A Year ago tonight, I came back
It's 9:45pm on Saturday August 29th, 2026 as I write this blog. One year ago, it was Friday August 29th, 2025. This time last year my sister had just sent a text 10 minutes earlier telling my closest friends and family that I was out of surgery and would be coming up to my room shortly. I was wheeled into an OR at 4:15pm that night for an emergency mastectomy. The hospital knew I was coming three days earlier and my surgeon was on call that weekend as the emergency surgeon. How they managed to schedule a surgery while he was on call as an emergency , I'll never know. It hadn't been done before. Likely won't be done for a long time again I'm sure (and hope). Mastectomies, while scary are almost never considered or done as "emergencies". My surgeon had never performed one under "emergency" protocol. I knew 3 days prior that I was going in, but when I signed my consents, the initial consent form indicated I was there for a debridement - my skin was dying and necrotic and it needed to come off. That's how they got me into the "emergency". In the OR with my surgeon, I had to resign all my consents once he put the actual surgical plan into place. A debridement, right breast mastectomy and lymph node removal at his discretion.
I remember waiting all day for an OR to open up with my mom and sister - the clock never moved slower. I had checked in at the hospital at 8:00am with no indication of when surgery would happen. I wasn't even the least bit nervous. Looking back I find that super fascinating. Maybe because I was over the whole ordeal, maybe because I intuitively knew I was going to be okay, maybe I was disassociating a bit too. I don't know but I wasn't at all nervous. I just wanted to be on the other side of it and get to healing. Just after 3pm my best friend messaged in the group wondering what was going on. We joked about my wait being a good ol country song. We settled for a moment on the "My Milkshake brings all the boys to the yard" song and I changed it to "My Surgery brings Dr. Lesniak to the OR" and what felt like 10 minutes later ( was likely closer to 45) the nurses came in and said "we're ready for you - let's go". That song def brought my surgeon to the "yard" haha. I ran to the bathroom - because I knew I couldn't pee for a long time once I was gone into surgery and gave both my mom and sister a hug and down to the OR we went.
I've blogged a good chunk of this time in my previous two blogs. I joked with the Anesthesiologist about how weird their job was. He gave me a pill "to calm my nerves" and for the potential nausea and we talked about how they discovered the medicines required to knock people out for a long period of time. How weird. Where do people go when this happens? I mean physically they are there but consciously, it's weird no? He agreed and said the OG docs would practice on each other. Can you imagine?
So many people report about weird experiences when being under - it's not anything I want to do ever again really but it definitely tickled my brain then and still does. We are physically there, our bodies being cut, poked, prodded and we feel and know nothing of that time. How?
My surgeon then spent some time with me, talking about what may or may not happen. How he didn't really know what was going to shake down, he prepped me for the worst outcome - obviously, death but also that I could wake up with a wound vac on, I would potentially require a second surgery. He said he was going to do everything he could for the best outcome. I believed him. It was only the 2nd time I had seen him and 3rd time I had spoken with him. But I believed him and I knew I was in the best hands I could possibly ever imagine. Comical because two or so weeks prior I was so mad at him I could spit.
But I had no nervousness. No jitters. I was the calmest I had been in a long time. There was this peace that had washed over me, I didn't realize it as much then as I do now, but the calm I sensed wasn't of this world, at all.
They wheeled me into the OR shortly after, I made a few cracks about how it looks nothing like it does on TV and the team laughed. They put my binder on the bed I'd shuffle over to and I thanked them for choosing the frilly one for me. My doctor said they do a bit of a roll call, I had to tell everyone who I was and why I was there - I did and then the Sleepy doc and his crew came by and said they were going to give me some gas to relax me. I smiled. I knew this was go time and I was gonna be sleeping in no time. He warned me the IV would sting and that in 20 seconds or less I'd drift off. I took a few deep breathes - as I did I started praying, and then I heard them say "Have a good sleep" and that was it.
When I woke up, it was 5 hours later. I should have been in surgery 2 hours but things didn't go to plan. My pectoral muscle had to come out, the tumor was now 16cm and buried deep into my muscle and 18 lymph nodes looked questionable and I lost almost 2 litres of blood in the process and almost had a transfusion - they had called up for blood but by the time it came to the OR I "magically" or "miraculously" stabilized. No one could explain why or how.
