I am now an in-hospital cancer patient, waiting in a bed in day surgery for at least 4 hours until I go into the operating theatre. It is still an out-of-body experience.
I got out of bed to start my day at 6a and checked on the kids. Remie was still asleep but I hear noises from Alex's room. He was sitting up reading. I told him it was a bit early and convinced him to lay down for a cuddle. What a wonderful thing to do. I jumped in the shower then climbed back into bed with everyone for a family cuddle. Fantastic send off.
Chris picked me up at 7.15a. She has the Breast Care pack that was apparently delivered this morning. I opened it and bras and fake boobies went everywhere. Oops. We had a record run to North Sydney and even had time to stop at a cute cafe for a coffee and fruit salad. I so appreciated the effort she made and her wonderful company. It was another tick for the great start to the day.
We then made our way to Nuclear Medicine at the hospital for my 8.30a appointment. They whisked me straight in, had me take my top off and lay on the machine bed. I was then given 4 little shots around my nipple and moved into the machine, called a "Detector 2" (somewhat like an MRI machine but nowhere near as confining), for a few pictures. Not too bad. I rejoined Chris, who was being given strict instructions from the doctor to get me back at 10a. Up to the level 2 Day Surgery we toddled, where my admissions paperwork was done. Chris and I waited until I was actually called in to do more paperwork, get labelled and have my blood pressure taken. We left the admitting nurse to race back to Nuclear Medicine and bumped into Nick at the lift. Back to the bowels of the building we sped. I had more pictures taken with two different machines. The doctor put coordinates on my left breast with marker to indicate where the sentinel lymph node is. Apparently it is all text book.
Chris said goodbye and Nick and I returned to day surgery where I was shown to my bed, gowned up, given a blood-thinning injection and dressed in TED socks. Claire, one of the lovely breast care nurses, paid us a visit. Her overall supportiveness and reassuring comments diffused some of my anxiety. I will get through this step just fine.
It is noon exactly and there nothing to do now but wait. I know the start gun will go off soon and, at this very moment, I feel ok about getting through thebfirst leg. I might feel differently tomorrow. Or I might not. Time worrying or thinking about it is wasted. Off to hanging out with Nick and then the trashy mags interspersed with Fast Company and The Economist when he has to leave. More later once I get to the first buoy. Love to all. Xx
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