13. The One with the Mastectomy Part 1

 In the last episode we left off with the night before my mastectomy.


The next morning, Monday November 22, 2021 my mom showed up at my place to drive me to the hospital.

I weirdly made the decision to leave my phone with her. Somehow I thought not having open access to what I was going to go through would somehow be helpful.

I took my iPad in case I wanted to watch something but left my phone at home. My mom had a note saved and access to my phone so she could text 'the list' an update afterwards.

My go to process when it came to updating the circle of trust, was to type a note and then copy and paste to all who were along for the ride at that point (journey to the center of the shit show...)

I would edit based on the person but try to capture the basic facts at one time. Having that organization was comforting to me.

I remember packing and repacking my bag three times. How did I know what I was going to need, I didn't technically know how long I was going to be in the hospital at that point.

I had googled what to pack for such a surgery and most suggestions were loose clothing, shirts with buttons. So I packed all of that. And a zipper hoodie, and extra socks and four pairs of underwear.


Panic packing is a talent I have developed over the years. I either overpack or way under pack. I never seem to hit it just right.

And as someone who travels frequently for work, you would think I would have it down to a science.

Not only do I not know what to pack, I procrastinate the hell out of it.

 My grandfather used to call me a 'go-getter' and I usually am. If I got something to do, I usually get on with it. 

But packing.... I would grout the tub before throwing clothes in a suitcase. Case in point: Headed to Colorado Monday morning and had to be up at 3:30 a.m.

 Sunday night at 8 p.m. still not a stitch of clothing in a suitcase. 

But Christmas was sorted and my t-shirt drawer un folded and refolded.



So bag packed and ride to hospital complete, I said goodbye to my mom, promised the staff had her number and went up to the surgery center.
I was the only one there besides the receptionist and I sat quietly in the waiting room for the nurse. 

Once she came back to get me, I had tried deep breathing, pretended to read a magazine and basically kept myself together mentally with chicken wire and chewing gum.

I got settled in the room, put on the johnny and accept the offer of a warm blanket. 
I don't know who decided warm blankets were important during the pre-surgery process but they were a freaking genius. 
I love a warm blanket more than a puppy and it is so comforting to me. 

The nurse came back in and walks me through what I can expect to occur:
The surgeons will come in to discuss the procedure with me
The anesthesiologist will come in and chat with me
I will go downstairs (guess who's back??) to have dye injected into the boob
I will be sedated and have surgery

Ok, this we had covered before and I didn't have any questions at that point.

If you are familiar with "in came the doctor, in came the nurse..." this is how things felt for a time after rules of engagement were complete.




First the cancer surgeon. Asked how I was feeling, and I retorted:
 It doesn't matter how I feel, how do YOU feel? She smiled and said she was ready.
Then proceeded to draw all over the left side in Sharpie - THIS SIDE with arrows.
Again, comforting and troubling in equal measure.
As she was drawing she walked me through the plan, how long, what would happen and the likelihood I would be in the hospital overnight. 
She promised she was going to take good care of me, gave my hand a squeeze and was off. 

Then the plastic surgeon came in about 20 minutes after the cancer surgeon. 
He sat down on the bed next to me, asked how I was and walked me through his portion of the surgery. He also wrote on me in sharpie, but a different color.
 He said that he was going to take great care of me and reassured me that he was confident the long term results would be great.
He gave my hand a squeeze and a pat on the cheek. 
And I believed he was going to deliver on his promise (Spoiler alert: he did).


Then the anesthesiologist came in. I had not met him before so it was our first interaction. He took my vitals and walked me through how I would be sedated. 

He then told me his wife, sister and mom had all had and survived breast cancer. He said from that moment and for the rest of the time I was in his care I was family.
 And he was going to treat me as such.
He checked my IV line, gave me a big hug and told me he would see me in the operating room.

After he left I started crying. I don't know what I expected from the medical professionals taking care of me that day, but the kindness, care and understanding they all showed was overwhelming in the best way possible.

I had kind of been like "Kristi Anne, keep calm and carry on. You got this. Don't be a bitch." (See previous post about negative reinforcement) and reminded myself of all that I endured prior to this and lived through. Cancer was not the worst thing that ever happened to me. 

As far as I was concerned, I was going to sleep for five hours, be hopped on pain meds for a period of time and eventually come out the other side stronger for the experience.

To have these (mostly) total strangers show so much care in what was a super shitty situation, but one they saw everyday was more than I dared to expect. But they exceeded my expectations in all the best ways. 

A short time later the nurse came in with a wheelchair for my trip downstairs.  Back to the basement where my friend the radiologist awaited my return.

Next time on Kris vs. Cancer The Mastectomy Part 2








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