Chapter Eleven. Then.
I can see roses in front of my hedge with doctors pinned on their petal ledges and nurses too and you and love and 'alive' scribbled not far above. - Gilda Radner (from Gilda's Poem)
I slept exactly one hour and fourteen minutes.
I tried to go back to sleep for exactly 46 minutes before I finally gave in to the fact that I wasn't going to get any more sleep before my surgery.
I was nervous and scared, and I allowed myself to give in to those feelings. It's nice to be optimistic and happy and not think about tomorrow, but it's not realistic. Life isn't all puppies and rainbows and unicorns. It's also cancer and surgery and fearing tomorrow and the future. I couldn't help thinking that night might be the last normal night I would spend for a while if things didn't go as planned. I kept myself busy with my IPOD, the internet and chatting with a couple of night owl friends. I took a shower, gave myself a facial and polished my nails. Why not look good for what was going to be a defining moment in my life, I thought. I didn't cry or fall apart. I kept myself together by taking it hour by hour, minute by minute. I was expected to have a good outcome, and I knew I was being horribly dramatic, but I couldn't stop myself. I walked around my room, touching my treasured mementos and photos from the past and thinking about all the wonderful moments in my life. I took one last look at myself in the mirror just to remember who I was in case I returned a different person before I took a deep breath as I opened the door to face my future - and popped a Valium. My surgeon was more than happy to give me Valium to take the edge off if it was necessary, and I definitely needed it. I was being ridiculous. I couldn't go out and face my parents acting like I was going to my execution. If those moments were indeed my last moments of normalcy, that was not the way I wanted to spend them. Enjoying a nice, relaxing buzz was so much better.
When we walked into the waiting room, there they were - the Cullens, Angela, and my cancer ladies. They said they came to wish me well, to remind me I was loved, and to keep my parents company while I was in surgery. It was so unexpected, and I was so touched. I hugged and kissed them all and was high enough from that lovely Valium to kiss Edward's lips instead of his cheek. It was just about the nicest thing I'd felt in eight years.
A nurse came to get me about ten minutes later. When I went through the door and took the first steps into my new reality of surgery and cancer treatment, it was like entering another world compared to the quiet and peace of the waiting room. It was bright, crowded, busy and intense.
She took me to a small private room, had me change into a hospital gown, and did all her nurse things like putting in the IV and checking my blood pressure. I laid back, listening to my IPOD, and just took everything in. I thought about how much I loved the warm blankets they covered me with. I thought about kissing Edward. I thought about how much I hated needles. I was enjoying my Valium high and was very calm until the nurse came over with a marker and asked me what side the tumor was on. I was appalled. "You don't know what side you're operating on," I asked as I put together my plan to escape from the hospital. She laughed and told me they knew as she put an 'x' on my left breast. They just wanted to make sure I knew and that everyone was on the same page, she said. In other words, they wanted to make sure they didn't operate on the wrong breast. I found it hard to believe they would, but I guess it happens.
An aide came in with a wheelchair to transport me to the Breast Center to mark the tumor. They went in through the biopsy incision and didn't give me any shots to numb me. According to the doctor, I wouldn't feel anything. Of course, he was wrong. I guess I didn't think about how they would put the dye in me, but even if I did, I wouldn't have thought of a needle. Maybe a paint brush or something, but not a needle. He had to put the dye in a circle around the tumor, and that meant a lot of shots. It was unbelievably painful, and it taught me a good lesson - make sure you are drugged into oblivion before you let them do anything to you, especially when a doctor says, "This shouldn't hurt."!
My family and friends were allowed to come in to see me a few at a time for a couple of minutes. The surgeon came in while Edward was with me and mouthed "Wow!" to me behind his back and made me laugh. I just loved that woman. It was hard to say goodbye to him when he had to leave. I grabbed his hand, tears clouding my eyes, and turned my face away as he sat on the side of my bed.
"Hey. Bella. Look at me," he said softly.
He turned my face toward him and wiped my tears.
"It's going to be alright. You know that, don't you?"
I put my arm around his neck and whispered in his ear so no one else would hear me.
"I'm scared. I've never been so scared."
He pulled me into his arms.
"Shhh... it's almost over. We're all here for you. I'm here for you. We'll deal with whatever comes. You're not alone, Bella. You don't have to do this alone."
I broke down. Everyone walked out of the room and left me with Edward as he held me while I cried.
After a few minutes, I calmed down and gave him a small smile.
"Whew. I think I've been holding that in all day."
"Do you feel better now?"
"Yes, I do. Thank you for being here for me, Edward. Just having you to hold on to makes me feel better."
I laughed and added, "Honestly, I really don't know how I've gotten through all these years without you."
He hugged me and kissed me on the top of my head. He whispered, very softly, and I knew I wasn't meant to hear it, but I did.
"It's always been you, Bella. It's always been you."
"I have to go, but I'll be here when you get out of surgery. I'll be waiting for you, Bella. Always."
