Ding! Ding! Round 2. Peter Mac v Minogue Surgical Unit Ward 3

Well here I am again Thursday  2 May, this time for a total excavation of the auxilla and a re opening of the wide excision of left breast. In lay speak that means that they are taking out all the lymph nodes in the left arm pit and re-opening the left breast to scrape more tissue from the margins, which is the area surrounding where the tumour was. 

I have to confess that my super hero special strength, that of lightening recovery rate from general anaesthesia, deserted me this time. Normally referred to as GARL Girl (general anaesthetic lightening recovery girl) I felt more Gargoyle than Garlgirl!! Nicknames totally self appointed by the way. 

It's around 4am post surgery of late yesterday afternoon and I have had a shite time of it for the last 12 hours.  My day started beautifully. I headed to Peter Mac via public transport - and yes Lee, there are times when PT can be a joyous occasion! It was a superb Melbourne autumnal day. We drove to Clifton Hill, caught a train in 5 minutes to Jolimont, arrived in 8 minutes, and then Siobhan and I walked through the gardens from Wellington Road to Landsdowne street to Peter Mac. It's terribly un-Melbournian of me that I do not know these exquisite gardens correct name!

So there I am all checked in and frocked up waiting to go into theatre at 11.30. Siobhan has returned to work and will bring my food rescue package abit later. (clearly have got the priorities sorted people!) Mike has purple penned and initialed my left breast and then folks I wait for four and a half hours! It does not bode well for me that I wait as all these other late comers jump the queue and get 'done' before me. 

A lovely young girl is to be operated on and I learn that even in this ready state for a procedure involving anaesthetic,  a head covering is still required for her as a Muslim and one is fashioned to wear during the operation. What is terrific about one's place in this public system process is the people, the cultural issues and the education you receive from it. 

So there I am many hours later and last on the list for my surgeon for the day and I am wheeled in to a nice warm theatre. The waiting room has been freezing. My surgeon and I had had a per-op chat about my concerns that my scars appeared to be keloid already (check word reference) - that is hard and raised. She said she would make sure that they were done again to avoid this and thanked me for raising the issue with her. You gotta love a surgeon who is responsive to your concerns!! Quite the miracle generally speaking, but she is simply lovely (and skilled of course) but her demeanour makes it all the more positive an experience. I think that it is in no small part because she is a female. Now all you blokes, don't pooh pooh this. I think that high achieving women tend to be less hierarchical and less inclined to adopt the stereotypical mannerisms that often go along with specialist roles - The recently departed Baroness Thatcher notwithstanding! 

Next I know, I am waking up in recovery some few hours later. On first blush I feel good, start chatting to the recovery staff and feel a tad peckish. Ticks for me. Then they bring me a cup of tea and a salad sandwich and whilst I am grateful for the tea, the food makes me want to puke. Can't do it. This is the beginning of a stint of nauseousness that goes on for about 12 hours with significant peaks and troughs. Hate feeling queasy. It's exhausting. All your energy goes into distracting yourself from chucking up. 

My Ward 3 Nurse arrives to kidnap me and hold me prisoner in a room with three other patients. It's a full house across the Mac today so no special privileges for anyone. We are about to hear and become strangely accustomed to each other's bodily noises - both audibly and nasally detectable!!! Fortunately, we are all too trashed to care. 

Poor Siobhan gets to arrive finally,  having had to kill extra hours waiting in the city until I was back from theatre. I am off my head. Emotionally very vulnerable , very teary and feel all round crappy. No pain though- not one iota. Just an emotional mess in a dress (a very ugly dress - at that). Siobhan has brought me a tempting dinner of chicken satay and rice from a city restaurant but I cannot even look at it so in the fridge it goes. This is my relationship with food for the remainder of my stay. 

Siobhan heads home to feed the West Highland Nursing Agency team so that they are fighting fit to man the bed upon my discharge tomorrow. Can't have them doing a Dandenong and threatening strike action if their demands are not met. Conceding on all points of negotiation is my strategy to ensure a happy nursing team!!

The evening ploughs on through bad telly, some phone calls and emails to dear friends and I am totally exhausted but am in the extremely unusual mindset of fighting sleep. Anyone who knows me, knows that I am the queen of the Nanna nap and will gladly retire to sleep at the earliest opportunity - even when entertaining people at home. So this is weird. 

When finally I do decide to sleep at sound 11pm, I quickly arrive at the realisation that it was a total waste of time. Each time I fall asleep I am woken up by a violent wave of nausea. I have the drainage drip in place on my left side and a line in with fluids into my right hand to which they periodically add anti nausea stuff for some short term relief. I am also hooked up to oxygen through with one of those plasticky hose things. Given my somewhat amply designed honker, I am somewhat surprised that it keeps slipping out all the time. 

The next few hours are shitty. It's dark, my throat is sore from the tube down it during surgery (and no, not from snoring!!) I am having hot flashes very 15 minutes so am sweaty and grumpy and I feel like chucking regularly and I am too tired to read, play word games, browse the net or anything. The only thing not giving me grief is the actual surgery that I had. The bag is draining well, the surgical sites are not giving me any pain at all and from that perspective it's fantastic.  My fellow patients are periodically in some discomfort so there is pockets of activity and noise when I do start to drift off. Did I say how it sucks being a woman???  I am awake for a period of time each and every hour through the night. 

My night duty nurse is a delight and ever vigilant, ever patient and she kindly brings me tea and crackers. I am not normally this sooky so that in itself is hard to take but the combination of things is knocking me around and the effects even more amplified in the loud quietness of night.

It's now nearly 6am so things should start happening here so. Siobhan will be in around mid morning to collect as I am hopeful of a discharge then. Home to my lovely house and Siobhan's unstinting care and attention. 

I leave you now, knowing that in the coming days I will be facing an enormous battle.A battle that will call on all my strength, my mental toughness and sheer rat cunning. But I know I will prevail folks. I will secure, maintain and defend my space in my bed against those nursing terriers!!!!

Game on Folks

Kellyxx