Well how bout that? I finally made to the stage, granted it wasn’t the stage I wanted to be on, but hey Stage 1 is infinitely better than Stage 4. Back in October, I had the joy of the colonoscopy, have had one before so not a big thing, that is until you hear those dreaded doctor words, “We found this spot that we’re concerned about”. Uh Oh! Now we are scheduled for surgery. In my 58 years on this globe I have never had any kind of surgery beyond stitches or the occasional tooth thing. Here in the waning moments of my 58 years soon to be 59, I am going to have my first surgery, of course it can’t be something ho-hum like the removal of the good ole appendix, nope I get to have part of my butt removed. Colon resection surgery it’s called. Oh joy.
The deed is scheduled for December 1, so on November 30 I get to partake in “surgery prep day” which consists of a list of things you can not do, like for instance, eating. No food, no coffee, no cola, and for God’s sake don’t drink ANYTHING RED!! Water is what you get, be happy with it. Now starting at 5pm you get to drink this horrid concoction, which tastes like old bong water with a hint of lemon. As soon as you choke this down, you must drink 3 more 16 oz glasses of water, this is designed to purge you of all impurities. As the doc has stated, “we want you squeaky clean down there”. And you have to follow the instructions as you have to do this all over again at 9pm, they want to be able to eat off the insides of your large intestine. I will spare you, gentle reader, of the gory details of those 6 hours of infamy, simply to state that by 11pm the term “drained” is a severe understatement.
Time to get all excited, it’s December 1st, Surgery Day! Oh goodie. Get to the hospital at 11am for surgery at 2pm, makes sense. Time to get probed, prodded and punctured right before they start the serious job of slicing. So 2 or 3 hours later, no I don’t know how long remember I was out, I am back in my new home with a ghastly wound on my belly and some hard core serious pain. Bring on the narcotics, quickly I might add. So finally wrapped in the calming arms of morpheus, and no, not the guy from “The Matrix”, I drift off to sleep. Only to be woken up numerous times for blood pressure checks, temperature, and several “here swallow this” episodes thru out the night. I woke the next morning to with the knowledge, that I have indeed made a discovery. Neither the heart nor the brain is the “center” of the body, no that location was made crystal clear to me each time I tried to breathe, cough, move at all, sit up, laugh, sneeze or any other type of movement. My discovery? You may ask, is the fact that ALL Everything in one’s body is connected to one’s belly button. Any type of movement sets off an alarm that had the brain screaming STOP! Please don’t move, stay as you are for the rest of your life! Good Grief Charlie Brown. Now here’s the funny part, Dr said, “well you can go home as soon as you can fart”. I spent the next 3 days with nurses, techs, dr’s, even janitors asking “Have you farted yet”. Mom would have been appalled. Saturday the 4th, prayers were answered, gas was passed and we were sent home. Yea me!
Woo Hoo we are at home, it was then that I realized that, guess what, you ain’t leaving this place for 4-5 weeks. Fine, setup camp in my studio/office and commence to recovering. The lovely Mrs K and I found out a couple days later from the pathology report that yes indeed that “questionable spot” was cancerous. Yeppers, Stage 1. We had a follow up appt with the good doctor on the 14th where we found out that glorious news. Meanwhile the pain alarms are becoming fewer and farther between, but still often enough to remind me to not breathe, cough, sneeze, yawn, move, stretch and yes this includes trips to the bathroom.
Have you ever thought about how much you can not do when Dr’s orders are “Do Not Lift Anything”. Everything one wants to do requires some sort of lifting, it’s ridiculous. Chris, by the way, is a stickler for Dr’s orders. I am good about taking my meds, but towels are not heavy. Therefore this basket of towels can be moved to the utility room and loaded into the washer. (I am a terrible recover’er, I just can’t sit or lay down all day without doing something, it drives me insane) The alarm, I’ll have you know went off extremely loudly when I was about halfway thru the kitchen with the basket of towels. I believe Chris’s words, if I’m not mistaken, were “I told you not to lift anything!, Doofus!” Fine I will refrain, that is until the next task presents itself in front of me. I have been doing better about lifting and trying not to do too much, so I guess that’s a good thing. Dr says not to lift anything heavy (heavy enough to require your core muscles) for the next month. If you can lift it with just arm strength, then lift all you want.
So it’s now December 16th, I am battling a minor infection in my wound, but on new antibiotics that should be good. We had some of the staples removed as well. Chris has to repack part of my wound daily so it will heal together properly, that is loads of fun (she does a great job). So far so good, everyday seems to get a little easier. Meanwhile, back to the “C” word, doc says all should be well, he checked in and around the “spot” and found no evidence of further infestation. We are going to see an oncologist in the next couple of weeks to be make 100% sure all is well. Many thanks to Chris, for putting up with me, Dr Jabbour for some excellent slicing and dicing, my Sunday school class at Lake Pointe, ya’ll are all good folks, and of course to rest of my family. If anything changes for the worst I will certainly let ya’ll know. In the meantime, Praise the Lord and pass the ammo! Merry Christmas to all.
Make a Joyful Noise,
dave