Sylvia's Journal

Today the small clump of cancerous cells was removed from my left breast along with two sentinel nodes from my armpit. I feel a little lighter now. I will not know right away what the pathologist has to say about the tissue that was removed (“staffing challenges”) and keep my fingers crossed that no cancer cells escaped the lump and that the discovery was just-in-time.
Compared to some of the other surgical procedures I have undergone over the years (shoulders, knees, ankle) this was a piece of cake (in Dutch we call this ‘een fluitje van een cent’ meaning: a whistle of 1 cent). Most of the time I was waiting for someone to show up and do their thing. The surgery itself took less time than the 2 hours I had been told.

After I changed into my johnny Isabella and Axel were allowed into my pre-op bay and Isabella laid her trained Reiki hands on various parts of my body. I could feel her energy enter my body. I was told I needed to go the ‘gamma,’ which meant going to the department of nuclear medicine for an injection. I had to wait a while for a transporter (a bed driver) who eventually showed up in full scrub (even though we got to mix with street people in the elevator) and wheeled me all through the hospital, zigzagging from one corridor to another, to the department of nuclear medicine. This place seemed as far away from the surgical suites as possible. Luckily the signage was good and we did not get lost. The purpose of this side trip was to have a radioactive tracer injected to guide the surgeon to my sentinel lymph nodes. A friendly young man, with excellent bedside manners, parked me in a room full of humming machines and a computer screen with a frantic screen saver. He then excused himself to go find the doctor who would give the injection. He called the search ‘making a loop.’ After awhile he came back with the message that he had not succeeded in finding the very busy doctor and would make another loop. I don’t know how many loops he had to make but am sure he made his 10,000 steps. Eventually the doctor showed up, numbed the skin and used a baby needle to inject the tracer. It took less than a minute. The doctor rushed off to his next patient. My friendly handler said goodbye (“nice working with you”) and wheeled me back into the corridor for another wait for my patient transporter – it is an apt name: waiting patiently to be transported – who would take me back to my pre-op bay. We zigzagged back and then there was more waiting for the surgeon and anesthesiologist to ask me questions and answer mine and those of Axel and Isabella. More Reiki until it was time to go to the operating theatre with is blinding white lights and humming machines and hard narrow table. And then there was a period of nothingness, which seemed to last no more than a few breaths. I heard my name and was told by another friendly nurse that I was in the PACU (Post Anesthesia Care Unit) and the surgery was done. The world slowly came back into focus. Then there was more waiting until I was fully awake and was moved to another area with chairs, food and drink. I was given a choice of (non alcoholic) drinks, cookies, crackers or ice cream. I choose the latter. Axel and Isabella joined me and she continued Reiki. Then there was more waiting for the very busy surgeon to complete her post-op instructions (which consisted mostly of boiler plate actions that did not apply to my situation).

Six or seven hours after we had entered the hospital, driving through ice and sleet at near freezing temperatures, we emerged in spring time: balmy temperatures, blue skies and the drip-drip of melting ice and snow – a new world, both inside and out. It felt like a good omen: onwards to spring time and a clean bill of health!