Surgery Day
They say writing helps anxiety, so let's try it! Blog-style!
Things I've learned about breast cancer surgery today:
He blamed touchy brakes.
Two separate incisions were made: one for the tumor and tissue and one for the lymph nodes. Alas, the tumor was very close to the chest, waaaaaaay back in there. So, the wire insertion during mammography took 2 hours instead 1 hour and was a terrible ordeal for Mums. (The wire functions as a blueprint that guides the surgeon in getting the necessary surrounding tissues and stuff.) In the meantime, my brother showed up, so the whole (original) Opp clan was able to see her off.
We had a few hours to kill (again) and went to a Thai restaurant for lunch. After, Tyler had to get back to work for an important meeting. Dad and I continued our multi-hour waiting vigil.
The surgeon declared that the surgery went well, and we were told pathology results will come on Friday. Mom's original biopsy a month or whatever ago was so small that they were unable to get a read on hardly anything--we're actually still very much in the dark--but we should know more later.
So, more waiting ensued as we waited for Mums to join the conscious world. And, well, like I said. Post-op was a bitch. I won't go into details, but due to the location of the tumor, they had to dig in FAR. To boot, quite a bit of tissue was removed. And let's not forget the lymph nodes. So, the shot they gave her to knock her out to relieve the nausea didn't take, because the pain was off the charts, keeping her quite awake. A nurse pumped her up with more pain meds, which helped a little.
The drive home was loooooooooooooong and tense.
Long story short: Mums is in a lot of pain. More than expected, so we've got a long few days ahead of us. Pain management is the goal at the moment as she begins the road to healing.
Things I've learned about breast cancer surgery today:
- Sitting on your ass and waiting waiting waiting is surprisingly exhausting.
- A perky, genuinely kind barista in the hospital lobby cafe can almost bring you to tears.
- Jokes fall flat when your audience is looped on narcotics.
- Tricks you use to help your toddler dress are effective for helping someone dress post-op.
- Speaking of post-op: POST-OP IS A BITCH.
- A baby boppy pillow is an excellent pillow for easing painful pulling (I'm particularly proud of this last one).
He blamed touchy brakes.
Two separate incisions were made: one for the tumor and tissue and one for the lymph nodes. Alas, the tumor was very close to the chest, waaaaaaay back in there. So, the wire insertion during mammography took 2 hours instead 1 hour and was a terrible ordeal for Mums. (The wire functions as a blueprint that guides the surgeon in getting the necessary surrounding tissues and stuff.) In the meantime, my brother showed up, so the whole (original) Opp clan was able to see her off.
We had a few hours to kill (again) and went to a Thai restaurant for lunch. After, Tyler had to get back to work for an important meeting. Dad and I continued our multi-hour waiting vigil.
The surgeon declared that the surgery went well, and we were told pathology results will come on Friday. Mom's original biopsy a month or whatever ago was so small that they were unable to get a read on hardly anything--we're actually still very much in the dark--but we should know more later.
So, more waiting ensued as we waited for Mums to join the conscious world. And, well, like I said. Post-op was a bitch. I won't go into details, but due to the location of the tumor, they had to dig in FAR. To boot, quite a bit of tissue was removed. And let's not forget the lymph nodes. So, the shot they gave her to knock her out to relieve the nausea didn't take, because the pain was off the charts, keeping her quite awake. A nurse pumped her up with more pain meds, which helped a little.
The drive home was loooooooooooooong and tense.
Long story short: Mums is in a lot of pain. More than expected, so we've got a long few days ahead of us. Pain management is the goal at the moment as she begins the road to healing.
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