Jen Alderman with her daughter Riley.
I have always been pretty healthy, and my hospital experience has been limited to the labor and delivery of my three kids. I’ve never even had a cavity, let alone major surgery, so when I entered the hospital early on the morning of December 7 to undergo bilateral mastectomies, there were some surprises. My six-hour surgery was deemed a success after pathology came back that all of the cancer had been removed. That information provided a great deal of relief, and has allowed me to look back at the surgery surprises and laugh a bit about the experience. Because of this, I decided to write a list of “The Things Nobody Tells You About Major Surgery That You Should Know”.
Cancer Patient Walking: My first big shock of the day came when the nurse came to take me to the OR for surgery, and she MADE ME WALK THERE! In the movies they always show the patient being wheeled on a gurney down the hall while their loved ones hold their hands and profess their never-ending devotion to the patient. My experience was more like a scene out of “The Green Mile.” All I needed was Tom Hanks marching behind me yelling, “Cancer patient walking!” while I shuffled off in my sad little blue gown and green surgical socks. Also, I’m blind as a bat and they took away my glasses, so I couldn’t see where I was going and I almost ran down my surgeon when I walked full steam into the OR. The final insult: they made me hop up on the operating table myself! After all that I half expected them to ask me to hold the clamps for them during surgery.
I Need a Java Drip STAT! It is a well known fact that you are not allowed to eat or drink after midnight the day of your surgery, so that was not a shock. But I’m a two-cup a morning girl, and I wasn’t prepared for the reality that by the time I finally walked into the OR I would be experiencing serious caffeine withdrawal. Finally the anesthesiologist announced that he was about to give me some drugs to put me to sleep, and java-deprived crank living inside me spoke up and said, “It’s about damn time!” I thought my surgeon, who had been loyally standing by me, was going to fall over from laughing, and he told me later he’d never had a patient say that before. I may have to mainline a latte before my next procedure.
The Cuckoo’s Nest: When I woke up after surgery in the recovery room, I was shocked to find that I wasn’t the only patient there. Nobody warned me that I would be sharing such a bizarre time with complete strangers. I was still without my glasses, drifting in and out of consciousness, which only added to the Twilight Zone experience. I could hear moaning and groaning and nurses trying to restrain patients who were trying to get up and leave. When I heard a woman scream from the other side of the room, “I just can’t take it anymore!” I considered the possibility that I had been accidentally routed to the psych ward (although in my head I responded to her, “I hear you sister!”). I foolishly thought a recovery area would be a quiet, calm, and private place where you could peacefully transfer out of anesthesia to consciousness, but I found out the hard way “Recovery Room” is actually hospital code for “Holding Cell”.
It’s Not as Bad as You Think: Even though I wasn’t prepared for all the surprises waiting for me during surgery, I had prepared myself for this to be a horrible experience, and that it wasn’t turned out to be the last, and best, surprise. I was blessed with gifted physicians who worked hard to leave me with as little physical and emotional scars as possible. I had amazing nurses who took great care of me, and did so while allowing me to hang on to my dignity. And due to the love and support I received from my family and friends, I never for one single moment felt alone. Having a mastectomy is not an experience I would wish upon my worst enemy, but I would gladly tell anyone facing this surgery this, “It’s not as bad as you think.” Everyday I get a little stronger, and a little more ready to face the next challenge. Everyday the strange and painful memory of my surgery fades a bit, and I am confident that in time all that will remain will be that feeling of love. Well, that and the memory of the other crazy lady in recovery.
Jennifer continues to recover from surgery and will begin the next step in her battle with cancer this month when she begins chemotherapy. There are several local events being held in the near future to support the fight against breast cancer. Komen Indy’s Pink Tie Ball will be held on February 20, more information is available at www.komenindy.org. The I.W.I.N. Foundation’s 6th Annual Pink Pajama Party is February 26-27, and more information about this event may be found at www.iwinfoundation.org.
