Surgery

Surgery

June 16th: All day it felt like someone was sitting on my chest, I was SO tense. I knew I wouldn't be able to ride my bike for a while, so after work I went for a ride, to Millington the_back_way with a couple detours, and back home, I flew the whole way. 25 miles and I felt great. The minute I got on the road, the person sitting on my chest was gone... I remember thinking 'how can I be sick, I FEEL GREAT?'.

June 17, 2010 5:30 AM By now, this ordeal just feels soooo freakin' creepy. As Julie and I walk through the doors into the hospital, I can't help but blurt out "into the rabbit hole..." It feels like we're entering a vortex.

Three of my best girlfriends are there for me. My beloved missus (Julie), and my pal and sister in law, Sherri are there pre-op. And after surgery, my little niece Jori was there.

Another sister in law (Laurie) planned to surprise me by showing up, God bless her. She doesn't like these kinds of things. But a SNAFU (ours) has her at the wrong hospital, clear across town. But it's the thought that counts, and I truly appreciate it.

The thing is that only a couple people on my side, both living out of state, even know what's going on with me. I don't want them to know until I know... something.

The prep flys by. The anesthesiologist is a nice little Asian lady. I make it clear to her that I don't want non medical types around me before I'm fully "with it". I tell her I don't want my family to see me when I'm a blithering idiot... well, maybe I shouldn't have put it that way, but she knew what I meant. We'll see how well this plays out.

Soon I'm being wheeled into surgery, giving the goodbyes to Julie and Sherri. I make the motorboat noise, flipping my finger over my lips, for their amusement, but mostly because I enjoy playing the village idiot, a guy that would whistle while being led to the gallows.

After surgery, I'm told, the lunacy continues, with me making a comment about the nurse refusing to pull my thumb, and me telling any one who'll listen that Julie and Sherri are High Maintenance but Jori's SUPERB! I have a HUGE bandage on my throat but really not much pain. People tell me later that I talked to them on the phone on the way home and made no sense at all. But wait, that's me when I'm coherent, too. I only have a vague recollection of this.

After we get home, I make Julie take my road bike down from the hook and I get on it for a photo op. She sends the picture out (huge bandage unmistakable) with the caption "only rode 10 miles today" or something like that. This is me trying to A) look invincible and B) play the village idiot at the same time (Bonus!).



Julie tells me the doctor's post surgery comments were along the lines of 'we'll wait for the biopsy and hope for good news'.

For quite a while now my son Austin has been "picking up on" things. Austin is 23 and has Downs Syndrome. He is very perceptive. We have made it a point not to discuss my situation around him, except for what we have to tell him. And now that I have a big bandage, he's really worried.

At one point I hear Austin crying in his room. He says "I worry you". And "I cry in there". Austin remembers when his grandfathers died and ever since that time, he associates doctors and medical procedures with death. It's impossible to put him at ease. He wants you to take a pill and be cured. As this adventure goes on and on, he worries more and more.

This breaks my heart.



All of this is the prelude, to THE DIAGNOSIS, and it's a real drag. Home from work Thursday / Friday, then the whole weekend to WAIT. The bandage comes off Friday morning, and my neck is a mess. An inch and a half scar, and tons of swelling. But it really only bothers me when I lift my chin. Although I was given a scrip for vicodin (sp?), I am not taking them as they're really not needed. But then my sister Marta, who's a nurse, suggests that I take them at night as they'll help me sleep. So I do. And they do.


I call for my follow up appt and she gives me a SATURDAY appointment. OK, since they told me they'd probably know the diagnosis in 48 hours, why don't I just wait 8 FREAKIN' DAYS? I'm sure they'll move that up, the waiting IS the hardest part, Tom Petty was right.

On Monday, the 21st, I call the nurse and she tells me she should have the results any time now, and she will call and give me the news... she will? Wow, I just knew I'd have to go in to talk to the Doctor. Then, on the 22nd she calls and says I'm to come in the 23rd at 4:45 and the doctor will give me the results.

Uh-oh. It's cancer, now I know it because she changed from the casual, 'oh yeah, I'll tell you' to the stiff and formal 'come in and see the doctor and he'll go over the results with you. I am a cold and unfeeling robot.' (exaggeration employed here for comic effect, the nurse was just doing her job and was VERY nice).

Even now, I've still got a lot of swelling and am referring to my lumpectomy, or whatever you call it, as my "goiter", which makes Julie wince and Sherri laugh.