As life started to slow down for me in mid-June, my mom drove the six-hour trip for my surgical biopsy, despite it being the last week of the school year for her, too. There was no better place to be than by her daughter’s side. My (always supportive) husband took the day off to care for me during recovery. Without those two, and their ability to lighten the mood, I would have been a nervous wreck.
The surgical biopsy was an experience in itself. More mammography images were needed to insert a wire into my left breast as a placement marker. I experienced minimal pain during that time, but again, spent a significant amount of time in front of the mammography machine while the doctor and nurse worked. Being wheeled to the surgical floor with a wire sticking out of my gown could have been embarrassing; however, I was so focused on the surgery that it all seemed to blur.
The general surgery staff was absolutely amazing. They all introduced themselves, made me feel as comfortable as possible. My surgeon even said I would barely be asleep and to watch my tongue; she expected a funny conversation between the two of us. Thankfully, I was in the recovery room 45 minutes later — with the news that I was uncooperative in telling blond jokes! I have to say, having her as my general surgeon sure made the multiple biopsy experiences bearable.
I was finally able to head home the day of my surgery with the expectations to take the rest of the week off. Resting from surgery was needed, even though I was rearing to go the next day. I took the following days off as a blessing. They allowed me time to spend time with my mom, a woman who has been through it all before. It allowed my husband and I time to talk to our daughter about what mommy was going through, and to ease her mind that I would be okay. It gave me one of the greatest gifts: more cuddles and loves from one brave little girl as the waiting game for my results started.
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