So. Alone in the waiting room. It feels like time has been stopped. I can't help but look around the waiting room and meet a few other ladies glances. I'm sure that we are all wondering if we're there for the same thing. If we all wore badges showing first names and types of surgery I'm sure it would be a great ice breaker.
After a while, I'm called through by a nurse for blood to be taken in case I need a transfusion. Gulp. Cue increase in blood pressure. The nurses are lovely though, and we breeze through it. Ish. I also get given some exceedingly sexy surgical stockings and although I soon have to pop down to the Nuclear department for my injection, we get the stockings on in case we run out of time.
Confession. I actually like wearing surgical stockings. My legs swell at the best of times and they are really really comfy.
The nurse compliments me on my muscled legs. Second compliment of the day. I think they're pretty dumpy, but hey ho, I'll take compliments wherever/whenever I can get them.
The comments about how young I am I'm not going to take as compliments though. I feel far to young to have cancer and be having a mastectomy.
Apparently the plan is for me to go down to the nuclear department at 9am with another lady then I'll get changed and ready for the op. And breathe.
So, after a while we are collected up and wander down to have our radioactive injections. Neither of us are paying much attention to where we are going, which results in a few giggles when we're left in another waiting room and told we have to find our way back up after we have been seen. Whoops.
I get called in first, and nearly have a heart attack. In the middle of the consultation room is a chair that looks like it has come out of an old fashioned dentists - it is seriously Sweeney Tod style and doesn't do a lot for my nerves.
The lovely lady who is looking after me notices my discomfort and we have a bit of a laugh about Frankenstein's monster and radioactive jabs.....she also then confesses that the needle is tiny tiny tiny and won't hurt a jot. Easy for her to say.
Now, I never look at needles when I'm being jabbed but I did this time, just to check. She wasn't lying - it is a teeny needle (I never thought I'd say that!!) and I finally sit down and "relax". One thing I'll say about biopsy needles is they have made everything else look like a piece of piss in comparison.
It turns out that the Emla cream has worked and I don't feel a thing. Few. I get dressed again, have a joke about the fact I've had my top looked up/down more times in the last month than ever before in my life, and go back to the waiting room. I've said I'll wait for the other lady being seen so we can get lost on the way back to the SDAU together.
No sooner does my bum hit the seat though than I'm told I have to hot foot it back to the SDAU immediately as they are waiting for me. Frick. Apparently it really is going to happen.
Despite being shown out of a different door, I manage to find my way back without getting lost, reclaim my bag, and I'm shown into a side room so I can get changed. Ah yes, a hospital gown. And paper Bridget Jones style knickers. Luverly.
Apparently, all there is to do now is wait to be collected and be taken through to theatre.
My bladder is still nervous, so I tell the receptionist I'm not running away, merely nipping to the loo, and do what I have to do.
Checking the clock on the way back through, it is 9.40.
Back in the side room, I can't concentrate on reading, so lie down on the bed for a nap as I'm totally knackered by this point. Quite looking forward to a 2hr nap in all honesty. It's just a shame that I'll be having a mastectomy at the same time.
Eventually, (time has slowed again at this point, but it has only been about 20mins) I am collected by the anaesthetist's nurse and taken on another walk through to theatre.
Everyone is lovely - very chatty, charming and relaxed which helps enormously. I hop on the bed, lie down and have the cannula put in, which hurts like hell, but it's good enough apparently. Excellent. Good enough will do if it means I don't wake up during the op!
At this point the lovely Mr Pain saunters through, holding two mugs. We joke about him needing two coffees to get going - apparently only one is coffee, the other is green tea. The coffee is for after the op......sadly not for me.
The last thing I remember is having a random chat about the American elections then Mr Sharp saying I might feel something cold going up my arm.........
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
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