I had my chest surgery (Double Subcutaneous Mastectomy) on Friday 11th July in Canberra Private Hospital.
On the Thursday I was given an admission time of 7:30am, so I was up and nervous bright an early on Friday! My sister and mum accompanied me to the Hospital, where I came across payment difficulties as my card had a $1000 limit - despite my perception that I had increased it.
Once the money was sorted, we were shown to my room to wait for a nurse/further instruction. Upon first sight of my room - I was ecstatic! My own room (no sharing) it was fairly big, (free) TV with all normal fee-to-air stations, large bathroom, the bed that moves electronically plus a massive window with a half decent view! I wasn't sure what I expected, I suppose I was thinking about Shoalhaven Hospital where my Dad had been not long ago sharing a room with four other people and paying $10 per day for TV.
So in my room we waited. And waited... and waited. Finally at about 11am a nurse came to check my blood pressure and have me fill out the last of (many) medical forms. Before leaving she handed over the fashionable white gown, red hair net and white pressure socks!
Then she left, and we waited some more. It begun to get cold, and my mum grabbed some blankets fresh from the Hospital's oven-like dryer, and I feel asleep under the immense cosy-ness.
Then I awoke to a nurse loudly entering, fussing over my paperwork and explaining she was ready to take me to theatre. My stomach erupted with butterflies and my Mum and sister hugged me goodbye.
As the nurse begun to wheel me out the door my mum stopped her for one last hug - then tried to assist in wheeling my bed away but to no avail - I think she had trouble coming to terms with the fact that YES I was finally getting my surgery after 2 years of trying to have it booked in!
I was taken down a floor in an elevator, then taken to a room where they closed a curtin around me and informed me someone would be with me shortly. Within 15 minutes a young nurse fiddled around my bed with paperwork and medications, chatting briefly and explaining she would assist in the surgery.
Not long after she took me into the Anaesthetist's office, where between the tiny crack in the doors in front of me, I could just make out surgeons and other assistants bustling around the bright room. I waited there for about 45 minutes, slowly working myself up with nerves and excitement, and looking at all the prep gear around me; needles, swabs, draws upon draws of medically label paraphernalia and warning memo's of all types.
Finally my surgeons stocky figure appeared at the door way and he entered in his white coat and blue cap, grinning calmly. He sat down in front of me, asking if I had changed my mind (not the first time.) Once again I smiled and replied 'no.' With that, he took a permanent marker to my chest, and measured out his incision spots, folding my breast tissue here, making a mark over there, prodding and probing all over the shop. When he finished I was an artists sketchbook, but even more so excited for the outcome ahead. Up he got, and as he headed back out the doors in front of me, he arched back in and said 'sweet dreams!'
Within a minute or two my Anaesthetist entered. She was an older woman, and sat beside me to explain her fees and talk briefly about her medical history/experience and what her role in my surgery was. As she begun putting a cannula into my hand, she said the liquid she was pumping inside me would calm me down and make me feel drowsy, then they would wheel me into the theatre room before injecting the Anesthetic that would put me under.
And from there on in, my memory gets foggy! I remember feeling tired almost instantly, for anyone who has even been stoned, I had the same heavy/lowered eye lids. I believe at the time I was functioning close to normal, but now that I am thinking back I barely remember much. The last thing I remember (before waking back up) is looking up to see two bright lights above me, and having nurses wheel some form of bed or platform beside me and explaining I needed to move myself onto it. Then boom! Thats the last thing I remember!
Upon waking up, I was so super thirsty (a given though, from fasting from food/water for 12 hours plus having the air tube down my throat during surgery.) I was in a near empty room, and beckoned the nurse over asking for water, who then held a cup up to my mouth for me to sip from. Then I put my oxygen mask back on, and fell straight back asleep.
Later on - i assume at least an hour later - another nurse wheeled me out of the recovery room and back to my hospital room where my sister and Mum were waiting anxiously. I was still very drowsy, but able to inform them I felt good, not much pain (if any) and after briefly chatting they left for a few hours while I slept.
After a few hours of dozing on and off, I awoke feeling a bit rested, and inspected myself.
The first thing I noticed was I had leg compressors on; similar to the type of contraption a Doctor or GP would measure your blood pressure with - only they were hooked up to a whirring machine making constant (low pitch) but annoying sounds.
Then I checked out my drains, they were hanging off my bed rails, and they were small plastic purple container type things, each with a measured bag hanging from the bottom of that. The drains were connected to my sides, and as I followed them up to my body, I realised I was wearing my surgical compression vest I had paid for a few days earlier at my surgeons office. Apparently they had dressed me in it while I was still out of it! Additionally the cannula in my hand was annoying and uncomfortable.
Later on in the evening my mum and sister visited again, nurses and doctors checked up on me regularly, giving me antibiotics, pain medications and checking my heart rate and all the vitals. Unfortunately for the larger part of the 48 hours following my surgery my heart rate was very high. My nurses said it was nothing to worry about however - this was my first time in hospital (besides being born) therefore first surgery, first time under anaesthesia and my body was probably responding in a bit of a panic.
When a nurse finally brought dinner in, I just could not find my appetite, despite my love of food and knowing I'd regret it later. Because it was fish, after 20 mins the nurse came back and said she'd have to take it from me. The only side dish I was allowed to keep was the lemon cheesecake. Which I devoured later on at about 1am. I barely slept that first night of post-op. I woke up nearly every hour on the hour. And when my body wasn't waking me up from discomfort, it was a nurse waking me up to check my heart rate and blood pressure, or other patients pressing the 'nurse assistant' button that sounded over the entire floor.
At about mid night (or was it 2am? I had no idea) the rostered nurses swapped over, and my new nurse was lovely. She was explaining how she did not have time for dinner, and I offered her some jelly beans my sister had left for me - then instantly we were friends. She kept coming to check my heart rate, and we chatted and joked throughout the early morning. Without her company and my lack of shut-eye, I probably would have died of boredom!
I stayed in Hospital for a total of two nights, and on the third day (Sunday) my Surgeon breifly visited me to inform me he was happy for me to be discharged, but that I would have to keep my drains in until Tuesday, and visit him at his practice to have them taken out.
