Drugs, Drugs, Drugs. Which Are Good, Which Are Bad?

I woke up in the recovery room after what seemed to be a cat nap-- just as my mother had told me. Except, now I was feeling extremely groggy and 'doped up.' I vaguely remember speaking with Dr. Butler, but I have no recollection of what was said. What I do remember was immediately thinking about how much I appreciated the nurse and the anesthesist. I thought I had a dream that I was speaking to Craig (the anesthesist) and thanking him. So, when he came by the bed to ask if I was doing alright, I said: "That was weird." And he asked what was on my mind. I told him I had a dream about him. He replied that it was impossible to dream under anesthetic and asked me to tell him what I was thinking about. I told him I thought I was talking to him and thanking him, and he told me that actually happened! Embarrasing. Goodness knows what else I said to them. He told me that when I came to I immediately asked for Craig, and when he came over to me I shook his hand and thanked him. At least they know they were appreciated.

After about a 45 minute wait, I was wheeled out to the same place where I came in to get changed a few hours earlier, the day surgery unit. I saw my mom, dad, and aunt Gladys waiting for me. I had never been so happy to see them. The nurse parked my bed in the large room and brought me water, tea, and a blueberry muffin. It tasted sooo good after not having eaten since yesterday at suppertime. We sat and chatted while waiting for the anesthetic to wear off. By around 3pm I was on my way home.

That night proved to be quite an experience. I thought I was on top of the world for a while, but as the freezing began to wear off, the pain began to kick in. During a lumpectomy, nerves and muscles become damaged, so this is where most of the pain comes from. I found myself taking 1-2 tylenol 3s every few hours to hide the pain and discomfort. Laying on my bed became a chore. It felt like my chest was going to split open with every subtle motion. At one point, I had finally situated myself in a comfortable position on the bed, and Mike came to lay beside me. The impact of his body on the bed sent immediate pain all through me. I popped more pain killers ... but this only proved to worsen my state. You see, as I mentioned before, I had never previously been ill enough to have to take pain killers, so my body wasn't used to them. After a day of taking the maximum dosage of tylenol with codene, my stomach began to rot. By around 10pm I was gagging, heaving, and about to vomit. Vomitting is bad enough, but I also had severe chest pain from surgery. As I mentioned, any subtle movement equalled pain. So I feared that if I threw up, the pain would be unbearable. Mike and my mother tried to help, but I wanted none of it. I wanted to be alone. I shooed them out of my room and sat hanging over the garbage bucket for about 20 minutes--alone. Finally, my mother convinced me to take yet another pill (Gravol) to ease the nausea. The gravol mixed with some TLC from Michael had me out like a light within 20 minutes.

The next day (Saturday) was much better. I still had some discomfort, but nothing compared to the hellish night I had encountered. I made sure only to take the Tylenol 3 with lots of food, and took them sparingly. I tried to go about my daily business as best as possible. The pain limited me to going out for coffee with Lindsey, visiting with family, and watching movies with Mike. But, these little things were the things I came to appreciate when all this happened. You see, when something like this happens your world becomes narrowed. Instead of seeing all the little things, you start to see the big picture. When I was away in Korea and was first diagnosed with breast cancer, I remember thinking about what I would do when I got home. Mike and I wallowed in our daydreams together. Movies. Cuddling on the couch. Good ol' Tim Hortons coffee. Long drives. The great outdoors. The Cabot Trail. Family. Friends. It was these little things that we missed and came to appreciate. Everything became narrowed down. It was clear what was important to us.