So, surgery happened. It was rather anti-climatic, which is something to be thankful for. Of course I did get the pre-op appointment “talking-to” a few days before. This very bubbly blonde informed me nonchalantly “of course there are three risks with any surgery”. Of course! All I had to look out for were blood clots, permanent damage and death. Piece of cake! The surgery was quick and I woke up from my narcosis quite happily. After monitoring the baby – who put on a very healthy show – we headed home. The downside to getting sliced while knocked up is that pain killers are limited to ice and Advil. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if they hadn’t left a needle with an iv cord attached. Naturally, I took a picture so everyone could get a good visual of my bedmate that night:
So, going to bed with a needle in my chest did not lead to a great night sleep. It also felt like someone punched me in the collarbone from the port placement, which didn’t help much either. All in all, I avoided the three biggies of surgery dangers, but suffered from grumpiness when I awoke.
The next morning, my sweet and supportive husband came along to hold my hand while I had my first chemo session. We found a quiet corner, which wasn’t hard because most of the occupants were sleeping or knitting (yes, there is an age reference if you read in between the lines). I was thrilled with the lack of needle-poking into my new port as they quickly hooked me up to saline, adriamycin and cyclophosphamide.
We hung out and talked and took pictures and laughed about how awesome our date day was while our daughter was being babysat. He read to me and I ate and drank enough to fill three people. I wheeled my iv into the bathroom a few times even though it seemed to make other people uncomfortable. I think they assumed I couldn’t walk by myself while balancing a big belly, breast cancer AND a full bladder. After two uneventful hours, I was unhooked and let loose. I admit that I kept waiting for that “hollywood” chemo moment where I’d faint, vomit and have to be taken to the car in a wheelchair. Anyone else who expected this will be disappointed. I felt fine. I waited the customary two days for the anti-nausea medicine to wear off and still felt fine. I waited for the one week point, when my white blood cell count would start to go down and still felt fine. Granted, I was tired. I don’t know many women who are seven months pregnant with a 14 month old running around that wouldn’t be tired, cancer or not. So far, my mode is to take each day as it comes. Some are easier than others, but I still feel incredibly blessed to wake up each day to the most preciously precocious little girl and rockstar husband. And at the end of the day, I am still smiling, so I must be doing something right!