It takes a Posse

This is me with the Posse Leader, my middle daughter, Megan. This pic was taken 4 days after surgery.

On Tuesday, October 18th, this child of mine stuck to me like glue. She drove me to the hospital and sat next to me as I was introduced to the pre-op process. This process included, but was not limited to, getting my nose swabbed 4 times to prevent mersa, donning very fashionable compression tights, getting a blood-thinning shot in my belly, AND the much anticipated shot of blue dye into each breast up in the "nuke med" wing of the hospital. (which, may I add, was NOT painful, so quit yer cringing!)

Our pastor came back to the pre-op room and prayed for me/us. My sweet child was a trooper, and finally it was time for me to get wheeled up to the OR. Megan then returned to the waiting room where some more posse members were waiting. I was taken back for surgery about an hour late, 1:30pm. The cute anesthesiologist started me with versed which he promised would give me a "buzz." Next thing I knew, I was being wheeled to the recovery room at 3:30. It's a strange feeling, waking up from surgery. My mind felt weird: "Wait-where-am-i-oh-i-am-still-alive-i-wonder-how-it-went-and-i-want-to-see-my-people."

I was in the recovery room a little longer than expected due to a blood-pressure dip. I was in my room by 7PM. What a day!

Knowing that my posse was waiting, praying, worrying made ALL the difference. It was a long day, and they hung out all day long, checking the hi-tech reader board which tracked my progress. Dr. F came out with the news that it went well and that he was 95% sure that the cancer had not spread.

It's now Monday, 6 days later. I head in to the doc today to get the pathology report. There's more to write about the last 6 days, but I'll save it, lest this post get too long. Have I thanked you for lifting me up? THANK YOU!