Tuesday, February 28, 2012
When my storm blew pink- my cancer story prt 5
When the day of my actual cancer surgery arrived we had a problem. My husband had to go see about a possible job. He fluctuated between going and not going, going to see about a job he badly needed or staying with me. I told him to go, my mother was there and I'd be fine. He didn't want to go and promised that he would be back as soon as possible, I watched as he finally left and mom stepped up. I just wanted this mess over with.
The youth minister from our church showed up and talked with me and mom. He prayed with us and then as I was moved from the room for a procedure that had to be done he followed along with mom and sat with her in a waiting area. As I was moved from place to place, mom and the minister followed along. Finally I was going into surgery. I watched as the walls passed by, I watched the ceiling, I saw the doors opening, and I saw no more.
I awoke to voices. It was over. My husband was there. He didn't get the job. He told me that they had got all of the cancer. A nurse asked how I felt and if I thought I could eat anything. I felt like I wanted to go home. I was given crackers and a glass of Ginger ale. After I had finished those I was helped to get dressed, my husband went for the car and I was wheeled down to the car. I was going home. Surgery was over, it was gone. A Lumpectomy- they went in, they got it out and they stitched me up. The surgeon also removed some lymph nodes to test for traces of the cancer. Needing to see if it had spread.
My husband drove carefully and slowly back to the house. He helped me from the vehicle to the bedroom. And that was the last I recalled for a while. I had to sleep off the rest of the anesthesia. My husband went and got the prescription for pain meds filled as our son stayed close by. Off and on during the day I would get up and move about. I called a couple of friends and family one time. The next time up I emailed a few, the next I managed to post on the social network of the day. Brief moments of clarity during a day of foggy brain and upset stomach. I thought, I believed, that the worst was over. I had no idea that 'worst' comes in stages.