August 20th. The day I went into my first major cancer surgery. The day I entered a cancer hospital to stay for more than a doctor's appointment or scan. Another day that changed my life forever.
Five years ago...
It had been a crazy-fast week and a half. I was on the medication to help with my Stage I Uterine Cancer but the PET Scan had identified something small and unknown on my left kidney. After meeting Dr. D., my new-found urology oncologist, I had another scan. This time it was a CT scan of just my abdomen and specifically my kidney with the spot. Frustratingly, all that scan told us was that the spot needed to be removed. Dr. D. explained that the "mass" was definitely a tumor of some sort but that it did not appear to be problematic right now. It was far away from the ureters of the kidney (i.e., the plumbing from kidney to bladder) and it was tiny. He did say that 90% of all tumors on the kidney are actual kidney cancer but that, not to worry, kidney cancer is extremely slow growing and like 95% curable with surgery. He did not seem concerned at all about this spot and even told me that I could wait a year before having the surgery to remove it. Now, all this sounded great. I mean, another cancer, but a "good" one that is curable. All I need is surgery and it's fixed. Hooray. But...and it was a big but...he could not tell me what the hell that little spot actually was. We had a lot of statistics on our side about "most kidney tumors" but I wasn't going to gamble on what happens to "most people." Clearly, I'm not in that category. So, I pushed the issue. I told Dr. D. that I had already arranged my professional and personal life around a major surgery (i.e., a hysterectomy) that was not going to happen right now. I was also very hopeful that this medication would work and in a year I would have a new baby in my arms. So, a year from now was not that convenient for me to have a major kidney surgery. Dr. D. was awesome and worked with me and within days I was scheduled for a partial nephrectomy (fancy!).
Dr. D. then put the fear of everything holy in me about how awful this surgery was going to be. It was going to be a huge cut. It was going to be highly invasive. Kidneys are very difficult to get to and he was going to hurt me very badly. He kept repeating this over and over. Awesome. Then he said something that made me utterly freak. He was going to saw off one of my ribs to get to the kidney. Ummmm...WHAT? Like permanently?? Apparently, the way this surgery is typically performed, the surgeon removes (i.e., goes to Home Depot to purchase a hacksaw and saws off) a "floating rib" from your ribcage so he can have easier access to the kidney. I started to freak out. Like uncontrollably. I don't know why but I was suddenly very much in love and absolutely needed my rib. I started to shake and cry and started stuttering things like "are you sure you have to?" and "isn't there another way?" and "ugh" in progressively higher and more frantic tones. Basically, I was freaking out as much as I did about cancer in the first place. Over a rib. Over a rib that was only halfway attached to my ribcage anyway (thus why it is called a "floating rib"). Over a rib that, until 10 seconds ago, I didn't even know I had. But, it was the rib that broke the camel's back. I'd had it. And I wanted my f-ing rib.
Somewhere during my escalating insanity, Dr. D. broke in and told me that I could sign up for a clinical trial to try and keep my rib. He explained that they were testing to see if allowing a patient to keep their rib reduced their recovery pain after this type of surgery. I couldn't sign on the dotted line fast enough. I begged and pleaded to be put in the "rib group." I wanted my rib. It didn't have cancer. It never failed me. It deserved to live. I was going to lose a lot of body parts before this was all said and done, please for the love of everything holy let me keep my damned rib! Dr. D. patiently explained that I now had a 50/50 chance of keeping my precious, wonderfully meaningful rib because I had agreed to the clinical trial. He even went so far to say that the only reason he even told me about the rib removal horror was because there was a clinical trial possibility. So, people of the interwebs take a good, long look at your next surgeon and demand to know all the body parts s/he will be removing. Because they might not even tell you. They might just take. And you, like me, could lose a rib for no good reason.
If I am being perfectly honest, the days leading up to my surgery were all about my rib. I was a woman obsessed. I thought about it. I dreamed about it. I talked about it. I cried about it. I freaked out about it. I googled it. If you knew me during that time, I apologize for annoying the hell out of you...but seriously, it was just too much. I needed that rib.
Two days before surgery, I was called by a lovely nurse to do a phone intake and give me surgery prep instruction. She was somewhat amazed that I had just had a surgery with full anesthesia a month before. She made the comment that they like to space surgeries out more but that I was "young and healthy" so I should be fine. Awesome. I felt really young and healthy, you know, having a CANCER surgery and all. Anyway, she went on to give me all the details about my surgery, when to check in, when to stop eating and drinking, and how important sleep was before the surgery itself. Ha! I asked about my rib. I begged her to slip me into the rib group. She claimed she had no knowledge of such a rib removal event. Ugh. Then she gave me her oncological nursing blessing and pronounced me ready for surgery.
The day of the surgery is a blur. It was scheduled for really early in the morning. Like me and my rib had to be there at 5:30am or some such horrible hour. The boyfriend was calm and awesome. He held my hand and was soothing and promised me he would ask the doctor about my rib status right after surgery. I walked into Huntsman and proceeded to shed my dignity and climb into one of those horrible hospital robes and get poked and prodded with IVs and monitors and questions. I asked everyone who came in contact with me about my rib. No one had any answers. The doctor came in and explained that he was "going to hurt [me] today" but that everything would be fine. He smiled when I asked about my rib. I took that as a good sign that I was in the rib group. Please don't let me be in the no-rib group I begged him as he walked out the door. Then I started to be scared of the surgery itself. I was going under and they were basically going to cut me in half! The boyfriend hugged me and consoled me and I tried to remember to breathe. Then I was stripped of my glasses (which essentially leaves me blind) and I was wheeled into the darkness.
I still had this overarching sense of hope. I knew things were going to be okay. This medication was going to work and I was going to have a baby. Whatever they pulled off my kidney was going to be nothing. And I was going to keep my rib.
And that, Little Bear, is the story of my first cancer surgery...and my rib.
Til next time...Always and Ever After.
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