I hate bee stings.

I made my way to the CBR hospital once again, first for my meeting at the pre-admission clinic. The nurse turned out to be an in-law of my aunt's. This is another adjustment I would have to make--in Cape Breton everyone knows everyone else. By whatever bizarre connection it may be, people are bound to find that link. Nothing is a secret. So I was greeted by a nurse who seemed to know me and everything about my situation already, and I was taken into an office. She was , nonetheless, very nice and helpful (another innate characteristic of CapeBretoners). She explained what I could and could not do before and after the surgery, explained the basic procedures of each surgery, and did some basic tests (blood pressure, etc.). She gave me a special underarm pillow designed for breast surgery patients. It was decorated with pretty pink ribbons, a design which now sticks out to me like a sore thumb.

She directed me to bloodwork, where I was again to have a routine sample taken. I entered this section of the hospital to see a massive group of restless, anxious, and cranky people waiting to have bloodwork. Oh no ... not another waiting period. I went to the registration booth and waited for my number. Surprisingly, the lady told me to go right in. No wait? I can deal with this. Although I felt sorry for the numerous tired and discontented faces, I happily made my way ahead of them. Afterall, I think I deserved it after all I had been through and was about to undergo.

The final battle of the day was the radioactive injection for the Sentinal Node Biopsy (see "Pre-Op Stuff and Some Sugar and Spice). The nurse from the pre-admission clinic told me she wasn't sure what this was going to be like, but she didn't think it would be difficult or painful--at least she didn't hear any complaints about Nuclear Medicine procedures. I, thus, made my way to Nuclear Medicine not knowing what to expect. The unknown was now becoming familiar as well, although not welcomed.

I was met by a nurse and was once again told to remove my shirt and bra. She directed me to lay on my back and began to prepare the room for the radiologist. Soon, the radiologist entered--a lady I had met previously during my ultrasound. She was a very bubbly lady, with lots of energy. So, with a big smile and happy eyes, she informed me that she was going to inject me with radioactive dye, which the sentinal nodes would hopefully pick up. Without changing her expression and without a bit of negativity, she said: "Ok hunny, I'm not gonna lie to you. This isn't going to feel nice." Wait a minute. I thought the nurse said this would be nothing. Oh no!
I replied: "This hurts?" She answered: "Yes hun. It will be pretty painful. The good news is that its quick." I clenched the side of the bed with one hand and my waist with the other. The nurse passed her the needle. "Ah ... wait a minute," the doctor said. "You must have a smaller needle than that. We want to give Melanie as little pain as possible. Can you go get a smaller one?" They talked about needle sizes and things I couldn't understand. But what I did understand was that this was going to HURT. My heart raced. I wanted to get up and run for dear life. I wished I had someone to cling to. The nurse suddenly appeared once again. "Sorry. There are no other sizes." What??? You mean to tell me you just told the nurse that the needle would cause me tremendous pain RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME and now you are going to give it to me anyway? Please don't give it to me anyway. "Ok then. Looks like we'll have to use this one my dear. Don't worry, it will be quick." My nerves were literally SHOT. The nurse told me to squeeze her hand and at me came Dr. Isles with the dreaded stick of metal. And she was exactly right. This needle felt like a long beesting, but the sensation was ten times more intense.
"All done," she smiled, full of business. I quickly jumped up. But wait a minute. Ahhhhhh! The sensation got WORSE! The doctor lied to me! She told me it would be quick. This was true ... of the actual injection. But the pain lingered and continued to intensify afterwards. I started to cry. Why am I such a wimp? I blurted: "I'm a wimp," trying to quickly wipe away the evident tears. "You're a wimp?! Look at me, I'm crying too and I didn't even get the needle!" Dr.Isles had a few tears in her eyes. The nurse ran and got me an icepack and told me that this would help ease the pain. She explained that the sensation was caused from the material under the skin, but as it spread out, it would soon fade.

I got dressed and went out to the waiting room, where my mother and Mike sat waiting patiently. I was happier than ever to exit those hospital doors.