Surgery day

The morning had arrived and I was standing alone with only the surgeon, mostly naked with simply a gown hanging off the back of my body. She took her big, black marker and began to draw lines around each breast. She squeezed each one to get the measurements correct. Then she drew lines down to my abdomen and began drawing long lines across from hip to hip. I exhaled heavily, telling myself, I can do this, I have to do it. I thought about Dylan, my sons and then Bowie drifted into my mind with his message from last night.

“Hey, I know all of this is hard. And I know you know that I know how it feels to do all of those tests with all of this stuff looming in the future and what that holds and what’s going to happen. I get it. And I know what it’s like to live with that, so I know how you’re feeling, at least in some ways. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you to help, but know, I will be there with you, thinking about you and I’m here when you need to talk about anything.” 

I had already sent many of my “In case I croak letters” and one to Bowie.

The letter

Dear Bowie,

Disclaimer: This is an in case I croak letter, which feels both dramatic and extremely on par for me. I wish the timing were better. I wish the circumstances were less inconvenient… me. But here we are.

I want you to know this, simply, clearly, without weight attached:

I love you. You know I do. Loving you has been one of the great, strange, beautiful experiences of my life.

We were a series of plot twists. A love story that never followed rules, timing or reason, and somehow that made it even more ours. Punk Rock Princess and Garage Band King: An iconic match, don’t ya think? I wouldn’t trade a single second of it.

[The remainder of this letter will be shared in Book 3. Some words are simply too personal to shorten.]

The surgeon interrupted my thoughts, “Do you need to use the washroom?”

“No, I’m okay.” I stared up at the flourescent lights and tuning out the hustling and shuffling of medical staff around me.

“You’re going to be fine. You’re in good hands. Dr. Ordin and I will be with you in the beginning and then I will take over the rest of the surgery.” I nodded and smiled. “They will roll you back in a few minutes.”

“Thanks,” I said. I could hear others prepping for their surgeries. There had to have been twenty plus beds. We were all in there for a variety of reasons. The lady next to me was going in to have a GI band removed and was on her phone with her husband laughing and treating it like it was another work day. My phone buzzed.

It was a message from Bowie with a photo of him wearing our matching bracelets for good luck, “Sending all of the good stuff and strength I got your way. Love you!!!” 

I held his message close as the nurse came in to roll me to the operating room.  I peeked down my gown again once more at my breasts knowing the one I had lived with for 49 years was going to be gone in just an hour. It felt unreal. I was losing a breast, nipple and areola. Then they had planned a reconstruction taking tissue and vessels from my abdomen.

Over eight hours later, I was in recovery and could feel the burning around my abdomen. This was not unlike when I had my hysterectomy. I was bandaged all around my pelvis and I could see what looked like a small bandage to a new belly button. I hadn’t even thought about my old belly button needing to be taken. There were two drains hanging off either hip filled with clear reddish liquid and another hanging from my left breast or what was my newly reconstructed breast. I wasn’t able to see any of the work yet. Part of me wasn’t ready to see how my body had changed and I knew my life was never going to be the same again. 

Thoughts ran through my head, how would I feel seeing my body now? What man would want to have this body? Who would be attracted to this? And finally, did they get all of the cancer and what if it comes back? Heavy thoughts for someone just waking up in recovery, but I couldn’t help it seeing my body covered in bandages and my legs being pumped for circulation. I knew some of the thoughts could be considered irrational to many, but they were real and carried an unknown fear lurking in my thoughts.

“The patient is awake,” the recovery nurse boasted energetically. 

“Yeh, she is,” I mumbled.

“You were there for over eight hours, lady. The surgery went really well, how you feelin’?” Eight hours. That’s long. I still felt groggy and wondered if Dylan had made it back to the room.
“You got lucky. I heard they put you into a private room. We will be taking you up there in a few minutes, hold tight.” She rested her hand on my shoulder and smiled, then checked my vitals.

An hour later, I was wheeled to my room. I could see some of the city and neighborhood lights out of my window. Dylan had stayed and walked over fourteen miles to keep his mind busy as he was worrying, but I knew he had to get to his show and told him to go and I would see him in a bit.

My voice was shaking and weak. I wanted to at least send a message to Bowie letting him know I got out of recovery. I held my phone in front of me and tried to find the recording button. My finger trembled finding the record button. It reminded me of when Bowie had finally reached me 6 days after his surgery and had to fumble to find the app we text in while his fingers would barely bend. It wasn’t easy. 

“Hey, I don’t know if you can hear this. My voice is really quiet. I just got into the room. A private room so that is really nice. I have a view on the 7th floor. Anyways, they are going to check me throughout the night every half an hour to see if the vessels will work but I just wanted to touch base. Thank you Bowie, for the bracelets and good vibes. Love you.”

Then he sent me a voice message almost immediately back. His voice was quiet and soft like mine.

“Hi, I did not expect to hear your voice, so I’m very happy right now. I still have the bracelets on and was like, I’m going to wear them until I hear from you. I’m so happy you are able to even leave a voicemail and use the phone, certainly something I couldn't do after my surgery for several days. Um, I’m so happy you are where you are. I’m so happy, it sounds like everything went well. I will look forward to hearing how things proceed. Happy to hear your voice so I thought I would have you hear mine. Thinking about you and again, happy that everything went well. I hope you can get some sleep. I know how the nurse thing goes and you may not get much sleep. Anyways, hope you can get rest and I love you and I’ll talk to you soon.”