The Surgery

The time leading up to surgery was busy, as one expects.

There were vital signs to take, pre-op preps, a blood thinner injection for surgery, and the need to stay warm leading up to and during the operation.

The surgery was to be an hour and a half long procedure, getting me out of the OR just before noon.

Blissful Bair Hug Blankets

In the last year or so, the hospital started using new blankets to keep patients warm during their procedure to prevent infection. They are a feather light, disposable, and are heated by an electric vacuum pump that that fills blanket baffles full of 38° air.

Pure bliss! It’s was especially comforting when one is cold from not being able to eat since the night before, and colder yet in anticipation of surgery. My hands and feet just couldn’t warm up until the Bair Hug blanket arrived.

Having your entire body wrapped in this electric blanket that gently caresses you with warm air was delightful. That hospital experience alone was great! The blanket kept me warm during surgery and helped to minimize the risk of infection.

I wanted to take the machine and blanket home with me. It was that great! I was reminded again later that day of the “bliss of the blanket.” That heated blanket soothed me, surrounded me, and kept comfortable and warm so that I could sleep cozily and recover.

Radioactive Injections

Part of the pre-op procedure involved having to have an isotope injection in the areola so that my surgeon see if the cancer had spread to other areas, especially the lymph nodes.

Generally, patients are to get four to five of these injections prior to surgery without any anaesthetic. Ouch! It apparently stings and can be quite a painful procedure. It was something I dreaded going through, but knew it was necessary.

Prior to surgery, in my visit with the breast cancer nurse educator, she had mentioned that one of her patients had used Emla cream, a topical anesthetic for dermal anaesthesia prior to the injections.

It supposedly was completely safe to use and does not disrupt the anaesthetic. Her patient said using the cream was a breeze in freezing the area that would receive the injection. After the appointment, I immediately went to a drug store and bought the cream.

Arriving at the hospital that morning, I showed my day surgery nurse the cream and asked her to check with my surgeon on its usage. She warned me that the hospital hadn’t let patients use it with other breast cancer surgeries. As this was my surgery, and I wanted to have a say in my treatment, I gave her the cream and asked her to check with my surgeon to see if it could be used. She did.

I won. The surgeon confirmed it was safe to use and asked that it should be applied one hour before the operation.

When the time came for the injection, my surgeon autographed the surgery area with a felt pen to outline the procedure, and injected me with the radioactive needle. While other surgeons may use four to five needles to inject the lymph node area for surgery, I only needed on as my surgeon follows a different treatment regime. He injected me with the needle. I felt no pain. The cream did its job, beautifully. I was now the patient, and a teacher.

“You didn’t wince,” commented my surgeon. “From now on, I must tell my other patients about this cream. How did you hear about it? Where did you get it? Did you need a prescription?” Such are the merits of a patient pro-actively taking on some of their treatment care during their cancer journey and collaborating with their surgeon.

In spite of the schedule the surgeon had that day—he had three breast cancer operations scheduled—he still made one-on-one time with me. I was first. He made sure he kept in touch directly with me, choosing to roll me into the operating area himself after the injection, rather than having an attendant do so.

He was not too impressed with the wheels on the gurney. They kept veering to the right side, making negotiating the hallway and corners tricky. I compared it to using a shopping cart that needed to be fixed. We chuckled.

I was rolled into the operating room, and was transferred to the OR bed. I could hear music playing as the operating room nurses were readying the area for surgery. My surgeon likes rock music! I underwent anaesthesia and was out.

Serenity: Floating on Clouds of Prayers

As I waited for surgery, I felt calm. The anxiety of waiting for surgery for six weeks, then days, then hours, then minutes, was slowly coming to an end.

When I was rolled into the nuclear medicine area of the hospital, I had a few minutes to wait until my surgeon was available to inject me with the radioactive needle. A wave of peace came over me.

I was no longer scared. I was so calm that I could have fallen asleep. It felt like I was floating on clouds of prayers.

I know that countless prayers were offered for my family and me in the weeks that led up to the surgery. Hundreds of individual and congregational prayers were offered up from Combermere, Ancaster, Calgary, Halifax, and other near and far destinations. All welcomed, all helpful. I was at peace with what was to come and grateful for the prayers of so many.

Recovery

Late in the afternoon, after the surgeon has completed all of his operations, he came into recovery and gave us a report on how the operation went.

The surgery went very well. A simple mastectomy was all that was required. The cancer was localized only in the lump where it was found. There was no cancer in any of the lymph nodes, thus none had to be removed, and recovery would be so much easier. The best news ever!!!

Sandra 1, Cancer 0.

Of course, we still have to wait for more conclusive results from the biopsies that will be undertaken by a pathologist on the removed tissue.

My medical team will have a better indication of what the next treatments are in the next two weeks. In mid May, I have a surgery follow up appointment at which time I will be told by my surgeon about who my medical oncologist will be and the steps that will follow.