Hello everyone, I thought I would relate my experience briefly while it is fresh in my mind in case it helps anyone. I realise I was thoroughly depressed in the weeks after diagnosis, and before treatment started, although you ladies on here have been an enormous help in lifting my spirits off the floor. But they soon puddled down there again, and I realised it was a question of gritting my teeth and just getting through the days. Finally 14 March arrived and I got myself to hospital by 7.30am as required.
The surgeon told me that only 10 to 15% of intermediate DCIS develops into anything serious, but the protocol is to take it all out with a margin as there is a risk. I was happy with that. She was far more upbeat than the guy who freaked me out during the original diagnosis.
It soon transpired though that I needed a wire in my breast to guide the surgeon, which had not been done due to some kind of new government policy needing it to be done in my local hospital. Too complicated for my fuddled brain to understand.
I was dreading that they were going to cancel the op as a result, but no, the lovely surgeon sent me off in a taxi to another hospital to have it done. The taxi waited for me, and I went back looking like a sputnik with my own aerial. Then the waiting went on. I developed a crashing migraine type headache from dehydration, to which I am very prone, and finally they let me lie down although I had been sleeping in a chair in the waiting area - no doubt dribbling and snoring and adding to the amusement of the assembled company.
Thank goodness for mobile phones being allowed these days, as my friends kept me amused too and I had some fluffy literature to fill the vacant spaces in my mind.
Finally went for surgery around 7pm. Such a relief really to be knocked out. Woke in a rather wobbly state, with my brother holding my hand and kindness all around. No pain in the breast and I had a quick feel to find plenty of substance still there. They decided to keep me in as I was not really ok at all.
This brought back unfortunate memories of having my 3rd child, when I was discharged 2 hours later against my will (I had had a complex induced birth and was in a terrible state) and my stupid careless ex failed completely to insist I stayed in over night, or to protect me in any way from this very wrong decision. Found myself sick and miserable, fumbling with a car seat at 1am in a freezing January carpark. So this time I burst into relieved tears all over my brother, and was so grateful I didn’t have to repeat that experience this time.
Walking completely beyond me so they wheeled me along to the ward. I thought they had parked me in a sort of corridor, and I was checked every hour. I woke up with the headache crashing away at 4am, and tried to buzz for some painkillers. Unfortunately my buzzer wasn’t plugged in properly, but luckily the residual meds in my system knocked me out til morning.
When I woke up, I was in a side ward with en suite shower. Astonishing levels of comfort (the hospital is brand new). They gave me paracetamol for the headache but again no real pain in the breast at all. I had a look at it, and most of it is still there. I am sure a little silicone chicken fillet will make up the deficit. I was very wobbly indeed, and felt very sick. So they gave me a sickness jab, and I felt better. Discharged into my brother’s care at 11.30 and wobbled off to the carpark and home. Spent a day dozing off the anaesthetic. Woke this morning with my spirits greatly lifted. Now there is another ten days of waiting for histology results and next steps, but mainly the depression has dispersed and I feel able to write and chat and generally be normal again for a while.
I just wanted to let anyone know who is facing this particular thing. Other things are very different of course. Good luck to everyone and much empathy.