This past week has been all about preparing for my big surgery. Between appointments, paperwork, and making sure I had my designated post-op snack lineup ready (priorities, people), things were getting real. First up was my nurse education visit, where a very nice nurse gave me the rundown of what to expect before and after surgery—basically, what to do, what not to do, and why running a marathon immediately post-op is frowned upon.
Then there was the Sentinel Node Injection. Sounds fancy, huh? This is where the radiology team injected radioactive dye into my breast (yes, actual radioactive dye—because clearly, I’m auditioning to be part of the Avengers). The dye travels to the lymph nodes so the surgeon can easily locate them during surgery. So, with my radioactive boob and a calendar full of instructions, I was officially ready.
Surgery Day: Showtime!
On the morning of February 28, my family and I made our way to Mayo Clinic. And can I just say—Mayo continues to impress me. I’ve never seen such an efficient operation. These people could probably run the DMV, the airport, and the cable company all at once and still be ahead of schedule. Hats off to them!
First stop that morning was an ultrasound where I was reunited with the doctor who did my original biopsy. You might remember me mentioning her before—the one with the voice as soothing as a meditation app? Naturally, I had to ask if she always speaks like that or if she has an alter ego who yells at traffic. Turns out, she’s just blessed with a permanently calm voice. Must be nice.
During this appointment, she placed a tiny “seed” next to the clip that marked my cancer site. This helps guide the surgeon to the exact spot to remove. And let me tell you, watching this happen was actually pretty cool… in a “science experiment happening inside my body” kind of way. After a quick mammogram to confirm the seed was in the right place, I was good to go.
Pre-Op Party Time
Once checked into pre-op, I was led to my little cubby—a cozy curtained area complete with a shared bathroom (luxury). After a brief strip-down and a cleansing wipe-down with warm cloths (nothing says “glamorous” like scrubbing your armpits at 9 a.m.), I hopped into bed. My nurse, Lu, warned me I’d be visited by four VIPs: the anesthesiologist, the IV nurse, the OR nurse, and the surgeon.
As Jason got to work on my IV, Lu started her questions. “Do you have anything removable on your body?” she asked. Naturally, I couldn’t resist telling her, “Well, my eyeball.” Poor Lu actually looked concerned until I admitted I was joking. She laughed and shared that she once did have a patient with a removable eye. So, note to self: sometimes the jokes are more real than you think.
Then, as Jason was lovingly shoving an IV into my wrist (seriously, why the wrist?!), Lu asked if anything hurt. “Um, yes. Right now. That,” I said, gesturing at Jason’s needlework.
Enter Dr. Sweet Talker
Next came the anesthesiologist. Y’all. This man could have a side gig reading bedtime stories. He was whispering sweet nothings in my ear, and honestly, I thought he was about to ask for my number. But no, his only goal was to put me out. And boy, did he deliver.
Before I knew it, I was sitting in a position like I was about to get an epidural while his team Sharpied mystery marks all over my back and arms. To this day, I have no idea why I woke up looking like a human doodle pad. But whatever they did worked because the next thing I knew, I was out cold.
As my brain started functioning again, the surgeon stopped by, and this was my big moment. See, in our previous encounters, I had been in full shock mode and barely spoke. But not today! I had practiced my post-surgery gratitude speech and greeted her with a big ol’ smile. I even complimented her on how pretty she looked and joked that she must have had a hot date—with me! We laughed, and she gave me this reassuring arm rub that confirmed I was truly in the best hands.
And… Scene.
When I woke up, I was back in my cubby, and everyone who had been bustling around was gone. In their place was a nurse offering me crackers and juice like I had just completed kindergarten nap time. Bless her.
Soon after, I was rolled out in what I can only describe as a Bentley of wheelchairs. This thing was smooth. The gentleman driver delivered me to my ride home, and just like that, surgery day was in the books.
Post-Op Life
Now, a few days later, I’m feeling surprisingly good. Only two lymph nodes were removed (which is a very good thing), and no cancer cells were found in them—double win! I’ve been managing pain with my meds, walking around to keep the blood flowing, and icing my incisions like a pro. The only real challenge has been getting off the couch without feeling like my underarm is trying to revolt, but I’ve solved that with some strategic pillow placement. Innovation at its finest.
For now, I’m taking it easy, counting down my one week of rest before starting the arm and chest exercises, they gave me. Can’t wait to add “awkward arm flapping” to my recovery resume.
Until next time, friends!
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