Going In

When you're going to stay in the hospital overnight for surgery, be sure to plan what to wear. The clothes you wear into the hospital are most likely the clothes you're going to wear out of the hospital. I knew that after my mastectomy I would have difficulty putting on pants, and I wouldn't be able to pull a shirt over my head. I got dressed in stretchy sweatpants, a button-up shirt , a zip-up hoodie, and slip on shoes. These ended up being the perfect clothes to wear after the surgery. I had even color coordinated with blacks and maroons. It was important to me that I looked a little put together on the outside because I was panicking on the inside.

I packed a small hospital bag that my husband would watch over while I was in surgery. It included my wallet with my ID and insurance card. I had also packed a hairbrush, toothbrush, and an extra set of clothes but I hadn't ended up needing them. Before I left work on medical leave, I had been gifted a mastectomy pillow, and I put it in the car because I knew the ride home would be uncomfortable. The pillow would help support my chest and decrease pressure from my seat belt. I have never appreciated pillows as much as I do now. Pillows of all shapes and sizes were useful in my recovery. Stock up now, you never know when you'll need them.

Within the week of the surgery, I had received a phone call with pre-surgical instructions. The instructions included showering with the chlorhexidine beforehand, and wear no jewelry, no perfumes, no makeup, no nail polish, on and on and on. As per their recommendations, I hadn't eaten anything since 10 p.m. the night before. (Never go into surgery with food in your stomach! If the food comes up when you are under anesthesia and you breathe it in, you can get terrible pneumonia.) I thought I would be hungry while awaiting surgery, but I was too nervous to be hungry. Never thought that could happen to me. I love to eat.

When I checked in at the front desk, my husband was handed a pager, like the ones you get at restaurants when you're waiting for a table to be ready. Disappointingly, it wasn't for food. It would buzz when it was okay for him to come back and see me before the surgery, whenever there was an update while I was in surgery, and when I was waking up. He waited in the lobby with the pager all day, waiting for updates. He told me that he had spoken with several nurses and my surgeon. It is a great and thoughtful service to have, otherwise his 5 hours of waiting might have driven him a little crazy.

When I get nervous, I have to pee, so I went to the bathroom in the lobby as soon as we got there to the hospital. Ten minutes later, a nurse walked me back to my pre-surgery room and tells me that I need to provide a pee sample before the surgery. I never asked what it was for, but I started to freak out a little because I had just gone. I'm a bit of a perfectionist so I felt I would let the nurse down by not giving her enough pee. The nurse comforted me by saying they didn't need much. If only I had been better prepared, or told about needing urine when I checked in! I vowed to myself that for any future surgeries, I would hold it until I was sure the nurse didn't need a pee sample.

I was then escorted to a small room where I would get ready before the surgery. I had to answer a lot of questions about my medical history, most of which I had already answered in many of my previous doctors appointments and the pre-surgical phone call. A nurse placed the hospital band on my wrist and gave me a plastic bag to put all of my clothes in. As directed, I had worn no jewelry, no makeup, and not put on deodorant that morning. I have never felt more naked than I did those ugly blue robes, pants, an extra large hospital socks. It sounds dramatic, but I felt stripped down, just another hospital patient and not myself.

My husband was finally allowed back with me after about half an hour or so. That was when the parade of doctors came in. Every time a new person came into my room, I was asked for my name and my birth date. So many times. My general surgeon who would be doing the mastectomy visited. She confirmed my surgery and wrote 'yes' above my left breast, the side she would be taking lymph nodes from. The resident who would be working with my plastic surgeon to start the reconstruction visited. He introduced himself. He would eventually write 'NO BRA' above my breasts so no one would put anything over the surgery site while I was in the hospital. Between the words and incision lines, my chest started to look like abstract art. The anesthesiologists visited on a few times. I repeated my name and birth date each time, many times, also confirming the surgery I needed. It became very emotional, having to face why I was there with every new person.

I told anyone who would listen that opioid medications made me vomit, I even listed it as an allergy. I had only ever had two types of opioids in my life, one for when I had my wisdom teeth removed and one for cough. Two different opioids, but both caused vomiting within twenty minutes of taking them. Every hospital employee agreed that the last thing I wanted to do after waking up from such a large surgery on my chest would be vomiting. Sometime later, a nurse placed an anti-nausea patch on the skin below my ear since opioids would need to be used for anesthesia. It worked perfectly, and I kept it on for a couple of days after the surgery to make sure there wouldn't be any lingering effects from the medication.

Another nurse came in and placed an IV catheter in my right hand. The surgery was getting closer and closer and it was becoming more and more overwhelming. By the time the last set of doctors were ready to come in, I was crying. I think I showed remarkable restraint considering that I felt ready to fall apart. I was there to do something I didn't want to do, to undergo a surgery that I had little to no choice about. Yes, I could have decided against having the surgery, I just would have had to live with cancer instead. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

As they rolled me out of my room towards the surgery suite, I was still sniffling. I apologized to anesthesiologists for crying, but they seemed very understanding. I was so scared to be going into this, and going into it alone. I remember trying not to hyperventilate as they placed me onto a table. I asked a nurse if I would be awake when they placed a urinary catheter, because I'm very sensitive about my private parts. She assured me that it would be placed after I was under anesthesia and taken out before I had woken up. A small comfort. It is a small detail, but that was the last thing I remember before the surgery. I would wake up 5-6 hours later with my breasts gone.