I remember being woken up and looking at a monitor above me with my name. It felt strange. And I kept hearing my name, it took me minute to realize someone was saying my name and it wasn't just me seeing it on the screen, and then I realized I needed to respond but I was HOT. Like hot tamale hot. I asked if I had a wound vac. Nope. I asked for Ice. Yes, I could have ice but wasn't allowed to choke. Did I have a fever?, the nurses kept asking. I wasn't hot. I was cold to the touch, I could feel that, but I was hot. Like pull me out of a volcano hot. I needed my surgical socks off. I needed the blankets off. I needed ice. Why was I so hot? The nurses were scrambling and I could hear them say "well she lost a lot of blood, maybe that's what's going on" and then they would reassure me I wasn't hot and that I was okay. I wasn't worried but I was annoyed. This heat was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before (or after for that matter).
No one could tell me what was going on. My vitals all said I was fine. I had no fever. I was cold to touch. By all accounts I wasn't hot. But I assure you, I was melting.
I think and know now, the reason I was hot was because I was coming back into my body. The frequency of that was smoking hot. I'm sure there is a medical reason for it but I knew it was weird. I had been under anesthesia before and never had this reaction.
When they finally decided to move me back to my room they told the orderly to run down the halls with me. It was almost 10 pm. I couldn't believe I didn't have a wound vac, I couldn't believe I had been in surgery 5 hours. And I was hot so she ran and then I told her not so fast...I was woozy!
When I got up to the room, I remember seeing my roommate sitting there watching me come in. I remember seeing my mom and sister and telling them I was hot. Not sexy hot, not menopausal hot. Like HOT and I wanted pineapple. To this day, I can eat pineapple like it's going out of style - I couldn't wait to eat pineapple so I asked my mom and sister to bring me some in the morning. There was blood in my hair, my sister tried to help cool me down. It felt so chaotic and spastic. It was like I was re-calibrating. I know coming out of anesthesia can be a lot for many but this just felt different. I was super alert, but felt like I was floating. I didn't feel grounded at all. I didn't know how to explain it. I had no idea what was happening. Once everything settled, I could feel the density of my body again. I tried to sleep. That wasn't happening so I sucked on 15+ cups of ice all night in between telling every nurse I didn't want any pain meds at all.
The rest of the experience is on the other two blogs. What I didn't talk about then or really ever in detail is the slow resonance that would creep into my body once I was home. The respect I had for my surgeon was unlike anything I've ever experienced. To say I was grateful for him felt like a disservice. Maybe it's because I came close to death - sometimes people appreciate things more?
And so as I healed, I'd be sitting at home, quietly and I'd get these flashbacks. Memories of sorts, a knowing. I can't explain it, it was never a visual memory, it was a knowing. Something in the pit of my stomach where I'd remember having a conversation with my surgeon while I was out.
How is this possible? Well, it's not. Not in our physical realm. But our conversation wasn't like it was before going into surgery. He was still working on me when we chatted. People were around us, I was loosing blood and he said to me "what are we doing? Am I going to fix this or are we done?". These words would echo in my mind for weeks. Where did they come from? Was I remembering something that happened? Did I hear him talk to someone in the OR during surgery. Or was that a conversation we actually had?
I'd try so hard to remember. Visualize. I could never really see or remember. But I knew. I don't know how to put this into words and it's taken me a whole year to finally sit down and try. Every now and again I'd get these hits, pings of emotion, a feeling. We spoke during my surgery and I had made a deal with him.
Now, to understand this and believe this part of the story, you likely need to believe in the power of higher selves, you have to believe we are spiritual beings having a human experience. That we are souls, in complicated meat suits. You'd have to believe that once we're out of these meat suites, our spirit is able to communicate with other spirits. And some of these other spirits, we agreed to run into as humans. To learn, to grow, to experience.
There were so many things that went "wrong", so many times that I could have landed with any other surgeon but for some reason, in this chaos I landed with the surgeon I had. I don't believe in coincidences, things happen for a reason and I wondered, did the surgeon and I have a soul contract? Was this what this was?
I knew that life as I knew it post surgery would never be the same for me. I had to make radical changes and I've never been good at making them. I try things and rarely does it stick - especially on the snack front. I loved food that doesn't love us. I was a night owl, I lived and thought I thrived in high stress. But leading up to the surgery in a desperate attempt to stay alive, I pivoted hard. Post surgery, that felt a lot more intense. I felt like I was being chased.
Chased in a good way. Maybe guided is the right word. Maybe directed is a better word. But why and how did this happen.
