Firstly, thank you for all the sweet emails that you’ve sent, telling me that you’re thinking of me and asking about what’s happening. I’ve been avoiding it all because I have a tendency to freak out. So instead I’ve been really mature and just not thought about it, pretending it didn’t exist. But on Monday I can pretend no longer. Earlier in the week I met with a surgeon and on Monday, I’m scheduled for surgery to get the lump removed. Everyone is still hedging their bets it’s benign… But you know, the medical profession aren’t so au fait with betting where cancer is concerned. Every medical professional who has weighed in, would prefer it to be taken out and analysed so we know for sure. I can see their point. But the thing is, I’m not good with needles, especially when they have to stay in.
You’d think having had two caesarians I’d be used to an operating table by now. But the last c-section scared me a little. My anaesthetist wasn’t really the best and his… how can I put this… lack of ability to get the needle in my vein didn’t give me confidence in his ability to find the right place in my spine. Long story short, my doubts about his competence (especially when his assistant kept offering to take over) meant I kept passing out. You wouldn’t think this would be a problem, I mean you’re supposed to be lying down on the operating table to get the baby taken out. Problem was, I needed to be sitting upright to have the epidural put in my spine… Fortunately one of the attending nurses was a good catch. Which was handy considering he had to catch me no less than three times.
My freak out about Monday isn’t the big ‘going under’ part. I figure all too soon I’ll be ‘under’ so I won’t have a clue what is going on. It’s the bit that needs to come before that has me freaking out. The first thing that happens is that I’m wheeled down to the ultrasound (luckily I’ll be in a bed and lying down for all of this), where they will give me local anaesthetic, then insert a wire with a hook on the end. They then secure the hook to the lump. This will ensure that they remove the correct lump later. Again, contrary to what you might believe, this doesn’t worry me so much. What freaks me out is that I then have to wait around, with the wire hanging out of me, until they’re ready for me in surgery… and I know from previous experience, every time I see that wire – I’m likely to pass out.
I realise how silly I sound now, freaking out about a little bit of wire hanging out of me, instead of freaking out about the larger picture that they are removing this lump because, you know, there could be a small chance that it is cancerous… But let’s focus on the problem that isn’t going to totally send me insane. Because I think I can be mature and possibly deal with a little bit of wire hanging out of me… The reality of the other is a little too much to deal with.