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Visitors' Stories -- Maxine's Story (page 2)DAY ONE - THE OPERATION Thursday 18 January 1996 After months of waiting and uncertainty the day of reckoning was finally upon me. I didn't know whether to welcome it with open arms or run from it as fast as I could! I got up with the alarm at 8.30am and went straight under a hot shower. I relished the water washing away that sticky, smelly iodine lotion and lingered as the hot water gushed through my hair. How long would it be before I could have a shower or bath again?! I felt a moment of sadness too, as I looked at my two little breasts that had served me so well for the past 34 years - I hoped I was doing the right thing. Shortly after arriving at the private hospital in London, Paul (my partner) and I were escorted to what was to be my living accommodation for the next 24 hours. It was a small room with an ensuite bathroom. It contained a fully adjustable bed, a colour television, a telephone and a handy but huge remote control for the television and lighting. The first visitor was a nurse who had come to take my blood, something that, ideally, should be done two weeks before the operation. Then my blood pressure was checked and my temperature taken. I was asked to provide a urine specimen and leave it in the bathroom. I was also asked to unpack my new 34C sports bra - this would be fitted by the nurses at some point after the operation. The nurse left telling me to get changed into my gown at 1.30pm - the surgeon was due at 2.00pm. It was an hour later at 2.30pm before anyone came again - this time it was the anaesthetist. Shortly afterwards the surgeon arrived to mark the relevant black lines around my breasts and to take his 'before' pictures. He used a black felt tip pen and drew a black outline around each breast and then marked off where he was to put the incision on each. He finished off by writing the date and my initials on my stomach! It was 3.00pm when they came to get me - my heart dropped and then started beating ten to the dozen. I got myself up off my bed and onto the trolley they had wheeled into my room. Then the bars were lifted up to prevent me falling out. I took a backward glance as I was wheeled out of the room and managed to mouth goodbye to my dear Paul. As I was wheeled along the corridors the tears started to flow - this was the moment I had been dreading and I was scared. Then it was bright lights, lots of people, things being stuck on my back; the anaesthetist asking me questions. It was hectic and I had trouble concentrating on what I wanted to say although I can remember being adamant that I was going to finish each sentence. I can remember starting to feel all faint and saying something like "I can feel myself going now"......... According to Paul it was 5.30pm when I was brought back to my room. Although I knew Paul was there, I couldn't say anything to him, I just kept falling in and out of consciousness. When I started to get my thoughts into some kind of order I looked down at my chest. There were these two huge pointed lumps. Very swollen and very heavy on my chest. From what I could see they seemed a strange shape but I couldn't really move to see them very well. It felt very heavy and sore and I was unable to move very far in any direction. My memories of the rest of that evening are a bit of a blur. I can remember that my door was constantly being knocked and people were coming in and out - nurses, catering staff and, at one point, the anaesthetist. I seem to recall him insisting that I move my legs and feet and continue to take my antibiotics. I must have gone to sleep around 10pm that evening - it had all been a bit much, I was sore and felt very strange and was pleased to switch off the television and turn out the lights for the night.
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