Ma mõtlen seda päris tõsiselt, kui ütlen oma uutele tissidele “Tere!”, sest no tegin küll palju nalja, et sooviks Pamelaid – ja Pamelad ma sain. Doktor Gerardo (plastikakirurg) rääkis, et mu vasaku ära lõigatud rinna raskus oli 300 grammi, aga nüüd on mul selle pisikese ükssarviku asemel kaks 800 grammist rinda. Kusjuures, vasaku rinna nibu õnnestus neil säilitada, seega saan end jätkuvalt uhkusega ükssarvikuks nimetada.

Operatsiooni päeval jõudsin ma haiglasse pool seitse. Nähes kirurgia vastuvõtus nii palju inimesi, sain aru, et olin teinud õige otsuse, sest sisse registreerimine võttis omajagu aega. Mõned minutid pärast seitset kutsuti mind teise inimesena esimesse ettevalmistusruumi, kus vahetasin riided, pandi kanüül (mis lõpuks ei toiminud ja selle asemel laiutab suur sinikas).

Kell 7:41 kärutati mind opisaali ees olevasse ooteruumi, kus käis juba suur sagimine. Nägin, kuidas opisaali, kus toimus minu opp, veeti kastide viisi tavaari, hunnikus aparaate ja muud. Lõpuks kärutati mind sisse. Kõik kolm kirurgi käisid mulle tere ütlemas, operatsiooni õed tutvustasid end ja esimeste hulgas hakkasid minuga kohe tegutsema kaks anestesioloogi.

“Kui sa magama oled jäänud, siis me paigaldame sulle veel mõned kanüülid – muuhulgas kaks selga,” jutustas üks anestesioloog. “Aa, et ma olen siis nagu Keanu Reeves “Matrixis”,” üritasin nalja teha. “Jaa, aga lepime selle kokku, et sina ei hakka endalt ise voolikuid küljest kiskuma,” muigas anestesioloog. Lubasin, et ei tee seda. Ühel hetkel ärgates sain aru, et kanüüle on mu kehas ikka veel vähemalt kaks – kaelas ja käes. Hiljem selgus, et mõlemad olid arteriaalsed kanüülid ja mu keha külge põhimõtteliselt kinni õmmeldud. Kokku lugesin kätelt 13 paike kus oli olnud, või kuhu oli üritatud kanüüli paigaldada. Muu keha osas mul ülevaade puudub peale kaelas olnu, mida tundsin ja selja omade, mille osas arst mind teavitas.

Enne opi algust tõmmati mulle jalga mingid massaaživarrukad, mis olid jube mõnusad. Otsa ette pandi mingid andurid “Sellega me saame mõõta su une sügavust,” selgitas anestesioloog. “Paneme sulle nüüd hapnikumaski ja sina hinga ikka nii nagu hingad, me lihtsalt valmistame su kopse ette,” seletas teine. “Sa jääd varsti uniseks ja magama,” ütles esimene. “Ei, ei, ma ei ole unine,” mõtlesin omaette…..

“Tere, Hetlin…..” magasin edasi. “Tere, kullake, sinu operatsioon sai läbi,” kostus kuskilt. Avasin silmad ja olin täielikus segaduses. Mul hakkas nii külm. Värisesin külmast, see oli ainuke asi, mida ma tundsin. Üritasin aru saada, kus ma olen. Ma ei saanud mitte midagi aru. Doktor Gerardo seisis mu kõrval ja ütles, et operatsioon läks hästi. Oli natuke keeruline ja pikk, aga läks hästi. Ma ei suutnud aru saada, kas kell oli 11 õhtul või 1 öösel, numbrid seinakellal olid lihtsalt nii udused.

Ärkasin valu ja mingi sagimise peale, mis minu ümber toimus.. “Mul on valus” suutsin kuidagi öelda. “See kaob kohe, me manustasime sulle valuvaigisteid ja kohe saad ka morfiini” ütles hääl paremal. “Vett,” oli järgmine sõna mille suutsin kõrbekuiva suud avades kuuldavale lasta. Õde tupsutas märja svammiga mu huuli.

Ärkasin hommikul mõnusalt soojas voodis, kuhu terve öö oli soojapuhur voolikust õhku pumbanud. Soojus oli ainus tunne, mis oli hästi. Muus osas oli tunne nagu oleksin jäänud rongi alla. Kõht, pea, käed, selg… kõik valutas. Tundsin kuskilt kaugelt, kuidas aevastus hakkab ligi hiilima. See oli tol hetkel kõige hirmutavam tunne maailmas. Kui see aevastus tuli, siis läbis mu keha selline valusööst, et oleks tahtnud karjuda.

Samas olin nii abitu, et ei suutnud ise ennast üldse liigutada. Ka pea keeramine tundus võrdväärne Kilimanjaro vtippu jõudmisega. Nii väike asi tundus just täpselt nii suure pingutuse ja tööna. Proovisin vaikselt sõrmi kokku panna – võimatu. Ühel hetkel käsi nähes sain aru, miks see on võimatu, ma olin lihtsalt nii paistes. Käed nägid välja umbes nagu iga sõrm oleks juba omaette Marshmallow Man Ghostbustersist. “Oi, ei, see saab nüüd küll lõbus olema,” mõtlesin omaette.

Hiljem sain teada, et operatsioon kestis kokku veidi üle kümne tunni – opetarsiooni algusajaks märgiti mõni minuti pärast kella 10 hommikul ja David sai kirurgilt kõne pärast kella 22 õhtul. Kui sinna juurde arvestada veel sellele eelnenud protseduurid ja muu sagimine, siis võttis see kõik tubli 12 tundi.

