Yesterday I went under the knife - lovely expression - and it went well, all in all better than I feared.

On Wednesday I had a small injection of radioactive stuff (isotope Technetium-99m, half-life 24h). Unfortunately, that didn’t give me any super powers. The isotope was meant to highlight to the surgeon which lymph node is downstream from the breast and needs to be extracted.

Then yesterday morning I got up at an ungodly hour, and my husband and I set off for the hospital (my parents taking care of Alice).

I had to be there early, despite the actual surgery taking place in the afternoon, because I needed an extra mini procedure: since the tumor has pretty much disappeared, they needed to install a wire towards the metal clip they’d implanted to guide the surgeon towards the right location.

Then started a journey of going through at least four departments of the hospital, with long white corridors to be walked through. Formalities first: consent, checking that I’m in a good shape to be operated on (weighing, blood pressure etc) and going down a checklist of questions.

Then to the Breast Unit to get the wire implanted: using a mammogram to locate said clip, and computer-assisted implantation of a metal wire after local anesthetic. It was actually quite impressive to watch, almost enough to forget the squashed boob sensations. Afterwards the wire got carefully taped to my chest to avoid me ripping it out by accident, and I got a fetching hospital gown to go.

I got to talk to my surgeon, a friendly if slightly patronizing woman, a nurse who gave me more practical details, and a fast-talking and way too cheerful anesthesist.

Then we went back to the Pre-op department, where we waited for about three or four hours. Which felt like a long time on an empty stomach, the complete lack of caffeine in my body, and Smooth Radio wittering on in the background. I’d felt stressed before, but those hours were enough to make me want to just get it over with.

Then finally time to prep - a friendly nurse (everyone was friendly, really) gave me even sexier anti-clogging socks to go with the hospital gown.

Joe got asked to wait, and I went to a different yellow room containing the anesthesist and a nurse. I was asked to lie down on a stretcher, and thought fully provided with a warm blanket (electric?) to avoid cooling down during the op. The anesthesist repeatedly attempted to insert a canula in my arm (ow), and I swallowed a painkiller. An oxygen mask was put over my face, and the last thing I remember is the air vent above my head going a bit fuzzy.

I woke up feeling like I’d just had a nap, and I felt reasonably clear-headed. Once they’d ascertained I was good, I got rolled back to a room where other post-op people were waiting to be let go.

Props to the anesthesist: I had been promised something like a hangover, but I felt fine. At that point I was pretty keen to go home. I read a book, ate a sandwich and went to the loo, thus convincing the nurse I was A-OK and keeping me there for the full four hours was a waste of everyone’s time. I felt bad for the young woman next to me who clearly was having a much harder time, not to mention much higher levels of pain.

All going well I’ll have two scars, one under the arm and one discreetly right under the breast. So far the pain is minimal, a bit like the pulling of a cut when I move my left arm, but nothing dramatic.

Now it’s healing time, and waiting for the lab results to come back on my lymph node. Hopefully the analysis will be say it’s clear - that the cancer decided to stay put in its little growth bomb instead of wandering off into my lymphatic system. I’d somehow edited from my mind that there was this extra test, making a lot of difference. One thing at a time I guess.