The day has dawned and we head to Peter Mac. Tea and toast before 7am, and admitted by 9am. I say good bye to Siobhan with her wonkily best brave face in place, and head upstairs to Day Procedure. Ubiquitous vinyl chairs and crap TV awaits you. Surprisingly after mastering the free wifi, and just about to settle into some browsing, I get called in to a cubicle for the following to be taken- blood pressure, temperature and name/D.o.B.confirmed yet again.
Do I know about what is going to happen to me today? I respond, an injection of radio-active stuff and then off to theatre. I say I have been told the needle hurts a little.
Not so simple says young Nurse Ratchett. She kindly points out to me that this "injection" isn't so much an injection but a procedure that takes about 45 minutes - after I metaphorically pick myself up off the floor and digest this soupçon of information, she is at pains (no pun intended), that it doesn't hurt so much, as burn - a lot!!! I bet you all can just feel the love in that room that I was emitting at this stage peoples. And then she tells me the injection isn't under the arm - it's in the nipple area!!!! "Don't shoot the messenger" is my first thought - actually I lie. My first thought was a four letter word.
Apparently this stuff ( called radioactive tracer) needs time to course it's way up your breast so that the sentinel node and/or lymph glands under your arm can light up like a cheap set of christmas lights made in China that blink on and off in a code that signals " here I am, here I am and I have those naughty little cancer cells right here with me!! " This in turn then serves as something akin to a Google Map to locate said nodes. Is it just me or do others find it not particularly reassuring that an experienced surgeon still needs a map to find stuff under a patient's arm????
But before we get to that fun stage, she provides me with a rather fetching outfit of a blue wrap around gown (which if I was a size 22, would have fitted perfectly). And to complete the ensemble, is a pair of baby blue paper booties (no heels peoples!) with a very becoming matching hat. Sort of a Gowns-on-the Gurney equivalent to Fashions on the Field.
They way I am dressed I could do a shift on the canning line at SPC.
So I am then walked around to nuclear medicine for quite a wait. Seems that Thursday is very popular with the radioactive crowd. Some time later am called through and meet a Nuclear Medicine Radiographer. Lovely girl. Explains what is about to happen and eloquently prepares me for the process on a recliner rocker in a small room. She kindly ( stupidly) offers her hand for me to hold. The Nuclear Medicine Radiologist comes in with the stuff. Surprisingly he isn't wearing a Homer Simpson outfit of a space suit with a Darth Vader-esque helmet nor carrying a "glow-in-the-dark" stick of radioactive poison. Rather its a rather underwhelming lead container and in it is, a relatively speaking, inoffensive needle with bright greeny-yellowy liquid.
He feels the lump and then directly above the lump, places a finger on my nipple. He begins to slowly (and I do mean painfully slowly) inject this stuff. At first I feel nothing. I must be super strong I think to myself.......and then it hits. If only I had been bitten by a spider before this radioactive injection, it could have then rationally explained my immediate vertical leap onto the ceiling from where I needed to be scraped. I repeated the same swear word in ascending volume over and over in order to have a goal instead of screaming out in pain. It was horrendous. It lasted for about 4 minutes which is the equivalent of a lifetime. I was drenched in sweat.
In order to promote the tax payer funded journey this poison was making in my breast to Sentinal Node Station, I was expected to massage said burning breast for about 8 minutes. Now for most of us, this is not an unpleasant undertaking (gay boy readers, this clearly doesn't apply to you) but god, what an ask. It was burning, it was hot and it was painful. After about 12 minutes the burning sensation stopped and it was tolerable. It's amazing how the feeling of pain can so quickly recede. The brain and our body is an amazing thing.
So next it was off to have more happy snaps of the trip this tracer was taking in my left boob. I was expecting a little scanner maybe on a trolley, but I walked into this "Arcticley" chilled
room and what met me there was a machine the size of the Starship Enterprise. It does a number of things. I had to lie on the skinny bed and be mechanically moved part way into the tunnel and the two screens positioned either side of my breast were used to take films, front and side on. You stay in place and the machine barrel turns - I felt like one of those blue dudes being transported in Avatar- little did I realise how true that would turn out to be!!!!
From there I was taken to theatre and laid on a gurney. I met my lovely Anaesthetic Nurse who prepped me for theatre. He generously placed on my legs (embarrasingly non-waxed and a tad furry) some fetching compression stockings which they provide for all their "breast ladies" and introduced me to my Anaesthetist and his offsides- both of whom looked about 18!!!! My anaesthetist ran me through everything and was so engaging it was a stand-out. My Visiting Fellow then arrived and after what may have been a bit longer than genuinely required grope of my breast- he autographed, yes autographed my left breast with his name and an arrow in green texta. Protocol apparently, the autographing, not the extended groping.
I am deemed ready to go so into theatre I roll. The surgeon is running a few minutes late so they give me a little something to make me drowsy. I talk to the nurses, the Fellow and the anaesthetist asks me whether I am getting drowsy. I say no. Now perhaps he wants to shut me up but I like to think that the surgeon was making her way into the theatre and he needed me under. Anyway don't recall a thing from here on in for the next 75 mins. I have two incisions the first is under the left boob and the second is under the arm - hope the hairy pitts arent detectable.
Next I know I am waking up in recovery. And I feel bloody tremendous. My recovery nurse asks me how I am. I say I have had the best sleep ever and that I am starving. She seems a tad surprised but says she will get me something to eat. I sit up and check out what's happening around me. Clearly not everyone has the good fortune responding to general anaesthetic that I do. Whilst munching on a ham and salad sanga and a much needed cup of tea, I observe my fellow theatre goers. Lots of moaning, vomiting and even some crying and swearing. Can't wait to get out of here. I don't think my sunny disposition is helpful in this instance!
I get wheeled back to Day Surgery after a bit. Get the run down for not showering for 24 hours otherwise the wounds will bleed, rest up - no house cleaning or vacuuming for 10 years (might be a slight exaggeration there) and come back next week to discuss treatment plan options with the BCCC meeting - see earlier blog in the archive listing at the left hand side of the page.
As we leave I feel quite perky, Siobhan is very happy and relieved to see me looking so well if a touch pale.
I feel abit disappointed though. I didn't take a "selfie" when I had had the radioactive tracer - a bit distracted by monumental pain perhaps but I missed the opportunity to show you what a True Blue Trooper I am (or at least was for a brief time). All I have now is this pic of the last vestiges of when I was a Smurf wannabe. Apols to all the gayboy readers out there for whom the sight of a female nipple may be less than palatable!!
I feel abit disappointed though. I didn't take a "selfie" when I had had the radioactive tracer - a bit distracted by monumental pain perhaps but I missed the opportunity to show you what a True Blue Trooper I am (or at least was for a brief time). All I have now is this pic of the last vestiges of when I was a Smurf wannabe. Apols to all the gayboy readers out there for whom the sight of a female nipple may be less than palatable!!
So I head home to the care of Siobhan and the team from the West Highland Nurses Agency !!! I am a very lucky patient indeed!
Thank you for all your words of support and kindness. It has been greatly appreciated. Next Wednesday I will have choices about what will happen from here.
Lotsa
Kelly x
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