I'd be out doing my morning walks and these memories of resonance would hit me. My doctor and I had an intense conversation. I had lost a good amount of blood and they were calling for blood bags to do a transfusion. I was told the next morning by his surgical team that "they had no idea how it happened but all of a sudden I stabilized" - that my surgeon had knocked it out of the park and did an incredible job. They were shocked. Everyone was shocked. Less than 12 hours after surgery I was lifting my arm behind my head (something that shouldn't be easy to do). I was up walking. I took ZERO pain meds (with the exception of the cocktail in the anesthesia). My blood pressure was at times so low they couldn't understand how I was up and walking. I giggled about this in hospital but weeks after it would perplex me too. How was this possible?
I've done a LOT of reading and research on near death experiences. I did not have one. I never did flatline or "die", not that I was aware of. But I did lose a ridiculous amount of blood and I stabilized when I should not have. Two days later I would need that transfusion. So what stabilized me in the OR? Divine intervention for sure. But I also at the spirtual level decided that moment I wanted to stay here. Of that, I am more certain than I am that the sky is blue.
I've come to understand what I experienced is called a Near Death Adjacent experience. Or, an NDA.
A near death adjacent experience is very similar to a NDE except the risk of death is not evident. Instead of dying, I danced in the adjacent, the shadows, the inbetween.
Over the weeks I was healing, I'd talk to a few close friends about this experience and try to flush it out. One friend in particular had no doubt what I experienced was an NDA and she asked me if I had spoken with my surgeon or was it someone else while I was out. Was I sure it was my surgeons spirit/soul pick your name for it? Or was it a different spirit? Was it God?
I told her, it was 100% my surgeon. So let me explain because many people who have NDA or NDE's will tell you they see a bright beautiful light, they met or saw God/Jesus or someone significant, they had life reviews or flashbacks, they would see their family members who had passed. I remember none of that.
I was asked if I could explain what I felt. Because my intuition has never been visual - I have always just had "knowings". So I tapped into what I felt.
And I would explain it like this: We were in the OR, I could see me lying there, the entire surgical team around me, looking panicked. My surgeon and I, cool as cucumbers, engaged in a calm conversation, almost like time had stopped. I felt amazing. I know I was wearing a black flowy outfit - it felt very ethereal, it was like it was made just for me. My surgeon was working on me but he was also talking to me. He asked me what I wanted to do. He said I had to decide if I was leaving. If I was, he would let me go. We had agreed to meet at this intersection before and we had agreed he would be the one to fix me if at the time I chose to stay. Or he would let me go.
I know how insane this sounds. It's one of the reasons I've struggled to write it down for so long. But tonight, on my "birthday" post surgery, I just kept getting the ping to try and get it written.
I knew my surgeon. I knew his intentions, I knew his heart in that moment dealing with me and I trusted that whatever decision I was going to make, it was mine and he would help usher me through it.
I remember feeling like this wall behind us was full of "beings", angels. I could tell the energy of them were family and friends. People who I had loved that were no longer earth side. They were holding up the wings of the OR, they too were in black, I couldn't make them out at all but I knew they were there to escort me should my decision to leave was made. And even though were were all in black, there was nothing ominous about any of it. It felt light, it was comforting. I knew I was safe either way.
I had decided to ask AI to help me with the image. I knew the sensation of what I looked like, what the room looked like, what the wall of beings surrounding the room (They were angels) looked like and I asked it to draw it up for me and this is what I got. And I cried. This picture in many ways is exactly the feeling I had. I wish I had words. I really do.
