The biopsies, a story in 3 acts

To know more about my cancer, the oncologist ordered a first biopsy – a word I haven’t heard much, except in House M.D. or Grey’s Anatomy (guilty pleasures) – before our initial consultation.

Yet, due to its limited sample size, another one had to be scheduled later. And, as it required two interventions, here’s the 3-acts story of my biopsies.

Act 1: The lymph node needle biopsy

The first biopsy was done 3 days after the diagnosis, as a needle biopsy. It was very easy to handle: after taking some ultrasounds of the lymph node damaged by cancer, a needle was inserted near my clavicle to get some tissue sample. The sample was small, but big enough to let our oncologist understand the cancer type.

Act 2: The lymph node extraction

Due to my application for the clinical trial, a larger sample was required, and doctors decided to remove my lymph node for it. I entered the day-hospital on Monday 13th February for the intervention (remember that we agreed on the trial on the 7th and met the clinical trial team on the 10th). Unfortunately, the surgeon didn’t manage to extract it, as it would have been too dangerous and potentially life-threatening, which they didn’t see before opening and observing the node position. Better to be safe than sorry!

So, the next solution was to get samples from my lungs metastasis, and I left the hospital on Tuesday, with another surgery planned on Friday 17th. Besides a small scar on the neck near the clavicle, I left with 2 bruised hands – as my veins were hard to find for the anaesthesia – and I met a student nurse who was probably removing her first cannula.

How not to remove a cannula

Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against university hospitals, on the contrary. I completely support the way this works, and some blood and bruises are a small price to pay to let anyone know how to do their job, and eventually take care of patients for many decades.

Act 3: The left wedge resection

When I came to the hospital on Friday morning, the surgeon told me that he’ll do 3 small incisions on my chest (front, side and back) to enter a camera plus a small machine that would cut the lung on the metastasis sites. Thereafter, they will put a drain on my chest, and let me rest and recover for a few days at the hospital. I already knew it would be more serious than the previous extraction attempt.

About 30 minutes later, on the theatre and ready to be anaesthetized, I recalled this discussion and asked his team to try and not to cut my tattoo (I have huge Lego characters on my ribs). When I met the surgeon post-op, the first thing he said was “You see, we saved the tattoo”, with a big smile. This might sound like a small thing, but realising that the surgery didn’t impact this part of me for which I “worked for” (through hours under my tattooist needles) was a big deal for me and a small victory in itself. So thumbs up for the surgical team and their human approach, especially as it made the procedure more complex for them with 2 incisions instead of 3.

The best new though was that the surgery (a left wedge resection) was successful: 3 samples from my metastasis were taken and could be send to the trial eligibility process! I woke up with 4 lines in the arm, back, and hand (including an arterial line), a drain in the chest, and was moved to HDU after recovery, where my wife was waiting for me.

Definitely not convenient to move and sleep

The first night was quite though, as the drain was between 2 ribs, which made things painful when I breathed too deeply or tried to move. A nurse would told me later that I was so sensitive because my nerves and neurons were still young, and I’d probably have felt nothing if I was 80. She also informed me that the drain was about the size of a small garden hose, and asked if I wanted to see it. Thanks, but no thanks.

The doctor eventually removed the drain at 2PM on Saturday while we were talking about his polish trash metal band: some local anaesthesia, a big breath in, a big breath out while he pulled it sharply, and some suture right after. I was then moved to a standard ward, where they removed the remaining lines in the following days and gave me various drugs for pain, chest infection, and more.

As I’m finishing this post on Tuesday morning, I just been informed of the discharge and I’m now ready to go home! Hopefully, the kids won’t try to jump on me too soon 🙂