And The Results Are.......

No cancer in the lymph nodes at all.  Even though it was tested and came back a grade 2 instead of what they thought was a grade 1, we kicked its arse people.  I am literally free of the beast.  My surgeon will be discussing this in depth with me on Wednesday about what treatment I have.  They are sitting on the fence at the moment as to whether I have chemo or not.   I feel very, very lucky as there are women out there who I know with not such a favourable result. Darren got a phone call on Thursday letting us know the results.  Some of you may already know that I have been away in Wellington Public Hospital since late Wednesday night but I am back home now with a story to tell.

Wednesday 9th December 2009
Started off a great day. Was feeling pretty good and starting to get my energy back, even managing to walk to the end of the street and back.  After lunch on Wednesday I started to feel unwell.  I had lit the fire because I couldn't seem to get warm.  Darren put me into bed for a sleep but I could feel the coldness creeping up my hands. My whole body started to feel cold so I got back up and went down stairs.  The next thing I knew I was in the loo getting rid of my lunch.  I felt absolutely ghastly so I went to bed and slept.  When I woke up I felt a bit better and Darren made me some toast. I ate that and kept on drinking water.  We rang my plastic surgeon who thought it could have been caused be being on the voltarin for too long and advised me to stop taking it and to keep an eye on me and if I am no better to ring him back. At about 8.30pm, things took a turn for the worse and up came the toast and the water.  I was dehydrating really fast, my stomach hurt, my heart was racing and when I laid back down on the bed the room began spinning. My breathing had also started to become shallow.  Darren rang the plastic surgeon who advised us to seek medical attention from our own GP.  We rang the after hours emergency doctor. We were told the on-call doctor was on their way. The time was 9.40pm.

By 10.10pm, no doctor had arrived. We were starting to worry because my breathing was becoming rapid. Darren rang the after hours number to see if the doctor was on his way.  He showed up finally at 10.30pm.
The doctor thought that I may have an infection or gastroenteritis and because we would not be able to get a script at that hour of the night he thought it best to ring an ambulance and get me into hospital. He rang my plastic surgeon who advised him that Boulcott Hospital had no room and that I would have to go to Wellington. With that, he proceeded to sit at our table to write a letter to the hospital.  I asked him how long the ambulance would take to arrive as I felt I needed oxygen. He said 10-15 mins but he would do his paper work before he rung them. ????? When his paperwork was done, he asked for a phone book to find the number to ring for an ambulance.  By this time both Darren and I were wondering if I was in capable hands.

The ambulance arrived in due course and they were wonderful.  They gave me something to stop the vomitting, hooked me up to some saline and gave me a bit of morphine for the pain.  That is strange thing in itself...it hits your head with a hell of a rush, starting from the neck up.  Darren followed us in, in the car. It must have been almost midnight by the time we got to A & E.   The staff there were pretty good, they put me on a stretcher bed in a room and carried on where the ambulance staff had left off.

Thursday 10th December 2009
 I was in A & E until 4 pm that afternoon where they took blood and did a chest X-ray. The registrar came to see me and said that the blood test showed up a high white cell count which meant that there may have been a bit of an infection. The doctor who had performed my mastectomy  happened to be at the hospital that morning. He came to see me and said that he didn't think that I had an infection but they would keep me in for a couple of days for observation. As the day wore on, my underarm began to swell and became very hot. The nurses there were great, they changed my dressings where the drains had started to leak and made sure that I had some lunch.

At 4pm I got moved up to a surgical ward when space became available. That is when it all started to go downhill.  To start with, they gave out dinner but missed me out.  I was absolutely starving so I had to ring the nurse and ask them please to bring me something to eat. They continued to administer pain relief, anti-biotics and saline. The doctor was due to come round about 8pm.  I heard him come in and then he went again.  I rang for the nurse and asked what was happening. She said that because some of my notes were missing, he wouldn't see me and had to rush off to a medical emergency but he would hand me over to the doctor who would be on ward rounds next.  At 10pm, a very young chinese doctor by the name of Stan called in and had a look at me.  He said he would get the registrar to come up shortly to take a look and they would decide what to do.  The registrar arrived about 11pm and he seemed to think that the lymphatic fluid was causing my underarm to swell and that they would drain it. I was concerned that all the fluid would ruin the skin expander. He said he and his team would see me in the morning.


Friday 11th December 2009
Well, 6 am arrived and I rang for some pain relief.  Half an hour went by and I had to ring again.  I was looking forward to seeing the doctor so at least I would start feeling better and would be able to go home. By now my drains were so full, they were ready to stop working.  I asked one of the nurses if she would please empty them.  She said she would organise it.   Two hours went by and nothing was done. I asked another nurse, if they could please empty my drains and she said not to worry as some women go home with the drains still in.  She had no idea why I was there. I think she thought I had had my mastectomy there and was waiting to go home.  I told her that I had already been home and had been admitted because of a possible infection.

The team of doctors start their rounds at 8 am so knew they weren't far away.  By lunchtime, no doctor had been to see me.  I asked the nurse when they would be here. She said they had been but I wasn't there, so they went.  I was furious.  I explained to her that I was in the toilet (which is in the 4 bed ward).  The daughter of the lady in the bed opposite me told the doctor where I was but they didn't bother to wait around. The nurse said she would page them and get them to come back.  By now I was getting really upset and started to cry.  I couldn't text Darren because my battery had gone flat.  I was sore, tired and just wanted to go home. I gave up waiting for the nurse to empty my drains, so I ended up going into the toilet and emptying them myself.  Later on, the nurse returned and asked me if I wanted her to do it but she said she wasn't sure how to do it because she had never worked with drains before.  I thought that was really odd, considering I was in a surgical ward. I told her I had ended up doing it myself before the liquid started flooding back into my body.

The daughter of the lady opposite me let me text Darren off her phone and he rang my plastic surgeon and told him what was going on.  They told him to bring me to their rooms and they would look after me.  Once Darren turned up, he was quite livid.  He asked the nurses what was going on and why I hadn't been seen. They immediately set to getting the registrar up to my ward.  It was now almost 4 pm.  Sixteen hours had gone by without me being looked at.  I gathered my things together and got dressed.  I asked the nurse to unlock my locker so that I could get my things. She did it without even asking why.  By this time the registrar had turned up.  I told them they shouldn't have bothered and that I was disgusted with the treatment and I was
discharging myself and going somewhere else to get the care I needed.  She didn't even batt an eyelid, just said ok. So that was that, I walked out, my line still in my arm for the medication and we drove to the plastic surgeons rooms.

When we arrived I just walked in and broke down in tears. I felt mentally and physically exhausted with what I had been through.  They put their arms around me and made Darren and I a lovely cup of tea and gave me something to eat (as I missed lunch).  They fixed up my drains, gave me some new painkillers and sent me on my way home, tired out but pleased that I was on the mend.  This experience has really knocked the stuffing out of me, particularly when I was doing so well. I feel worse than I did when I first came home. I will be making a formal complaint when I am stronger. My mum is coming over to stay this week with me to help me get back on my feet again and to give poor Darren, who has been simply amazing, a wee rest.