I had agreed to a few things. I needed to let as much go as I could. I needed to stress less, worry less, I needed to keep walking and making movement part of my life. I needed to keep up the "better" eating. I needed to enjoy flowers and nature more and not take anyone in my life for granted. I needed to bring some of the shadows in my life to the light, I needed to pray more often, I agreed to make praying the rosary a habit, I needed to make some major changes in multiple areas and I needed to stay away from any post surgery treatments - it was agreed that if I chose to do treatments, I'd be back in that spot fast again. I knew I didn't need the treatments, and I knew they would harm me. Did my surgeon experience any of this like me? No, of course not, he's a science guy and having a conversation with someone like this where I ask "so....when I was out cold do you remember talking to me and giving me a decision to come back or not" would send me straight to a loonie bin somewhere. I realize how silly it all sounds but for me it was very real. It was real and I still at times struggle to shake these resonances off. When I saw my surgeon after surgery the next day, the distance I had felt weeks earlier was gone. Yes, I had a major surgery that he got me through, of course it would feel more comfortable. This is normal but let me tell you, when I saw him post surgery a few weeks later, I nearly had a nervous breakdown. I was so nervous to meet him, it was like public speaking for the first time. Why? Who knows but I was spun out to see him. It was weird. Some might say, in an NDE or NDA you get to make the decision with God or a much higher power, but the reality is when you dance in the between, you don't always get the life review, the bright light and experience of what heaven is like. Sometimes you sit on the cusp. The inbetween and it's peaceful there. It really was. I knew I could leave and I'd be okay. I knew my family would be devesated but they'd be okay and we'd see each other again. I also knew I could come back, and coming back was hard. I knew it would be uncomfortable and challening. I knew it would test me. It has and it did. Some may wonder, why was my surgeon the one I made this decision with? And if he on earth side didn't do it - how am I sure it was him on the other side? Well, a few reasons, there wasn't anyone else that could. It wasn't our physical selves talking. It was our spiritual selves. I believe a soul contract exists between us. One where we agreed at this time, this place, this circumstance we would convene and I'd get to re-evaluate and re-create my life. He was going to help me with that. Some may say "you sure that wasn't the devil?". Especially devout Christians (of which I am one) would say this was the work of evil. And to them I tell you, me coming back, healing better than I could have ever imagined, with a beautiful scar and almost no major issues post surgery there was no evil involved. I agreed to a few "small" terms and he agreed he would make sure I could come back. And he did. I struggle with this sometimes, I often wonder if I've made it up to help with a traumatic experience but my scar, the fact that I spent days with 2 less litres of blood, needed no pain meds, had a blood pressure that should have had me barely moving and my quickness to heal and rebound, was nothing short of a miracle. Do I believe God played a roll - Absolutely 100% but I think that as spirits, as souls we are also divinely connected and stewards of love and light and there is no doubt my surgeons hands are blessed by God. He does an insane amount of surgeries every week and mine was no exception. A year later and this is my scar - given what I went into surgery with - this should not have been my outcome. I am so beyond grateful it was and is. I have almost no lingering pain, very little nerve damage, how? By the grace of God, a lot of prayers and an amazing surgeon.
Someday I hope to have better words for what I exprienced when I was in surgery. I hope I remember more details. But I am also okay in knowing that me not being able to properly articulate this experience is part of the deal too. Maybe we aren't meant to remember. Maybe all I need to remember is how to live.
I went earlier this week to see my surgeon's Executive Assistant. Just to say Hi. I haven't been to the office since my drains were removed. I was supposed to see him after my treatments - to discuss recreating or reduction of my other breast to balance out a bit better. I decided against all treatments and so never did make that follow up appt. She asked if I wanted to see him, I laughed and asked "Does he want to see ME?". He didn't. Well he did, but that day he was slammed (as always) and he wanted to read my chart. He did remember my case, and he said I should be monitored twice a year but the Oncologist at the Cross Cancer told me I would be monitored once a year (I'd have to initiate it) and that was it.
Dr. Lesniak's EA told me "no, he def wants to see you but wants to read your chart first". I'm sure he's wondering how someone who was diagnosed with Stage 3 Triple Negative Breast Cancer with a 16cm tumor that leached into the pectoral muscle he had to remove was able to decline treatment and "pop" in for a visit. He even asked her "did she just come in to say hi?" Yes sir, I sure did and I will every single year on August 26 (the day they decided to do the surgery).
My great Aunt I was told had a double mastectomy many years ago, she lived in Regina but her surgeon was in Edmonton and she kept in touch with him every year almost until she passed. I feel her energy sometimes and wonder if I'm following a similar path.
What I do know, I am lucky, grateful and blessed to still be here - disease free (hopefully for a long time). I feel amazing and grounded like I haven't ever in my life. There isn't a single day that my surgeon doesn't pop into my head. Everytime I get dressed I see my scar and I thank GOD that I was sent Dr. Lesniak as my doctor. I know there wasn't a single surgeon who would have gotten me through the chaos of last summer better. There just isn't.
And I have a new-er connection to our planet. To life overall. We are so lucky to be here. It is challenging, it is hard. It is complicated and it's anything but easy but it's beautiful, we have no idea how much we miss, how much we don't see, how distracted we are. I'm in a human suit, I am no saint and I miss a lot of the beauty too and get caught up in being a "human" but if we all just pause. Stop. Listen. The colors get brighter. The birds are louder. And we are so lucky to have this experience and I'm so grateful I was given the option to come back.
I don't know why I was given the option and I don't fully know why I chose to stay but I'm glad I did.
Comments