When I arrived at the hospital I was in search of laughter. Changing into my sexy hospital stockings I walked up and down doing a modelling type pose saying to myself this is the latest creation by The big E hospital. To me to beat this bastard I needed to laugh, not dwell, but none of the other patients were in a laughing mood. Finally my oncologist turns up to talk about what she wanted to do and to reassure me all would be fine..
My first stop off point was the ultra sound room to have one wire guided excisions fitted in each breast. I had a wire excision done in 2010 for my last lumpectomy on my right breast, so I was well prepared. To me having small breasts is a blessing when it comes to having these wires being fitted. Then the radiologist had to find the little 3mm area of cancer that was hidden 2cm into my armpit. This small lesion was between my LD recon and the top of my pectoral muscle. It was explained in detail by my oncologist who wanted to see it for herself. She so wanted to surgically remove it but to do so she could destroy blood vessels and nerves supplying the reconstructed breast.
Once all had been dissected and discussed between the radiologist and oncologist whilst I lay listening on quietly. I could honestly say this ride I was on will not be easy.
It was not long before I found myself laying on yet another theatre bed whilst people tried to find veins and rig me up the heart monitors etc. I have plenty fat juicy veins that never stay still, but the anaesthetist had come up against another dilemma both left and right breast were being operated on, so he wanted to fit a cannular into my foot. I instantly said but that’s near the bone and it will hurt, so expect some cussing. The anaesthetist tried to reassure me it would be fine, but I am not daft. Rat feet and needles minus pain does not happen. They decided after one attempt with me wincing and gritting my teeth with pain. The anaesthetist would fit that particular cannular once I had been put to sleep. It took two attempts to fit a cannular in the back of my hand, but I soon was in the land of nod...It took me quite some time to wake from the anaesthetic, but all went well considering. Once wheeled up onto the ward and do the usual eat and drink pass urine etc. I was released to go home at 6.30pm with a bag of pain killers and follow up appointment. With a goodnights sleep I am ready to go....
Waking up to my young daughter blast out Cheryl Cole and singing ‘We are, who we are, we are’ and knowing that she has a memory of meeting her in person makes me smile. To me that is the best bit of therapy I could of created. Every time I see a movie I can say well yep she met that person and we can talk about it, not the cancer. Yes I may lose my hair and I will feel I’m going to the pits of hell and back, but I also know it will not just be me affected by the visual side of having cancer.