Amazon on the mend...

This is certainly not the first post written on Percocet, but it might be the first on so much! (That is what is called a disclaimer.) Many thanks for the outpouring of support before, during and after surgery. I am home now being looked after by Dr. Margaret and Nurse Butters. Desperately glad to be in my own space and pain-free. Steve is in Houston, so Devra and my Mom came with me to the city. Steve will take over from Margaret tomorrow. So long as I feel this good, I'll need very little looking after, but it's nice to have the company. I'm really glad we thought of (and could afford) staying in a hotel the night before surgery. Mom and Dad generously paid for this, as well as meals and chair massages the evening before...bliss! The "scheduling administrator" was supposed to call sometime after 2 with time of surgery the next day. At 6:30, I got a voicemail saying he had been "trying to reach me to give me a time." Do people really think they can get away with that in the age of cellphones? Had he been trying, I would have known. When I called back 10 minutes later, I had the strict impression that I was calling a low-paid contract worker at home and I think his brother or boyfriend answered. I was told he had stepped out and would call me back. I expressed my opinion on this brilliant system and was told there was nothing to do but wait until he got back. Forty minutes later, no call, so I called again and was finally told to show up at 5:45 a.m. Great news for us, but can you imagine if we were staying in Jersey that night? Once we got over that hurdle, I was pretty relaxed. Had a great night's sleep, showered with the disinfectant they gave me and we walked the few blocks to the hospital. They couldn't use my port, since I had forgotten to get it flushed, but the IV in my hand didn't hurt much (I have gotten tougher.). There was the inevitable paperwork, trading clothes for gowns, and I walked into the operating room. Last thing I knew, they said "good night, Colleen" and I woke up in recovery. There were people walking by and I remember calling out "hello, hello, I need some help here." I had a lot of pain in one spot under my arm and I think it took about 45 minutes to get it under control. No pump, it was all Dilaudin through the iv. It hurt, and seemed like forever. Then, suddenly, my Mom and Dev were there, I was handed a bucket in case the stretcher ride made me throw up (it didn't) and whee off to the 10th floor. I don't know how to make the hours after anesthesia sound anything but yuck. I am very lucky that I did not throw up, nor was I nauseous when I didn't eat, drink or move. But every tiny sip of water sent me into an agony of nausea that finally broke me down into tears. And I was very dizzy and felt generally miserable for a while. The only good thing I can say about it is it didn't last forever. When I finally managed to get down enough food to switch to oral Percocet, the nausea started to ebb, and I was suddenly up walking to the bathroom. It was like the sun coming out. Thanks to all who wished me a good nights sleep. LOL. First of all, some genius has invented a hospital bed that forces air through the mattress every few minutes to avoid bedsores, to the accompaniment of a buzzing noise. This wonderful feature is not separate from the others, so the only way to disable it is to turn the whole bed off. When I asked the nurse, she made it sound like that would create big problems. In the middle of the night, I decided I didn't care and tried to shut it down. But the plug appeared to be a complicated mechanism with a thermostat that I was afraid to mess with. (Turns out that wasn't the right plug after all, and who knows what I might have done? ) Second, there are compression cuffs they put on your legs and tell you to keep on any time you are in the bed. These are pretty cool and alternate squeezing your ankles and calves every few minutes. Not so great for sleeping, however. Turns out, I could have turned them off, too. So why did I not call the nurse in and ask for a bedtime tutorial? Well, all I can say is that the night nurse seemed very stressed when she introduced herself, telling me she had a critical patient and that she would do her best to fit in the teaching she was supposed to give me. Pretty ludicrous. I don't think I saw her again. Anyway, I felt pretty content when Devra and mom left around 9:00. I had an eyepatch from mom, my earplugs in and plenty of pain meds in my system. I dozed on and off with the bed moving under me, my legs being pumped, listening to my roommate snoring. People came in and out talking loudly and taking vital signs, etc. But I was serene and kept my expectations low. I think I managed to get in a few hours of what might be called sleep. Then, at 2 am, my roommate had her blood pressure taken. She told the aide she needed to use the commode. Her pressure was 198 over something and the nurse told her not to move and left to get the doctor. A number of minutes ticked by. Then I could hear her moaning and then getting up. Picturing a stroke in the works, I called out to her not to get up and that I was coming. The poor thing was in agony trying to hold it in, and there I was, holding my gown together in the back with one hand, in bare feet and pulling my IV pole with me. I pushed the call button and told them she needed help RIGHT NOW. They did arrive then and, since no one even acknowledged me, I went back to my bed and managed to knock a cup of water onto it while trying to get in. Awesome. The aide who came to help did not speak or look at me as I stood there in my gown, holding onto my IV pole. I think she does not find her job inspiring. Can't blame her, really. In short, nighttime at MSK was a parallel universe and I hope heartily that one night there will be my lifetime quota! Morning and getting discharged was the usual chaotic, delayed, hard-to-believe-these-folks-have-ever-done-this-before thing that hospitals everywhere seem to specialize in. But at least everyone was pleasant. I got my physical therapy lesson, instructions on emptying the cool-albeit-gross drains hanging from my left side, and a flu shot and we were free! So here I am, propped up in my bed, Butters on a pillow on the floor next to me, eating my mother's amazing mushroom soup with coconut and a sub. it's hard to believe I was in surgery yesterday morning. But this whole thing is still hard to believe. I look down to the flat spot where my left breast used to be and I just shake my head. It's wild. Well, you surf the waves they send you, that's all I can say. Love, Colleen