He kissed me then - a tender kiss on the lips. I told myself it was the drugs when I pulled him to me and gave him one more.
The anesthesiologist came in to introduce herself and give me the acupuncture treatment. She put a few very, very thin needles in my left wrist and arm and some sort of seed in the folds of my ears. Watching Charlie's face while she did that was priceless and almost worth having the damn surgery.
I was surprised as the nurse wheeled me to surgery, and I realized I wasn't scared anymore. I was just ready, so ready, to get it all over with.
The operating room wasn't anything like the operating rooms on TV. There was no soft lighting, music, or handsome doctors and beautiful nurses dancing to Elvis or Aerosmith. It was bright and cold and full of equipment. I was transferred to another table and hooked up to monitoring equipment. Everyone was there, looking down at me, ready to get on with it, as the anesthesiologist put the mask on me and told me to count backwards from ten.
Ten... nine...
My eyes flew open.
I was disoriented and thought I was still in the operating room until I looked around and realized I was in the recovery room.
It was over.
There were about eight beds in the room. Some patients were sleeping, some were trying to wake up, and a couple were throwing up. Not me, though. They weren't kidding about the effects of that acupuncture treatment. I was wide awake and didn't feel sick or dizzy. I was ready to jump out of bed, and go home. I put my hand on my breast to make sure it was still there and felt a small bandage. I was relieved – it felt like the same old breast to me. I looked around for a nurse. I wanted - no, I needed - a Pepsi and something to eat. She brought me a couple of slices of toast and the coldest can of Pepsi I'd ever had that turned out to be the most wonderful thing I've ever tasted. I would never forget the deliciousness of drinking that Pepsi down.
A few minutes later, my surgeon came in. She gave me a huge hug, and I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
"Bella, the surgery went well, and we were able to remove the entire malignancy. Your lymph nodes were clear, and the cancer didn't spread."
I couldn't speak. Before my surgery, I thought about what I would do if that was my outcome. Maybe scream, yell, and cheer in joy and jubilation? The actual moment was so much different than I expected. It was overwhelming. The cancer didn't spread. With those four words, I had a future again, just like that, and it took me a few minutes to absorb the reality of it.
The nurse disconnected the IV line so I could use the restroom and change. When I turned around to flush the toilet, I looked, and then looked again. I stood there and stared into the toilet. The water in the toilet was bright blue. Not pale blue, not just a little blue, but almost neon blue. I opened the door a crack and called the nurse over.
"Hi there. Umm, I'm peeing blue. Bright neon blue."
"Honey, didn't they tell you? That's from the dye they used to mark the tumor. It will go away in a week or two."
"Alright, that's ok," I thought. "I can handle this. No big deal."
When I took off the hospital gown and looked at my breast, I almost laughed. I cursed fate for fucking with me again.
My nipple and part of my breast was blue. Bright blue.
I opened the door and called her over again.
"Let me guess... you have a blue breast. It's the dye, Bella. It's very normal."
Why she didn't tell me about that blue breast thing after I peed blue was beyond me. Why the surgeon didn't tell me also was beyond me.
I felt better, though, knowing it was the dye until I remembered dye was permanent. The nurse saw my face and smiled.
"I know what you're thinking. Don't worry... it's not permanent. It should be gone in a month or so."
An hour later, my cancer-free blue breast and I left the hospital and went home to flowers and balloons and the rest of my life.
My recovery went well. I was uncomfortable and tired for a week or so, but it wasn't terrible.
I came to terms with my cancer in that week. I wasn't sad, I wasn't angry, and I didn't feel sorry for myself. Anyone could get cancer. I wasn't unlucky, getting cancer so young - I was one of the fortunate ones. They found my cancer early, and it was almost 100% treatable. I knew it could have been worse, so much worse. I thought about people like Angela and kids, little kids, who were fighting for their lives at that very moment, going through far worse than what I did, and realized how incredibly blessed I was.
The doctor called me with my pathology results. It was good news. I had Stage 1 -2 invasive ductal breast cancer and wouldn't have to think about a mastectomy. She also told me was going to send the tumor out for a genetic test that predicted the probability of reoccurrence.
The best part of life after cancer was watching my parents. They looked ten years younger and acted like teenagers. They were happier, lighter, and downright goofy. One morning, I even caught my dad grabbing my mom's ass in the kitchen which was kind of gross and sweet all at the same time. Charlie talked more - well, for Charlie, anyway - and Renee talked less and actually listened to him. They laughed and giggled and seemed to appreciate the very things in each other that brought them to divorce. I thought it was because the huge weight of cancer was lifted from them, but I realized later I was maybe half right, if that. I talked them into going home and getting back to their lives until I had radiation treatment. When it was time for them to leave, they told me Renee was going back to Forks with Charlie. They had things to discuss, they said.
I cried, just as I cried months later when I watched them remarry on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.
Thank you for reading! xoxoxo
