Sign Here, Initial There

Just got home from visiting both surgeons' offices and signing too many forms to count. Plus I had my pre-admission bloodwork and EKG. If both of those results are as they should be, I guess I'm cleared for surgery.

We didn't see the plastic surgeon himself today, just his office manager who handles all the forms and gave me my pre- (special soap) and post-operative prescriptions. Valium to control muscle spasms to aid in healing, an antibiotic to ward off infection, a heavy-duty painkiller "just in case," and something for nausea following anesthesia (also, "just in case".) I asked her how it was coming with the insurance company, and she said "they're" working on it. (Who is "they?" I don't know.)

We did, however, meet with the breast surgeon personally, and she was all about making sure we knew what was going to happen. She even drew us one of her classic diagrams, some of which I save the way Sardi's collects caricatures of famous people on their walls - except these are all sketches of breasts and procedures to be done to them. (On the other hand, I've never come off looking good in caricatures, so maybe this is better.) She told me that maybe 3 1/2 hours for the surgery - not too bad, right?

The tricky timing bit is that Dr. D'Amico wants me at his office that morning to draw his reconstruction guidelines, but I'm supposed to be at the hospital at 7 a.m., and he doesn't want to do this part at 6:30, and he doesn't want to come to the hospital to do it. So Dr. McIntosh said I don't have to be at the hospital until 7:30, and Dr. D'Amico is expecting me at 7:10. Either way, it's early, but it's okay because I figure the earlier we get all this stuff over with, the better the chance my surgery could start on time, and we can get this thing over with. That would be loverly.

She gave me a prescription for a numbing cream so that I can slather it all over where I think the IV will be - historically they have a tough time getting the IV in (if the nurse/phlebotomy person is not so good at it, it hurts while it's being inserted) and so it usually ends up on the back of my hand, which hurts going in AND anytime it moves AND creates a huge bruise which lasts for a couple of weeks.

In addition, I try to put the cream in the general area where the injections will go for the sentinel node biopsy. About an hour before the surgery the radiology department injects a radioactive substance in four spots that (I think) act as a tracer for the surgeon to find which node (and hopefully it will be only one) to take out to send up to the lab right away. This also means that once I get checked in and change and have my IV put in, they have to take me over to the other building (thankfully, connected to the main building) for the injections, and then back to the surgery area.

So I travel in a wheelchair in my hospital gown and little hospital-issued socks (not warm at all,) with Rod, all my stuff, all his stuff, a blanket to cover my legs, the IV hanging, and an orderly pushing me along. Having gone through this part back in 2006, I can look back and think it was kind of funny. But, I wish everything could happen in the same spot. This time around, I'm going to ask to wear my own robe and slippers at least! (If they're piloting me around the hospital, through the lobby and all the hallways, they can't really argue that my robe isn't sterile, right?)

I had left my nails with polish on so that I could show both doctors what I was talking about - and got official, in-person permission to have "nice" nails for the big event. Why this is so incredibly important to me, I'm not sure, but I think it has something to do with control, not how pretty I want to look in the hospital. As with the shampoo as opposed to the antibacterial soap, it's about what I can do MY way, in the face of all of the "have to" things that make the surgery more real.

Meanwhile, a few nights ago I dreamed that I was having my leg amputated, and even though I remember being upset about it, I did not wake up shaking with my heart racing. Does this mean I'm growing to accept my own decision to have body parts "amputated?" I hope so. With all the doctors and nurses trying to make sure I have no questions, so far no one has offered some kind of loss counseling.

On the more pleasant side of things, last Saturday night all of us went to Dave and Buster's to play, and had dinner at a place called Fire and Ice, which was new to us, but a really neat and pretty tasty experience, and not as expensive as I had expected.

While we were at the mall, Rod suggested I "check" at the Apple store to see if they had the iPads in stock there. As it turns out, they had the exact one I had ordered (which was coming, in theory, very close to the end of the month.) He further suggested I find out if I could cancel the order, and just get one then and there. Yes, and yes - and it's VERY cool:) Rod even gave me my birthday present of a year's 3G service right then and there, over two weeks before my birthday! Now, there's a great guy - but you knew that already.

This morning Dr. McIntosh's nurse Pat asked me how I was doing and I started to tear up a bit, but I said that eventually I was going to be fine, right? And she said "right." To loosely quote a friend of a friend, I thought I was used to the idea that not everything I walk on will be smooth, but some days I feel like this road is a long and bumpy one.