Running Through Cancer -- Chop Shop
This little cancer boob nugget of mine has caused me quite enough grief lately. In deciding what to do about the diagnosis, the prevailing thought was that the first step was to carve it out. I'm someone who asks a lot of questions and doesn't always go with the conventional wisdom, but all roads seemed to turn to the chop shop on this one.
I scheduled my lumpectomy for the end of April. Despite the fact that it is full on surgery, complete with the tube-down-the-throat complete suite of anesthesia, this did seem like a pretty routine procedure. Certainly, my doctor seemed well qualified to perform the task and I had no doubt all would be well.
I reported for surgery at 7am. In the paperwork process, they want to know things like whether you have a healthcare directive or a living will. Let me just say, this is not the most comforting thing to bring up when someone is presenting themselves for what they believe is to be a routine procedure!
After the paperwork phase, I was sent to the breast clinic at the medical complex for a wire placement. This is a fun process whereby they proceed to squeeze and squish the boob with the cancer into a mammogram machine. Note: this is the same boob which has already been subjected to the rather brutal biopsy process and is still a bit tender. Once secured in their vise, they asked me to hold my breath and be very still while they took various shots of the little cancer nugget. Satisfied they had it in view, they then numbed the boob with a shot (no biggie, really) and then they put this longer hollow needle right into the little nugget. Once placed, they slid a wire down into the hollow needle and skewered the boob nut. Specifically, they are hooking it right onto the "ribbon" marker they'd left in the breast from the biopsy.
Those cute little pink breast cancer ribbons you see everywhere? Yep, those are replicas of the little markers they leave in all the cancerous boobs in America. I thought, as I was held in the vice-like grip of the mammogram machine, this was a dark bit of trivia I could've lived without.
Once they'd skewered the little boob nut, I was released from the vise. At this point, I felt like a crazed boob unibomber with a detonator sticking out of my breast. The wire is very slim, metallic silver, and about 10" long sticking right out of my right boob! The technician helping me strapped it down with some strong tape and had me gently get dressed so we could switch buildings down to where my surgery would take place.
In the surgery center, I was brought into my very own little curtain cubicle. There was a standard issue hospital bed, a couple of chairs, and IV pole, and a bunch of equipment along the head of the bed. I was given a robe (open in the back), a pair of fuzzy socks and two oven warmed blankets. After rubbing my right side down with an anti-bacterial wipe, I slipped into the robe and under the blankets to wait.
I was visited by the nurse who would handle all the checking in and oversight, two anesthesiologists, and my doctor. An IV was started with some electrolytes and fluids, they asked a bunch of questions, put their initials on my right collar bone (to make sure they don't mix up the sides while I'm in there!), took my vital signs and whisked me off to the operating room. Once they slip that sedation into the liquid dripping into your veins, it's lights out!
I felt like waking from surgery was like coming out of the deepest, most relaxed sleep. It was so quiet and peaceful in my head that I just wanted to keep sleeping. Every time I relaxed, an annoying beeping would start and a nice voice would remind me to "take deep breaths." The first sensation I had was in my right arm. It ached, like I'd had arthritis or a healing broken bone. I kept moving my wrist around, trying to get the ache to go away. The surgical site, my right boob and armpit, were both still numb from local anesthetic, so I couldn't feel much. I could tell they had a big ice pack resting on my chest, but there was no pain.
After about half an hour of checking on my vitals and making sure I was fully awake and coherent, they let me sit up and get dressed. My husband was called in and a wheel chair escort walked us to the car. I kept waiting for a moment when the pain meds would fade and I'd be walloped with pain, but it never came. In truth, the operation site (the boob) never hurt at all. After all, there's not much happening in a glob of boob fat. But my armpit ached where they'd done the lymph node excision, and there was a radiating, almost electrical feeling down my arm where the main nerves were expressing their displeasure at the surgery.
My lingering effect was primarily the numbness in my armpit and down the back of my arm, along my tricep. I was worried I'd be numb for life and have the arm stretch of a t-rex, but it all faded away over several weeks. Within two months I was water skiing and it felt tight but not painful. By the end of summer, around 3-4 months post surgery, the tightness was completely gone and only a small slightly numb patch of skin remained.
I'm sure anyone who's gone through this surgery, or who is newly faced with it, wants to know about their scar, the pain level, what your boob looks like afterward, and likely everything about this whole process I've described. Unless you're a pole dancer or some kind of boob model, the scar is no biggie. In my case, the breast itself doesn't look any different in terms of roundness or fullness (I'm not a big chested girl, but I imagine if a B cup doesn't change with 1/4" lump removed, then anyone larger would be even less noticeable). I do not have any lingering pain, although every now and then I have a tiny sharp spot that buzzes in and then goes away.
My hobby is trail running, so all the bouncing around was a real worry to me. I did an overhaul on my sports bras to weed out any of the less supportive ones and make sure I had some that would allow minimal jiggle. For about 4 months, anytime I'd run down hill I'd hold my boob. Although this always got a snicker from my husband, it didn't bother me and eventually I didn't need to do it anymore.
