It’s been exactly two weeks since my surgery, so I think it’s time for an update. Since this is the first time that I’ve really sat at a computer for any length of time, who knows how long (or short) this might be. Off we go!

June 21 will forever be a date that’s seared in my mind. It’s the date that marked the end of a dark chapter in my life and blew open the doors to an entirely new and foreign adventure. It’s not a route that I would have chosen or one that I wish on anyone, but this is the hand that I was dealt. It’s time to play.

For those of you who are new here (or those that just want a quick recap), I was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer just after Thanksgiving 2022. Six months later, after what felt like an eternity with chemo, I elected to undergo a bilateral mastectomy with the hope that it would wipe out the remaining cancer that decided it’d like to hang out in my body a bit longer.

So in the wee hours of Wednesday, June 21, 2023, Brian and I got up, got ready and drove out to the Lawrence Surgery Center for a day that would change our lives forever.

The “wee hours,” Autumn? It couldn’t have been that early.

Au contraire, my friends. I was up at 4:30 in the a.m., a time that’s rarely been seen by these eyes unless I was coming home from a closing shift at the bar. It certainly isn’t a time that either of us are accustomed to starting our day, but that’s exactly what we did. Brian had coffee and a shower, I had a shower and no coffee (no fun), we did a few last minute things around the house and we were off by 6 so that we’d make our 6:15 check-in at the facility.

The very kind woman at reception started the day off right – she told me that her first name was Rachel and her daughter’s name was Autumn – and that calmed this nervous wreck enough that I don’t think my hands were shaking any longer. At least, it felt that way anyway. Brian and I sat for a few minutes before they called my name and whisked me back to pre-op, where I got a nifty cap, gown, compression stockings and some contraptions on my legs that gave me a nice massage every couple of minutes. I know they’re meant to keep blood clots from forming but really, that alone might have been worth admission. There was also a blower that pushed warm air into my fancy pants blanket to keep me warm throughout the procedure, which I learned is meant to help reduce the risk of infection.

Once I was all fancied up, Brian came back and sat with me as I got some pre-op meds and had the IV placed. My folks came back shortly afterward to hang out as well and got to witness the myriad of doctors and nurses coming in and out of my curtained room. I repeated my name and date of birth more times than I can count (which I don’t mind at all, as it’s meant to ensure that I am the person whose boobs they want to whack off), got drawn on by both of my surgeons and had some more fancy drugs to finish off the prep before it was time to go.

I remember being wheeled down the hallway and into the operating room and thinking that this might not be so bad. I was going to be totally asleep, after all. We got to the OR and what struck me is how bright and white the room was, not like what you see on Grey’s Anatomy with the muted blue and green walls. This was bright, like I’m not sure it could’ve been any brighter in there without sunglasses. (You have to remember that I was as high as a kite, so my memory may be a bit exaggerated.) I scooched my behind from my bed to the table, had a little conversation with a nurse and that’s where the memories stop, my friends.

The next thing I knew, I was in the recovery room chatting away with my family. How long I’d been chatting before my memory comes back is entirely unknown to me, so God knows what actually happened. I am told that someone asked what drugs I was on and when I heard that I was on fentanyl, I asked if it was the Narcan kind. Fortunately, I was told that it was not that kind and I was pleased the docs had it all under control.

After a few hours in recovery (and some amazing pudding), Brian brought me home to begin resting and the journey of getting to our new normal. We aren’t entirely there yet, but we’re headed in the right direction.