I am in such a fog of narcotics; if what I write in this post doesn't make much sense, please don't hold it against me. Also, thank god for narcotics. They almost make daytime television bearable.
My surgery on Friday went exceptionally well, I'm told. They initially removed three lymph nodes based on where the radioactive dye traveled, and then another that appeared to be full of scar tissue (indicating cancer had probably been there as well). Good news: upon initial inspection during surgery, all four nodes were cancer-free.
Back to the pain. I'm so thrilled the surgery went well, because I'm not sure I could mentally bear this amount of prolonged discomfort otherwise. It's like I did 1,000 push-ups and then - for good measure - got punched in the sternum. I'm nestled into a cocoon of pillows on the couch, and as long as I'm on a steady stream of vicodin and valium... What was I saying?
Oh, and more good news tonight: my surgeon called to tell me that the full pathology report - which looks at all the breast tissue they removed - was COMPLETELY CANCER-FREE.
"You steam-rolled right over this disease," she told me.
It's like getting an A+ on the most important report card of my life. (That's a big deal for overachievers like me). So yeah, the pain's totally worth it.