I'm back, did you miss me?

To all my faithful prayer warriors out there, I thank God for you a thousand times over. I can't believe it has only been 48 hours since my surgery, and even crazier to me that it has only been 2 weeks from today that I got my cancer diagnosis. I wanted to take a few minutes to share with you all about some "God sightings" I have had in the last few days as I go through this journey.

I have had 2 c-sections (one under general anesthesia, one with a a spinal). So I had experienced anesthesia and its nasty side effects in the past. I was least looking forward to the constant vomiting that comes as soon as you wake up from surgery. The first person I spoke to the morning of the surgery was the anethesiologist and I shared with her my concerns. She promised me that she had 4 different meds to combat nausea and instead of using one or two, she would give me all 4. I fully expected to wake up from my surgery with a vomit or two, but in 48 hours and counting I have not thrown up once. This is a big deal for me, because I personally find the nausea much harder to deal with the the pain. Also, the last thing my chest needed after being torn apart, was frequent heaving. This is a huge praise for me, thanks God.

The morning of my surgery I was anxious, to say the least. My dear sister, Lara, woke up and came to the hospital to pray with Jeff and I. My kindred spirit, Pamela, called me on my way the hospital to pray with us. This was the first time I allowed myself to even think about the surgery itself. I had been so focused on the cancer and its repercussions, that I hadn't really thought about the surgery itself. I realized it was going to suck, but that I was going to be OK. I said goodbye to Jeff and Lara in the pre-op area and the wheeled me into the presurgery "holding" area. This area was a surreal place. It is a giant room with people "parked" in spaces all waiting for their respective surgeons to come and wheel them into their respective room. The only thing separating all of us was curtains, but most of them weren't closed at all. Of a room of about 15 patients, there was only one other person in the room even close to my age. She and my eyes met and we smiled. I don't know what her surgery was, but I have a distinct feeling she was feeling the same way I was at that moment. The anethesiologist came and spoke to me. Then the surgical nurse came and spoke to me. I remember her because her name was Charlotte and we had a discussion about the remake of "Charlotte's Web". Last, my surgeon Dr. Williams came in. He briefly explained to me what his part of th surgery was going to entail. He also explained to me about the sentinal node biopsy, where the inject dye into my tumor and track where it goes. I had assumed that you didn't want to it go anywhere, but he explained that we wanted to see it go to at least a few nodes, otherwise we would have to remove dozens of them to attempt a roulette game in figuring out where or how the cancer could have spread. He said, "in a perfect world you will have more than zero, but less than 4." In my world I had 2. He asked if he could pray over me, "um, heck yah!" and Charlotte joined in with excitement. I realized that I was going to be surrounded in brothers and sisters in Christ in my surgery. My last prayer was that God would cut out the fear in my hear along with the cancer. That was the last thing I remember.

I woke up in the recovery room in complete peace. For those of you who have ever had surgery you know that this in itself is a miracle. You are disoriented, groggy, in pain and general freaked out. When I woke up from my first C-section, Jeff was in the room with me and he said I was a mess. I cried, I was disoriented I was speaking gibberish, and I was throwing up. None of that with this surgery. Now here's the major God part, I knew the cancer was gone. None of the nurses that were caring for me were in my surgery, so none of them knew the status of my tumor or nodes. I didn't need to know, God gave me THAT peace. You know the mythical one that he talks about in scripture, the one that "transcends all understanding", yep that's the one. I don't remember another moment in my life having ever experienced THE peace the he describes, but I know he was there with me that day. I really do feel like he cut out the fear with my tumor, it is almost unbelievable had I not experienced it.

When Jeff saw me as they wheeled me into my room he said I was beaming, smiling and laughing. He assumed they had told me the good news of my surgery. It had been an hour and a half since my surgery, and I still didn't know. After a few minutes of talking, he shared with me about the 2 nodes and the fact that the doctor didn't see the tumor. He was shocked that I was in such a good mood even though I was in lots of pain and didn't know the good news.

Nowadays when you have surgery they usually give you this little morphine button to self-control your own pain meds. I have learned from my c-sections that believe it or not, the less you press the button, the better. Morphine makes me feel sick and for me the pain is easier than the yuck feeling, so I opted for very little pain meds while I was in the hospital. I was given the options of vicatin, percaset or tylenol with codeine. I opted for the least, tylenol. My surgeon thought I was nuts, but it has the least side affects and I have had the best results with it from previous use. I am very glad even as I write this, that I made that decision.

My night "sleeping" in the hospital was necessary, but difficult. I had these boots on all night that compress your feel all night at frequent intervals to prevent blood clotting. I also had on the world's worst thigh high pantyhose (same purpose). In addition to all this fun, I had to sleep with my head elevated and every hour they came in to my room to take my temp, blood pressure and empty my drains (more on the fun of drains later). I also had the pleasure of having someone monitor and measure my hourly urination. (Yah, I know, your jealous, why does Kat get all the fun?) I overheard an older man in the hallway saying, "now I know why they call it the 'rest home' because at least there they let me sleep." There were some people who were shocked to hear I wanted to leave the hospital after 24 hours, but I would not have any sleep had I stayed there any longer.

I had wonderful nurses and doctors. Let me say as a side note, if you ever have to spend time in the hospital just remember that the nurses have a job to serve you, but they also have a heart. I have learned that you respect your caretakers and they will respect you. I went above and beyond to be kind. Not because I think I am better than anyone, but because I know you don't want to bite the hand that feeds you, or in this case, the hand that sticks a needle in you. A special thanks goes out to Ken, a special nurse who searched the hospital at midnight for me to find two containers of chocolate ice cream. Ken, you are my hero.

We left the hospital and went straight to the plastic surgeons office. This was a big deal, because this would be the first time Jeff and I saw what remains of my chest. I know this should have been a much bigger deal. I know I should be mourning the loss of "my girls" (the surgeon's words, not mine) but the fact is, I'm over it. Bring on the silicone implants. I think part of it is exhaustion mixed with raw pain, but I also know that it is the reality that what I see on my chest right now is not the end product. It is not, "I have breasts, therefore I am." (thank God for that) I will not have to plow through life with dozens of staples lined up across my chest (for the record staples are uglier than stitches, you can't help but feel like frankenstein). I also have these four tubes running out from my sides that drain excess fluid into these egg shaped clear bulbs. It is gross, but not as bad as I thought, because a lot of it is blue since it is draining the leftover blue dye from my biopsy. After checking out the damage done, they wrapped me back up, gave Jeff fun instructions on how to care for me and "my drains" and sent us on our way. Today we went back and had 2 drains removed. I have 2 left for the weekend fun.

As of this moment, I am tired, stiff, but overall feeling well, all things considered. I feel a lot like I did in high school when I use to lift weights for softball. Every couple weeks the trainer would add weight to our bench press and we would feel sore and stiff for a few days after. That is very similar to how I feel now. I am anxious to get the last drains out (Tuesday) and staples (next week) because I can't sleep on my side with them (they dig in too much).

Our next big milestone will be receiving the full pathology report on both breasts and the 2 nodes. Our prayer is that there is no cancer in the nodes and "clear margins" on the tumor. This means that the tumor has a specifically defined edge and no "spider like" legs reaching out anywhere. This means in is contained to the tissue removed and much less likely to have spread anywhere.

That is all for tonight. I will update you with more tomorrow. To all of you who have sent goodies and meals to fill my stomach and soul, I am deeply thankful. (Rachel your comfort food box hit the nail on the head). Love, Kat