On
February 23rd I went to a local hospital where my surgery was
scheduled. I checked in about an hour prior to the scheduled time and waited in
the waiting room with my family. Shortly after, my name was called for surgery
prep. The time spent back there seemed like eternity. I was briefed by the
nurses and learned my OBGYN was running late for the surgery. When she finally
arrived she asked if I had any questions and I had just one. Will I be able to
go home after my surgery? She informed me that usually this surgery is
outpatient, but it just depended on how long the actual surgery took and how
well I responded after the fact. The last things I remember after kissing my
family good bye was that I was given a mask for anesthesia while being rolled
to the operating room. Then right before I was totally unconscious, I can
recall the surgeon team moving me from the gurney to the operating table and
asking if I was ok. I must have been knocked out after that point because the
next thing I remember was waking to an agonizing pain.
This
is where I began my blog journey with my first post entitled, “It wasn’t a
dream…it was my reality.” Here I described when I first was awakened from
surgery. I was in a deep fog and I could hear someone calling my name, but I
could not come to. This must have gone on for several minutes until I believe
one of the nurses must have applied force to really awaken me. When I finally
opened my eyes I looked up to about 4-5 nurses who then began asking me whether
I had cancer in my family and if so, what kind and what ages were they when
diagnosed. It was then I knew I had cancer. I was still heavily sedated and in
much agonizing pain so none of that mattered much at the time. I recall being
in the post op recovery room for some time and then being rolled into an actual
hospital room where I had to be transferred into another bed. That, by far, seemed like the most cruel and
unusual pain I ever recall experiencing. I had to use every muscle in my body
to slide from one bed to the next and I couldn’t fathom why this was required
for two reasons. For one, how did they expect someone who just had surgery on
their stomach to have to move? And two, when and why wasn’t I getting prepared
to go home?
My
family came in one at a time to visit me, but I was in too much pain to say
much. I laid there silent in my own thoughts wondering how did I get there? What
did this mean for my future? I prayed that my parents wouldn’t ever have to
bury me. I hoped that my husband didn’t lose his wife, as we are too young for
this. How do we move on from this? Will I need chemo and radiation? Will I lose
all my hair? And finally, once again, when was I going home?
I
tried talking to my husband to gain answers to the many questions running
through my mind, but he was vague. He never really confirmed I had cancer, or
maybe I was in denial. I really didn’t want to believe it. It wasn’t until
later that night that I started getting more answers. That night the
gynecologic oncologist stopped by and said, “Mrs. Bridges, we found a granulosa
cell tumor on your ovary and it was removed, but a portion of your ovary is
intact and we are going to remove it.” He said, “I will give you two weeks to
heal from this surgery, but I’m going back in in another two weeks.“ He rambled on about some other things, but I
couldn’t get past “granulosa tumor” and some other technical words he said. He
was so curt, short and honest that I immediately disliked him. Didn’t he know that
I had just had surgery? Couldn’t he spare my feelings? Couldn’t he have said
things in a bit nicer way? I completely wrote him off and decided he wasn’t
performing my surgery!
The
very next morning my OBGYN paid me a visit and she truly knew how to deal with
me. She was patient and took the time to really answer my questions. She
explained that while in surgery they immediately knew it was a granulosa cell
tumor and she immediately called the gynecologic oncologist, as he is one of
the best. She explained she understood my concerns with him, but to give him
another chance because he truly knows what he is doing. She said she left a small
portion of my left ovary intact because it appeared to be normal, but she had removed
the entire tumor, which she sent for testing. She confirmed that the gynecologic
oncologist didn’t agree and wanted to remove the rest. She said the reason she
didn’t remove it the first time was because they had gone in not knowing what they
would find and by the time the gynecologic oncologist arrived I had already
been under anesthesia for too long. She
explained that not only was it for my well-being, but that my family would be
worried if I was in surgery for so many hours. She reconfirmed that I would be
in surgery once again in another two weeks and that she would be checking on
me. Before she left the room she said the words I had been longing to hear, I
could go home!
I
recalled a quote I read by Maya Angelou that says, “The ache for home lives in
all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.”
Home was safe and I was happy to be going there.
