Back home and almost back to normal

It's funny how you get used to absolute strangers examining, mashing, and stabbing your personal parts. In this kind of situation, it becomes no more personal than your elbow. But I must admit that it's a little strange to be introduced to someone and exchange the usual pleasantries while you're hunched over with your boob clamped into the mammogram machine: "Hello, nice to meet you, Dr. N." "Hey, we have almost exactly the same glasses!" "Wow, yeah, ha ha." "So, where do you go to school?"

Surgery went more or less as planned. But as it turns out, the mass was not where they expected it to be. It's a bit hard to explain, but basically, they have to match up a spot on the side view with a spot on the overhead view. If you can see something in only one view, then it's just an area of increased density; if you can see it in both views, then it's a mass.

Before surgery, the radiologist uses an on-the-spot mammogram to insert a needle where the mass is; a wire is then inserted through the needle, and the needle is removed. (Yes, they do use lidocaine for this, and the needle jab isn't really worse than a needle jab elsewhere -- whew!!) A little bit of blue dye is also injected, so the surgeon knows exactly where to go, instead of slicing around aimlessly.

So when the radiologist had the needle and wire in place, he took additional images to confirm that they were in the right place. But -- he couldn't see anything there. After another look at the films, he guessed that the side view spot had been matched with the wrong top view spot. "Hmmm, I don't really think this is an area of great concern -- I probably would have recommended a follow-up mammogram in six months. But we've come this far..." So we had to do the whole injection/ needle/ wire/ dye routine on the other side.

I remembered seeing the lights in surgery, and Dr. Lim came in and squeezed my toes in greeting. Next thing I knew, I was in recovery. I couldn't believe it was already over! I was babbling quite a bit, but I'm sure they're used to that sort of thing. Later, I dimly recalled that just before I went under, the anesthesiologist was feeding me some positive suggestions: "When you wake up, you'll feel just fine, and you'll heal very quickly." Or something like that.

I was really amazed at how good I felt afterwards -- just perfectly normal (although one caller later reported that she could tell that I was impaired in some way). But in the morning, I felt like I had the Worst Hangover in the Universe. The most spectacular throbbing headache, along with nausea and the dry heaves. I slept it off and was finally able to get some crackers and ginger ale down by noon.

I wasn't sure if the nausea was an after-effect of the surgery, or the result of the oxycodone I was taking for pain relief, so I was reluctant to take any more pills. Actually, I didn't really need them the day after anyway, which is pretty amazing to me. I felt like maybe I had injured a muscle doing pushups (yeah, right), but I didn't feel any stabbing pains or anything.

Monday afternoon we'll get the results from pathology. I can't say that I'm not at all worried, but I sure am a lot less worried now. The biggest annoyances right now are that I can't take a shower or bath until Monday (ewww), and worst of all, I've been instructed to wear a bra for an entire week, day and night! What is this, the time of Charlemagne? Answer me! Answer me now!

Here's a quick snapshot of the surgical removal of the mass: