Over the course of 24 hours, my surgery was on and off and on again. In the end, I was one of only 6 surgeries that day: 6 surgeries deemed essential and too important to postpone. As glad as I am that the second surgery is now over, I’m still not exactly sure how I feel about my surgery being so essential, I couldn’t be postponed. But moving on, security was tight. I was scanned going in and scanned sitting and then scanned again. Francis wasn’t allowed to go back with me although he got scanned too. It was all a bit of a blur because I’d taken a pre-surgery happy pill so as not to stress over my stupidfuckingbreastcancer surgery do-over. When my surgeon came in to the room to talk about the labs that had been updated so now I have three bad spots instead of just one, the blur became an unpleasant blur. Was I supposed to change my mind about the surgery? Should I say “MASTECTOMY ME!!” So many whirling thoughts that concluded with me thinking, I’d rather have a third surgery than make any more decisions just then.
Ready to go.
Afterwards, Francis took me home and then I collapsed on the sofa with Frankie.
Frankie on Duty
The next day, much sooner than I expected, my surgeon called to tell me I had clear margins which was and is awesome. So now my life is freed up to focus on the same things as everyone else in the world: the Pandemic and the end of life as we’ve known it.