Nodes, French Knickers & Fentanyl
19 July 2022
Wake at 4:50am. Not unusual these days. Got a lot on my mind. I woke after having a dream about Michelle’s baby shower (is there something we need to know ML?!) Wonder how my sister’s guinea pigs are going. I'm intrigued they have flesh similar to that of a chicken. Not that my sister and Rob are planning on eating them any time soon but if the zombie apocalypse comes, at least they have options.
I woke early because I’m stressed. Not upset, just stressed. Plus I need to fast from 7am onwards – nil by mouth incl. water. Not so fussed on the food front (let’s face it, I’ve got ‘reserves’) but I’m dying for a coffee. I tiptoe around the kitchen (trying not to wake Sam) – boiling the kettle, heating milk – basically not tiptoeing at all. I lap up my first and final coffee for the day then drink lots of water. One of the absolute worst experiences of my life was being in recovery after an emergency c-section and being horrifically thirsty. To the point where I thought I would go mad. I had the DTs coming down from the morphine which was bad enough – shaking uncontrollably but the thirst was way way worse than that. When they say you can die of thirst, it must be an absolutely horrible way to die. I’d definitely do a Bear Grylls if I had to.
Surgery Admissions, Calvary Public Hospital, Bruce is by no means salubrious. A small room with 2 - 3 other folk, some sitting in their surgery gowns. A TV blares out Channel 7 News, shudder. The nurse conducts intake interview which is extensive – I have my own hard-backed folder complete with coloured dividers. Name and DOB. Over and over. Sign here, sign there (what I am signing??) I did not think in 2022 things would still be so paper-based and laborious. I get my concert souvenir wrist band.
Interview over, stash my overnight bag and head over to the private wing of the hospital to get my scan. Obviously I haven’t been listening properly because I thought it was simply a pre-op ultra-sound to confirm location of tumour. Wrong. Rather it is a lymphoscintigraph which is used to identify or ‘map’ the sentinel lymph nodes (5 - 6 of which will be removed for biopsy). I have 2 doses of radioactive tracer (a blue dye) injected into the areola of my left breast. It hurts. A lot. No local anaesthetic. I’m then backed into the machine, arm propped up above my head. And wait. The dye travels from the cancer site to the sentinel node, along the same lymphatic channels that cancer cells can travel. Apparently this can take anywhere from 10 minutes to an hour +. Thankfully some bits of my body are still working ok and the dye moves through within 10 - 15 minutes. They take a few Instagram-able shots then get a sharpie (literally!) and put an x-marks-the-spot for removal of the nodes. The pain lingers and reminds me of the shit day ahead.
I return to the (somewhat povo) Public Hospital across the road. Public vs Private? There is definitely a difference in terms of facilities, comfort, decor etc. but the care is the same – the staff are kind and professional. Nurses are just beautiful people.
Back to The Lounge. The lovely Susan takes me to get changed. Everything off. I’m provided a pair of French lace knickers and some blue booties, an open-back gown and a one-size-fits-all bathrobe. I try the underwear on one way, then the other – wondering whether there is a front and a back. Appears not. Oh dear. Back to The Lounge. I set my mind to some writing. An hour later the nurse calls me back to put on compression stockings and I get another concert souvenir band on my ankle – a bit like dog-tags …
Name
DOB
The nurse gives me 2 Panadol tablets. I’m seriously hoping that isn’t the only pain relief I’ll be given. She reassures me I will be provided much stronger pain meds during surgery. She looks at the clock and says it will likely be 2 - 2:15 before the actual surgery starts, I will go in about 30 minutes before that. Pre-op, surgery and recovery all up will be about 3.5 hours. I’m hanging out for that first sandwich.
It’s only 12:15. Best get comfortable.
Lovely Susan from The Lounge walks me through to peri-op at 1:55pm where the equally lovely, buxom Rosemary takes over. Rosemary bundles me up in warm blankets, completes more paperwork.
Name
DOB
Wheeled through by expert orderly (aka a 'wardie') to pre-op room with an exceptionally bad paint job. I have a long time to consider this. There are two tones of cream - one on one wall, a different shade on the other three. Ran out of paint? The doors are pine-green. It just reads, effort: nil.
The lovely anaesthetist, Dr E assures me I won't remember my time in pre-op. I take that as a challenge. She attempts to put a cannular in. Fail. A second attempt. No luck. Call in Mel, the Senior Anaesthetist to give it a crack. Mel manages to score a vein using two strategically placed torniquets, gentle coercion and some soft verbal encouragement.
Name
DOB
I get some odd compression bands strapped around my legs. They have plastic tubes coming out of them and look super sexy over the top of my compression stockings. I'm told it is called an intermittent pneumatic compression device which pumps air through the cuffs to move/massage the legs during surgery to help prevent blood clots. Nurse Madeline likens it to a spa treatment. Except I won't be awake to enjoy it.
And then, they disappear.
An hour goes by. Ho hum. My Surgeon, Dr Majeed pops his head in for all of 30 seconds. He has very hairy arms.
I hear someone call the name “Janice". They repeat it loudly. "Janice, time to wake up, open your eyes". Seems Janice is in a very deep sleep and not keen on waking up. No less than 50 Janice's later, I am seriously wanting to go in and wake Janice up myself. I'm hoping I won’t be so hard to wake. Finally Dr E returns and loads me up with some fentanyl. It kicks in within about 20 seconds. Feel super-spinny and relaxed. I start to talk shit and ask Dr E whether you dream under anesthetic ....
My mind goes to strange places. I look at the grills in the ceiling and wonder if you really could crawl up and escape through there. Like in the Die Hard/action-type movies. I think about cat containment areas and why the English language has three different types of spelling for way, weigh, whey. Dr E gives me some more fentanyl.
3:30pm I get wheeled through the next set of doors to Janice's room where the surgical team are waiting.
Name
DOB
Two nurses sit in the corner counting instruments. I am reassured by that. Two other nurses are sitting on what appears to be, their phones. I have Dr E, her boss Mel and my nurse anaesthetist fussing around. The team asks whether I would like Mel to sing me to sleep. Apparently she has quite a voice. Yes please. The team agree on a song from Frozen. They're right, Mel has the most amazing singing voice! The song rings out through the theatre – it is fun, I smile then drift away.
