Читать книгу A Lighter Side to Cancer: From Wake-up Call to Radiant Wellness - Sandra Miniere - Страница 13

Before the surgery, I asked my female surgeon to request a female operating team. I wanted the sacrifice of my left breast to be a women's ritual. It felt like a private female thing. When I received a telephone call the evening before surgery from a male anesthesiologist, I was upset. While I was not rude to him, the conversation lasted two minutes. I told him not to over medicate me, and I would see him in the morning. The disappointment hit. I felt weighed down because my ritual was not being honored by the “powers that be.”

I reminded myself: “You believe in the divine right order of things, so you really need to let this negative attitude go.” I had to get past my sense of dread. The inner turmoil lasted a few hours, and I finally fell asleep surrendering to the inevitable. When I met the anesthesiologist the next morning in his funny green shower cap, he seemed quite harmless. He was tall, blonde and had bulging muscles on his thin frame. I liked him in spite of myself. He appeared centered and calm like someone who meditated as well as lifted weights. He exuded confidence. I gave him a slight smile, as a truce offering between us. He passed the test of a painless IV insertion.

My female team took another hit when a short, dark-haired, body-builder type man walked over to introduce himself and offer his assistance as my surgical nurse. I was too preoccupied with staying positive to have an emotional reaction to him. I did not have the time or luxury to get tense and upset. I wanted the energy to stay high and positive so the surgery would be flawless. (I believe that our attitude affects outcomes.) My job was to remain centered and calm while I waited to go under my surgeon's knife. The nurse appeared gentle in spite of his strong masculine appearance, and he spoke to me with genuine concern. Instead of females, I attracted two muscular men who were gentle and caring. I began to get the picture. I was in the best of hands regardless of the demise of my ritual. I got what I needed, instead of what I wanted.

I did manage to become slightly agitated when Paul could not find the healing mantra tape I wanted to hear before being wheeled into surgery. I quickly settled on my second choice—Triple Mantra, designed to eliminate negativity and prevent accidents. As I began listening to the trance inducing sounds, my body relaxed. I was able to transcend the voices, smells, and activity in the room. Within five minutes of focusing inward my surgeon showed up. She was all smiles and positive about the surgery. She looked like a little happy pixie, so I am thinking, “How bad could this be?” I reminded her not to take too many lymph nodes because I was going to do something systemic to heal my body. My plan was to treat my body as though the lymph nodes were positive no matter what they actually found. Plus, I had heard horror stories of women suffering without their lymph nodes, and I did not want to become one of them. It was time to go. It all seemed so rushed. I forgot to tell her to keep my breasts small with the two implants she would be inserting. I just wanted to look normal, not buxom.

Soon after she left, the anesthesiologist came over to me and injected medicine for nausea into the IV bag. I didn't have much time to dwell on what was about to happen to me. When I got a farewell kiss from Paul, I thought, “The next time he kisses me I would have a different body.” With my headphones on, the Walkman lying next to my body and listening to the chant, I was wheeled away from the curtained stall. Before we reached the end of the room, I was unconscious.