Donna in Hollywoodland

Pre-Operation Stuff

One of the nurses arrives with a guy pushing a wheel chair. A Transport Guy.
They put a blanket over the wheel chair. I sit in it only wearing my backless hospital gown. They tuck me in with another blanket over me.
We start to leave, and I say to the Transport Guy : "Got my Chart ?"
No... he left it in the room.
He runs back to retrieve it.

And then he wheels me out the front hospital door, across the dirty street, to the Breast Center.
Hmmm... so they want me to be sanitary for the operation. Even though my feet are not touching the ground, how sanitary can it be to be wearing the gown I will be operated on out here in the city street.
Oh, well ...

We make it to the Breast Center. They have a few things to do to me first.
I go into the Biopsy room that I have been in so many times before.

First, because they are going to remove "Questionable Material" from my right breast ... and its not a tumor of any sort ... they have to get the mammogram film, and place a needle in my right breast.
Yes, when we were done, there was a needle sticking out of my right breast. It had a little plastic top on it.
It has something to do with the doctor being able to find the "Questionable Material" - since its not a tumor, she needs to know what to take out.

Second, they have to inject dye into the tumor in my left breast. This is for the Sentinel Node Biopsy.
So they can see if the tumor is draining into any lymph nodes, and then they can check only those lymph nodes.
A different doctor came over from the hospital, and he was training the Breast Center Doctor on how to do this.
My main question was if it was going to sting or burn. And no, I didn't feel anything when they injected the dye into the tumor, just the pinch of the needle.

By this time, my hypoglycemia is acting up because I haven't eaten. Add to that needles in my body.
I was getting alittle woozy.
Then they tell me I have to have a mammogram done of the right side, where the needle was.
By this point, I am thinking "Whatever."

I head over to the Mammogram room across the hall. Yes, they take the right breast that has a needle in it, and they squish it under the mammogram trays. Alittle flat, not to flat, the technician is trying to be gentle with me because there is a needle in my breast.

The mammogram machine is fussy. Its beeps. The technician tells me I moved.
Well, how could I not have ? There is a needle in my breast and its being slightly smooshed.

We try it two more times. I am extra strong, and really concentrate on not moving.
The poor technician is getting more upset then I am.

I think the mammogram machine was just seeing the needle in my breast, and thinking there was something on the tray that shouldn't be there.

The technician tells me we are going to another Mammogram machine.
We walk down the hall, and this new mammogram machine gets the picture on the first try.

They tuck me back into my wheelchair with all my blankets. A new Transportation Guy comes to get me.
First thing I say - again - as we roll away "Got my chart ?"
Nope.

He turns me around, we go back to the Biopsy room, and tuck my chart firmly in the back of the wheelchair.
Then he rolls me back across the street to the hospital.

First stop, is my favorite place - The Radiology Department. Gee, I spend alot of time there lately.
The plan was to take a picture of the tumor with the dye in it.
I am laying on a table ready to be moved through the CT scanning machine.
Hey, its the Guy with the Vein Jokes, and the Nice Lady Tech. I say "I remember you both - you did my Bone Scan."
We greet eachother like long lost friends.

Then there is a phone call. "They want her in Surgery Now."
Someone says "We haven't taken the Scan."
Someone else says "The Doctor doesn't want it."

So I get off the table, back into my wheelchair.
A third Transportation Guy comes by to get me.
And guess what happens ? Yeah, thats right... I know you figured it out ....
I say "Do you have my chart ?" for the third time.
And - Nope - for the third time we have to go back and get my chart.

This would be really funny, if it wasn't the hospital and they weren't about to cut me open.