If you’ve ever had a moment in life where everything feels both terrifying and triumphant at the same time, you’ll understand what I mean when I say I woke up from surgery feeling like a total badass. My calendar literally said FU*K Cancer Day, and for a few hours, I felt like David after slaying Goliath.
I even have photos of myself giving a thumbs‑up to the camera ten seconds before passing out in my own bed. Maybe it was the drugs. Maybe it was relief. Maybe it was both. But the truth is, the six to eight weeks leading up to my breast surgery were some of the most mentally exhausting days of my life. I planned, prepped, and agonized over what to expect when expecting a mastectomy.
It was also the first — and let’s be honest, probably the only — time I got my holiday cards mailed out over Thanksgiving (USA holiday) weekend. Anxiety is a powerful motivator.
This post walks you through my breast surgery recovery day, the moments that made me laugh, the ones that made me cry, and the community support that carried me through.
Start reading about my cancer journey here – Choosing to Thrive Through Breast Cancer
Getting to the Hospital: Pre‑Surgery Jitters
Getting to the hospital early felt like the morning of a big trip — the pre‑travel jitters, the double alarms, the “did I forget something?” energy. I set an alarm. Then a backup alarm. Then relied on my husband’s alarm. Because if there was ever a day I didn’t want to oversleep, it was surgery day.
The night before, I showered with the surgical soap they gave me. Then again the morning of. And let me tell you: that soap does not play. Avoid your delicate areas unless you want a surprise wake‑up call.
Once checked in, everything moved fast. I changed into the gown, socks, hair cap, and climbed into the warm blanket‑covered bed. Nurses and doctors buzzed around me like a swarm of busy bees. Somewhere in the chaos, my husband appeared at my side, steady and trying to steady me too.
My body was poked, prodded, and even signed — yes, a doctor literally autographed my breast. Was this a mastectomy or a Bruce Springsteen concert? Hard to say.
The Anesthesia Angel
Then she walked in — the anesthesiologist nurse with warm eyes and a smile you could feel even through her mask.
“Hi Megan,” she said. “I’ve got an amazing cocktail for you. No hangover, guaranteed.”
Then she touched my arm and said, “From one breast cancer survivor to another, you’ll get through this.”
That’s when the compounding emotions – fear, frustration, worry – welled up and I began to cry. It felt like my future self had walked into the room to tell me I’d be okay. She guided me through breathing exercises and called herself “hippie‑dippie,” which honestly was exactly the vibe I needed.
“Are those my drugs?” I asked, pointing to her scrubs pocket.
Fifteen seconds later, I felt amazing.
Rolling Into the O.R.
My husband later told me he heard me “weeeeeee‑ing” as she rolled me down the hallway. Ms. Hippie Dippie was apparently driving like a bat out of hell. I was waving to people from bed as we passed like I was the queen of England on parade.
The O.R. was full of familiar half‑faces — the same people from pre‑op. They lifted me onto the operating table, and blackout came fast.
Surgery time.
Waking Up: The Comedy Show I Didn’t Know I Was In
When I woke up, my only thought was:
“Look cool. Look sober. Look awake. The sooner you look awake, the sooner you can see your husband and go home.”
I must have looked ridiculous.
My eyes were blurry, and I kept asking for eye drops. I rambled about Lasik surgery and dry eyes. The nurses gave me drops and, because I must have mentioned hunger, delivered saltines and ice chips like I was seated in first class.
It wasn’t until days later that I realized I was still very drugged. My eyeballs weren’t dry — they were confused.
Heading Home: Outpatient Mastectomy Magic
Once reunited with my husband, the nurses went over discharge instructions with him. Yes — here in Seattle, mastectomies are outpatient surgeries. Wild.
I woke up wearing a mastectomy bra and went home with a spare. I hadn’t bought one ahead of time because I didn’t know what size or shape I’d need. Turns out, I didn’t need more than the two they gave me.
Meanwhile, the nurses talked and talked while I nodded like a bobblehead. Until finally, my head drooped and I whispered to my husband, “You better be getting all this because I’m falling asleep.”
Settling In: The First Night of Breast Surgery Recovery
Getting home felt like summiting Everest. I had arrived. I crawled into my wedge pillow setup — torso elevated, big pillow under my knees, airplane pillow around my neck, blankets up to my chin.
Three hours later, my husband woke me for dinner and meds. He helped me to the bathroom, pulled my pants down, and lowered me onto the toilet. Newlywed bliss, right?
Then I moved to the sofa with a rolling medical table as my food tray. I ate dinner, gave a big thumbs‑up for the moms, and honestly felt great. Relief washed over me like a baptism.
No nausea thanks to the anti‑nausea patch. No overwhelming pain. Just… relief.
The Support That Carried Me
After dinner, I opened gifts from friends — coloring books, cozy socks, fluffy blankets, calming teas. I felt wrapped in love.
My husband reminded me I was loved more than I knew.
Food arrived every other day from friends and neighbors. The meal train was organized with so much care. And the best part wasn’t even the food — though the soups and stews were incredible.
It was the warm conversations. The check‑ins. The laughter. The reminders that I wasn’t alone.
Final Thoughts on Breast Surgery Recovery
Breast surgery recovery isn’t just physical. It’s emotional, spiritual, and deeply human. It’s fear and relief. It’s humor and heartbreak. It’s community and courage.
And when you finally get home, wrapped in blankets and love, you realize something powerful:
You did it. You’re doing it. And you’re stronger than you ever gave yourself credit for.
And on FU*K Cancer Day, I felt all of it.
If you want more stories like this, or you’re preparing for your own surgery, you can read more here:
Getting Ready for Your Breast Surgery – What actually helped me thrive through cancer
This ride isn’t over — come along for the next twist, turn, and triumph 👇
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