Surgery and Recovery

Last Thursday J had her surgery. It was classified as a simple mastectomy, but the surgeon also removed a few potentially suspicious lymph nodes. Including prep time and post-surgery time in the recovery room, the process lasted about three to three and a half hours. According to J, what hurt most was when the nurse injected the radioactive tracer near the tumor site. If I recall correctly, it was two injections of an acidic fluid containing radioactive elements that would map the flow through her lymph nodes. The nurse shared stories of different patients' reactions, from those who barely reacted to those who were extremely expressive by any measure. I was on the other side of the curtain when the two injections were given, but I didn't hear a single complaint from J, and afterwards she seemed as serene as someone who was about to enter surgery could be.

From pre-op preparation to operating room to post-op recovery, J was strong. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but in this case, being an experienced member of the medical community, she was clearly focused on one thing. Still groggy from the general anesthesia, throat hoarse from being recently intubated, and barely able to mumble her words as her body had not yet fully woken up, she nonetheless fixated on her one question, "How many lymph nodes had to be removed?"

I think that really was the key question. The tumor in her breast would be removed as planned, and then any suspicious lymph nodes would be removed as part of a procedure called a sentinel node biopsy, performed to assess whether her cancer had spread. The surgeon explained as much to me in the waiting room when he had completed the procedure. They had to remove more lymph nodes than they would generally expect (six vs two or three), but that was what the radioactive tracer told them. The lymph nodes are the gateway to metastasis to the other parts of the body, and if the cancer had already spread before the surgery, that would have significant influence on the subsequent treatment regimens. Fingers crossed as we are still waiting for the pathology report to come back.

After a hopefully short night in the hospital, J was released the next morning to go home to convalesce. Doctor's orders are for her to move her right arm as she can to prevent it from completely atrophying and stiffening up. However, for all intents and purposes, she should consider herself to be one-armed at the moment. Fortunately, her family is supporting her to take some load off of her shoulders. From chatting with her regularly, I can attest that her spirits are generally positive. As J often says, "It is what it is." She has always been a realist, and she is more keenly aware than I am of where she is in this marathon.