My mum arrives the day before my operation,
emergency food supplies in hand. She is thankfully keeping it together too -
this is better for me. I want to keep it together, retain some semblance of
control when my body is letting me down. I'm finding dark humour is
helpful. My husband and I have already drily discussed the silver lining of my
stress-induced weight loss and opportunity to choose the size of my new
breasts. I make a mental note to hide all foot pumps. I also wonder if I should
continue watching Breaking Bad on TV or will Walt's cancer be cured?
The day of my operation. I'm asked to
arrive early to visit the nuclear medicine department to enable the sentinel
lymph node to be targeted during the operation. There is some confusion over my
appointment and I use this as an excuse to focus on poor hospital admin as a
distraction. I then wait on my bed in my hospital room for the consultant. He
looks perky and relaxed - I feel sweaty. He draws on me with a pen whilst
regaling me with stories of surgery carried out on the wrong side. Mental note
to repeat 'right hand side' as often as I can as I go under the anaesthetic.
The operation is not until 4pm. My husband and I spend the afternoon watching
Scrubs on Sky TV - I wonder if this is sensible before an operation but find I
am strangely calm and it is a good distraction.
Finally the time
comes and I am wheeled down to the operating theatre - I kiss my husband
goodbye. The nurse sweetly offers to stay with me and we discuss schools in the
area whilst the anaesthetist prepares. I manage to remind them it's on the
right hand side once before I know nothing more until I wake up in the recovery
room.
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