Overall, I'd advise anyone going in for a lumpectomy to keep your head high and your optimism higher. The downtime and the diagnosis comes with lots of worry and fear of the unknown, but do not let that eat away at you. Take some time to ask as many questions as you want, ready absolutely everything on the subject until you feel more comfortable, then make your choices and stay positive!
I scheduled my lumpectomy for the end of April. Despite the fact that it is full on surgery, complete with the tube-down-the-throat complete suite of anesthesia, this did seem like a pretty routine procedure. Certainly, my doctor seemed well qualified to perform the task and I had no doubt all would be well.
I reported for surgery at 7am. In the paperwork process, they want to know things like whether you have a healthcare directive or a living will. Let me just say, this is not the most comforting thing to bring up when someone is presenting themselves for what they believe is to be a routine procedure!
After the paperwork phase, I was sent to the breast clinic at the medical complex for a wire placement. This is a fun process whereby they proceed to squeeze and squish the boob with the cancer into a mammogram machine. Note: this is the same boob which has already been subjected to the rather brutal biopsy process and is still a bit tender. Once secured in their vise, they asked me to hold my breath and be very still while they took various shots of the little cancer nugget. Satisfied they had it in view, they then numbed the boob with a shot (no biggie, really) and then they put this longer hollow needle right into the little nugget. Once placed, they slid a wire down into the hollow needle and skewered the boob nut. Specifically, they are hooking it right onto the "ribbon" marker they'd left in the breast from the biopsy.
Those cute little pink breast cancer ribbons you see everywhere? Yep, those are replicas of the little markers they leave in all the cancerous boobs in America. I thought, as I was held in the vice-like grip of the mammogram machine, this was a dark bit of trivia I could've lived without.
Once they'd skewered the little boob nut, I was released from the vise. At this point, I felt like a crazed boob unibomber with a detonator sticking out of my breast. The wire is very slim, metallic silver, and about 10" long sticking right out of my right boob! The technician helping me strapped it down with some strong tape and had me gently get dressed so we could switch buildings down to where my surgery would take place.
In the surgery center, I was brought into my very own little curtain cubicle. There was a standard issue hospital bed, a couple of chairs, and IV pole, and a bunch of equipment along the head of the bed. I was given a robe (open in the back), a pair of fuzzy socks and two oven warmed blankets. After rubbing my right side down with an anti-bacterial wipe, I slipped into the robe and under the blankets to wait.
I was visited by the nurse who would handle all the checking in and oversight, two anesthesiologists, and my doctor. An IV was started with some electrolytes and fluids, they asked a bunch of questions, put their initials on my right collar bone (to make sure they don't mix up the sides while I'm in there!), took my vital signs and whisked me off to the operating room. Once they slip that sedation into the liquid dripping into your veins, it's lights out!
I felt like waking from surgery was like coming out of the deepest, most relaxed sleep. It was so quiet and peaceful in my head that I just wanted to keep sleeping. Every time I relaxed, an annoying beeping would start and a nice voice would remind me to "take deep breaths." The first sensation I had was in my right arm. It ached, like I'd had arthritis or a healing broken bone. I kept moving my wrist around, trying to get the ache to go away. The surgical site, my right boob and armpit, were both still numb from local anesthetic, so I couldn't feel much. I could tell they had a big ice pack resting on my chest, but there was no pain.
After about half an hour of checking on my vitals and making sure I was fully awake and coherent, they let me sit up and get dressed. My husband was called in and a wheel chair escort walked us to the car. I kept waiting for a moment when the pain meds would fade and I'd be walloped with pain, but it never came. In truth, the operation site (the boob) never hurt at all. After all, there's not much happening in a glob of boob fat. But my armpit ached where they'd done the lymph node excision, and there was a radiating, almost electrical feeling down my arm where the main nerves were expressing their displeasure at the surgery.
My lingering effect was primarily the numbness in my armpit and down the back of my arm, along my tricep. I was worried I'd be numb for life and have the arm stretch of a t-rex, but it all faded away over several weeks. Within two months I was water skiing and it felt tight but not painful. By the end of summer, around 3-4 months post surgery, the tightness was completely gone and only a small slightly numb patch of skin remained.
I'm sure anyone who's gone through this surgery, or who is newly faced with it, wants to know about their scar, the pain level, what your boob looks like afterward, and likely everything about this whole process I've described. Unless you're a pole dancer or some kind of boob model, the scar is no biggie. In my case, the breast itself doesn't look any different in terms of roundness or fullness (I'm not a big chested girl, but I imagine if a B cup doesn't change with 1/4" lump removed, then anyone larger would be even less noticeable). I do not have any lingering pain, although every now and then I have a tiny sharp spot that buzzes in and then goes away.
My hobby is trail running, so all the bouncing around was a real worry to me. I did an overhaul on my sports bras to weed out any of the less supportive ones and make sure I had some that would allow minimal jiggle. For about 4 months, anytime I'd run down hill I'd hold my boob. Although this always got a snicker from my husband, it didn't bother me and eventually I didn't need to do it anymore.
Overall, I'd advise anyone going in for a lumpectomy to keep your head high and your optimism higher. The downtime and the diagnosis comes with lots of worry and fear of the unknown, but do not let that eat away at you. Take some time to ask as many questions as you want, ready absolutely everything on the subject until you feel more comfortable, then make your choices and stay positive!
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