Abitu olin veel päevi. Täna, kolmapäeval, pea nädal pärast oppi jaksan iseseisvalt paar tundi istuda, vetsu minna, huvitun juba suhtlemisest, olen näinud perekonda, mõnda sõpra. Selle taastumise esimese nädala sisse on jäänud tagasilöök, mis väljendus palavikus ja väga kehvas enesetundes (kui see saab sellisel juhul veel hullem olla), isutus (mida toitumisspetsialist üritas erinevate võtetega minema peletada), rõõmustav aga ka hirmutav kakalkäik (jaa, see on väga suur teema pärast sellist, tegelikult igasugust, operatsiooni) ja palju muid haiglaseiklusi.

Koju jõudes kirjutan teile sellest, kuidas möödusid mu neli päeva intensiivis.

ENG

I really do mean it when I say hello to my new boobs, because, well, I joked quite a lot about wanting Pamela Anderson-style boobs – and Pamelas are exactly what I got. Dr Gerardo, my plastic surgeon, told me that my removed left breast weighed 300 grams, whereas now, instead of that tiny little unicorn, I have two 800-gram breasts. And as it happens, they managed to preserve my left nipple, so I can proudly continue calling myself a unicorn.

On the day of the surgery, I arrived at the hospital at 6:30 a.m. Seeing so many people at the surgical admissions desk made me realise I had made the right decision, because checking in took quite a while. A few minutes after seven, I was called in as the second patient to the first preparation room, where I changed into hospital clothes and had an IV cannula inserted (which eventually stopped working and left me with a rather impressive bruise instead).

At 7:41 a.m., I was wheeled into the waiting area outside the operating rooms, where things were already pretty hectic. I watched as boxes upon boxes of equipment, piles of machines and all sorts of other stuff were wheeled into the operating room where my surgery was going to take place. Eventually, I was wheeled inside.

All three surgeons came over to say hello, the operating nurses introduced themselves, and among the first to get to work on me were two anaesthetists.

“Once you’re asleep, we’ll put in a few more lines – including two in your back,” one of the anaesthetists explained.

“Oh, so I’ll basically be like Keanu Reeves in The Matrix,” I joked. “Yes, but let’s make one thing clear: you are not going to start pulling any of those tubes out yourself,” the anaesthetist smiled. I promised I wouldn’t.

At some point, when I woke up, I realised I still had at least two cannulas in my body – one in my neck and one in my arm. It turned out later that both were arterial lines and had basically been stitched into my body. I counted 13 spots on my arms where cannulas had either been inserted or attempts had been made to insert them. As for the rest of my body, I have no idea, apart from the one in my neck, which I could feel, and the ones in my back, which the doctor had told me about.

Before the surgery began, they put some sort of compression massage sleeves on my legs. They felt absolutely amazing. They also placed some sensors on my forehead. “These will allow us to measure how deeply you’re asleep,” the anaesthetist explained.

“Now we’re going to put an oxygen mask on you. Just keep breathing as you normally do; we’re simply preparing your lungs,” another one explained. “You’ll start feeling drowsy and fall asleep soon,” the first one said.

“No, no, I’m not sleepy,” I thought to myself…

“Hello, Hetlin…” I slept on. “Hello, sweetheart. Your surgery is over,” I heard someone say.

I opened my eyes, completely confused. I was so incredibly cold. I was shivering, and that was the only thing I could feel. I tried to figure out where I was. I couldn’t make sense of anything. Dr Gerardo was standing next to me and told me that the operation had gone well. It had been a little complicated and lengthy, but everything had gone well. I couldn’t work out whether it was 11 p.m. or 1 a.m. The numbers on the wall clock were simply too blurry to make out.

I woke up again because of the pain and all the commotion happening around me. “I’m in pain,” I somehow managed to say. “It will go away soon. We’ve given you painkillers, and you’ll be getting morphine shortly,” a voice on my right replied.

“Water.” That was the next word I managed to get out as I opened my mouth, which felt like the Sahara Desert. A nurse gently dabbed my lips with a wet sponge.

I woke up in the morning in a wonderfully warm bed, where a warming machine had been pumping hot air through a hose all night. Warmth was the only thing that felt good. Everything else felt as though I’d been hit by a train. My stomach, head, arms, back… everything hurt.

Somewhere in the distance, I could feel a sneeze slowly approaching. At that moment, it was the most terrifying feeling in the world. When the sneeze finally came, a wave of pain shot through my entire body, and I felt like screaming.

At the same time, I was so helpless that I couldn’t move myself at all. Even turning my head felt like climbing to the top of Kilimanjaro. Such a tiny movement required an amount of effort and work that seemed completely ridiculous.

I tried to gently bring my fingers together – impossible. At some point, when I looked at my hand, I understood why. I was simply so swollen. My hands looked as though every single finger had turned into its own little Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters.

“Oh, dear. This is going to be fun,” I thought to myself.

I later found out that the operation had lasted just over ten hours in total. The recorded start time was a few minutes after 10 a.m., and David received a call from the surgeon sometime after 10 p.m. Add to that all the procedures and preparations beforehand, and the whole thing took a good twelve hours.

I remained helpless for days.

Today, Wednesday, almost a week after the surgery, I can manage to sit up independently for a couple of hours, walk to the bathroom, and I’m starting to feel interested in socialising again. I’ve seen my family and a few friends.

The first week of recovery has included a setback in the form of a fever and feeling absolutely dreadful (although I’m not sure how much worse it could possibly get at this point), a complete lack of appetite (which the dietitian tried to tackle using all sorts of tricks), a bowel movement that was both a reason to celebrate and a rather terrifying experience (yes, this is a HUGE deal after an operation like this – actually, after pretty much any operation), and plenty of other hospital adventures.

Once I’m home, I’ll write to you about what my four days in intensive care were like.