D - Day Part three

Part three? Sorry, hope I'm not waffling too much. 

So, I wake up, which is a Good Thing. My fear of GA's is all related to not waking up.

Also, I'm not shaking - the only other time I've had a GA and also when I had an epidural with the biggest child, I got the shakes which was horrid.

No shaking, and I'm alive. Wrong order, but you know what I mean. 

There's a nurse chatting to me, and I eventually tune in. I ask the time and find out it is 1.10pm. Quite a decent nap then. Result. 

I ask whether they took any extra nodes out (which was being done if the Sentinel Lymph node test came back positive) other than what was planned - just the axillary nodes, and the answer is no - so far so good, with the normal caveat that it will be another week or two before we know for sure. Huge relief for now though.

I ask if someone can call my husband to let him know I'm okay, and the nurse leaves me for a moment to do it. This gives me time to get my bearings and try to assess whether I can feel anything. I'm a bit sore, so when I'm asked if I'd like my paracetamol and ibuprofen it is a resounding yes. I usually hate taking painkillers but figure this is a special occasion.

We have a lovely chat in general about what I do work wise (I'm an auctioneer, if you hadn't already gathered) and I'm delighted to be able to give some advice whilst I'm there, about house clearance and what is saleable/not saleable.

Finally today I feel like I'm doing something useful.

After about 30mins or so the nurse looks at my wound (I'm choosing not to look at this point) and I am deemed fit to go down to the ward, and am wheeled through the maze of corridors that makes up our local hospital. It's amazing how people don't look at you when you're on a bed though. Really odd - no one makes eye contact at all. 

Another excellent result is that I'm put in a private room and I have a great view out of the window to the main entrance. People watching is always good fun.

Yet another nurse comes to see me - it seems it is just her and I for a while, so we have a nice chat, she gets me some yoghurts and crisps as I am starving, and I drink the better part of a jug of water. After about 45mins she comes back, has a look at my wound - it isn't bleeding or weeping. My blood pressure is also checked, and it's a bit low but nothing to worry about.

I chance a quick look this time and it isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Everything is completely covered up so no blood in sight. It is a bit flat though, but then, what on earth else did I expect?

Right, so time to get up, and I'm helped to the loo and have to pee in a cardboard container so they can check that I am in working order. I nearly flood the damn thing, and therefore pass with flying colours.

I don't fancy getting dressed quite yet so settle down to read my book and promptly fall asleep. About an hour later a totally different nurse comes in to check my blood pressure again - it's still low, but I've been asleep so pretty normal. Wound not weeping or bleeding, so I'm left in peace again.

I think by this time it is about 3.30 and when I am next checked on I ask for help to get up so I can go for a wander. I do a few laps of the ward but am a bit wobbly, so sit down for a bit. 

Apparently I can go home whenever I like, subject to having a chat with Mr Pain first, but I give my husband a buzz and we decide he will put the smallest child to bed at 6 ish before then coming to pick me up. As it is, visiting hours are 2-4pm then 6-8pm so he can't come for ages anyway, even if I'm not allowed out.

I also ring my parents, and answer a few lovely text messages. Whilst people watching, I can't help but notice the surprising number of people wearing dressing gowns and surgical stockings that are wandering around the hospital entrance smoking. Including, to my disgust, one fairly heavily pregnant woman. 

One of the nurses walks in and catches me swearing under my breath so enquires why. We both decide that I shouldn't really throw anything out of the window....

Around 4.30 - 5pm ish Mr Pain comes for a quick chat. He's pleased with how everything went, and confirms I'm allowed home. I feel a bit cheated by the fact it was a very short conversation bearing in mind the build up I've had over the last few weeks, but console myself with the fact that nothing he saw today warranted a long in depth chat, so I start counting my lucky stars instead.

The next nurse through the door gets collared to help me get dressed which means the cannula can finally be taken out as well. Phew. I hate the bloody things. 

Proper clothes feel like heaven and I take a few more spins around the ward, much to everyone's entertainment. 

Apparently I am very vain though. Shortly after I got dressed, Kit, my breast care nurse popped in to say hi, and deliver two "softies" - bra fillers in other words. I am feeling very flat, so pop one in my crop top. Looking at myself fully clothed in the mirror, you'd never know. This is reassuring - so many people know I am going to lose/have lost a breast - at least I can fool most of the rest of the world.

I can't see the lady I went down to the Nuclear department with when I'm on one of my walks, and when I ask I find she has gone to another ward, which is a shame. I was going to pop in and say hi - she looked even more nervous than I was. 

After a while, I am visited by dishy Jnr doctor, and enthusiastic Jnr doctor. They are both slightly crestfallen that I have already seen Mr Pain which means they are too late to give me any news! However, they are both very thorough and nice, so having exchanged smalltalk, they check my wound, and away they go, after giving me a sick note for 2 weeks.

I've been lucky enough never to have been given/had to ask for a sick note before. Perhaps I should have had it made out to me rather than my employer? I am not good at relaxing. Perhaps now is going to be the time to learn?

At 6 or so, I pass up the chance to have supper as I'm on a promise - Chinese takeaway tonight, as a reward for making it to the end of the week. 

Just before 7pm I sign all my release notes, so am free to go whenever my husband arrives, which is about 7.30pm.

Never has a (gentle) hug felt so so good. 

Free to go, I say good bye to the wonderful nursing staff and saunter out of hospital, feeling slightly more dazed and confused than when I went in, but otherwise okay. I'm dosed up on drugs and can honestly say from a physical point of view, I can't feel a thing, "it" feels fine, and my arm is no worse than it was before.

Mentally, I have no idea how I'm feeling. I'll work that one out over the next few weeks. Denial is a lovely place - I might have to move there permanently.

Sitting in the car park, we order Chinese which is going to take over an hour, so we have time to stop at the pub on the way home. My husband is rather horrified, but quite frankly, he deserves a quick half pint, and I really fancy a cold coke.

When in the bar I suddenly realise that I still have my wrist and ankle tags on (as well as the fetching stockings which I have to keep on overnight). I ask the barman for a pair of scissors and remove them, which gets me a few funny looks. I explain that I've not escaped from the asylum which gets a few laughs and everyone settles back down.

By the time we get home it is about 9pm, so we eat, and enjoy the fact that the smallest child behaved beautifully for Grandma. By 10pm, we're both falling asleep, so I check my wound, and show my husband, so he can also provide an opinion as to whether or not it swells much in the next few days. Nothing has changed, so I shelve all my thoughts about it for another day.

Sleep is desparately needed - I'm quite "full" having not fed the smallest all day, and I don't quite know how I am going to go about it when he does wake.

Deep breaths and small steps.