First of all; thank you. thank you, thank you for all the positive feedback from my first post. I've had messages, calls, and even people stopping me out and about, saying the kindest words. I greatly appreciate it and am very encouraged to continue to write. I feel if more stories like mine is shared, the more equipped people will be if they are ever faced with a similar situation.
Back to September, 2008.
I was admitted into the hospital on the 20th of September, but because of lack of beds in the hospital, it wasn't until around 5pm, so no biopsy was to be done that day. I also got the pleasure of going into one of those rooms with 3 other people as there were no private or semi-private available, and also was put on the wrong floor as there were no beds where I needed to be. At this point, I am scared out of my Jesus mind, got 3 other people and families gawking at me, and am having no procedure done. Awesome. I can remember telling mom, Karla, and Lee to go on home and come back in the morning, but they lingered around until visiting hours were over. When they did finally leave, I walked out in the hall with them and hugged them as they left. When I went back into my room and drew the curtain close for "privacy", there, I finally allowed the tears I had held back all day fall. I cried a lot that night, until I would finally fall asleep. This happened throughout the course of the night. Cry, sleep, be woken by a roommate/nurse/hospital bustle, repeat.
The next day I was scheduled to have a biopsy of my mass done. I didn't know what time, just that at some point I would be taken to have it done. I was also told that first night in emerge, that the biopsy would entail me being put to sleep (this put me at ease), a small incision would be made on my side and they would go in through there to collect a sample of the mass. Seemed simple enough but I was still nervous as hell. Their belief was the mass was in or around my lung, so being put to sleep was a bit of a comfort to me.
Mom, Karla, and Lee arrived in the morning. We sat around in the lounge of that floor, waiting to be called. Once again it was a day of waiting. I remember sitting, not really being able to follow the conversations around me as my nerves were getting the better of me. Lee offered me one of his ear buds to his ipod and he played U2- The sweetest thing (it's funny how you can remember such details in these situations and we sat and listened. It was easier than trying to talk. Eventually Lee had a class that I insisted on he go to, and Karla had a dentist appointment. We had no idea when (or if) I would be done that day so I told both to go. Not long after they left, a nurse came and told us someone was coming for me. Finally it was time.
Back in my room I was met by a man with a wheelchair. He informed me that he would be taking me to radiology. There, in my hospital room, at the age of 21 years old, I broke into tears and hugged my mom like a little girl. I could of probably stayed like forever but we were interrupted by one of my nosey roommates asking me where I was going and a "sure that's no big deal" to follow. It was much easier to go in the wheelchair after her helpful two cents.
I was brought down to radiology where a technician informs me of the procedure and explains it all. She tells me I am going to be having a CT guided biopsy and how they'll send me through the machine to get an image and locate my mass, and then they would enter a device that would collect a sample of the mass. All the while, she tapping her own chest when explaining the device going in. That is where I had to stop her. WTF happened to being put to sleep, going through my side, and everything I had been told?! She had no idea why I would of been told that. I would be awake for it and the needle would go through my chest (no worries though, there would be freezing given to the area). So you can imagine at this point my head is spinning. She then moves to getting me to sign a consent form after explaining the risks and all. The only risk I remember hearing is a possible punctured lung and I can remember how much my hand was shaking when signing.
This is now the point mom is to leave and wait outside. I wish I could say this is where I sucked it up and composed myself.....not so much. I lost it and I was shaking uncontrollably. I also knew mom was standing outside, alone and feeling helpless. I can't imagine that feeling. I was wishing so much that someone was with her. But realistically, if I was wishing for stuff, I probably would of wished to not be having needles go into my chest. So over onto the table of the cat scan machine I went. There, a male technician (who happens to be an uncle of childhood friend) is telling me to pull down my ever flattering johnny coat to expose my chest. In what I'm sure was suppose to be comforting to me, he explained he would cover me up as soon as he could. He probably thought I was embarrassed, but in actual fact I would of made him a deal to parade around the hospital topless in exchange of not having needles go into my chest. But as no such deal was made, they put freezing into my chest. Anyone who has had freezing for any reason knows the sting/burn that comes from it. Well my entire chest felt as though it was on fire. It was not pleasant, but it was necessary. They then sent me through the ct machine to get their first image, but my body was still shaking and the voice telling me to "remain still" wasn't causing it to stop. They gave me a dose of Ativan and finally my body relaxed enough to get a clear image. I think it would of been kind of them to give a few more doses so my mind could relax too, but I guess it doesn't work this way. It was finally time for the part that was causing all my anxiety. I turned my head so I couldn't see, and the male technician must of sense my fear, because he rubbed his hand over my head. I did feel comfort in this...or maybe that was the Ativan. They entered the needle in through my left breast and continued down into my mass. I was ever so thankful for freezing as I remember feeling pressure but I can't remember registering pain. Next, with the needle still in my chest, they sent me through the ct machine again to ensure they were in the right spot. Thankfully they were and they collected their sample and got out. I felt a bit foolish on how upset I had gotten as I didn't feel any pain, but the fear I was experiencing had been real. It's hard to convince your mind sometimes....I guess I should of listened to that nosey roommate.
Once I was clothed again they took me by wheelchair to get an x-ray to ensure my lung hadn't been punctured, or anything else they may have told me that I do not remember them saying. I then went back to my room to rest and let the freezing and Ativan wear off. Upon arriving to my room I was greeted with "nuttin to it, was it?" by the nosey neighbor. I see the comedic side of her part in this now, but I'm pretty sure I would of thrown something at her that day.
The freezing wearing off was probably the most unpleasant feeling of all this. I felt a lot of discomfort and pain. My chest and down my left arm had a lot of pain. I learned after that it's most likely a nerve was hit/damaged during the biopsy, and this is something I still have occur to this day. I can go months at a time and have no issues, and then other times it can be ongoing for long stretches. The only relief I find now when it acts up is having the weight of my arm lifted, so by putting it in a sling helps. If this is my only physical reminder to all that I went through, I'll gladly take it. That's what I tell myself when I feel like sawing off my arm when it does act up.
When a doctor came to see me later that day, I was told the sample they had was small but they were hoping they could use it for diagnosing me. It would take close on two weeks to get the results, and I were to remain in hospital. I did so for a few days, but as the only benefit this had was keeping a bed reserved, I was released the day before my 22nd birthday. I got to spend that out of hospital, and attend a few classes to clue in my professors as to what was happening. What I had thought was going to be the hard part was over, but in actual fact I learned waiting is way worse.
Thank you so much for continuing to read my story! I'm hoping to continue on a more regular bases. Sometimes it is hard to sit and write such detailed memories. But as long as it eventually gets written down and the possibility of helping others is there, I consider it a success. Please feel free to share! Thanks again
-K
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