Surgery vs a Birthday Party

When we came back from Vegas last time,

I was dreading Ed’s birthday open house.

I had two days to get ready for it.

When we came back this time,

I was dreading surgery.

I had two days to get ready for it.

 I didn’t know which one I dreaded the most.

As it turned out,

surgery won hands down.

        "This is the end of life: 
        The end of life is not to be happy;
        the end of life is not to achieve pleasure and avoid pain;
        the end of life is to live in a sacred way, 
              come what may.”

I wanted to follow the advice of the poet.

I tried.

But is fear living life in a sacred way?

Dread?

Feeling abandoned, forsaken, isolated, desolate?

Hopeless?

Defeated and dejected?

Peace I give unto you.

My peace I give unto you.

Not as the world giveth,

Give I unto you.

I must be courageous, come what may.

Ed and I went swimming the day before surgery.

We went for a trike ride.

Trying to relax and feel comfortable,

I had a sauna and hot tub.

DeRay and I left at 5

to be to the Huntsman Cancer Center by 6 AM.

We decided to let Ed sleep.

I wish we had someone to care for him for one day.

$450 our share for one night in the hospital.

I’ve never had such expensive accommodations.

"That’s a week’s cruise," DeRay pointed out.

On the way down,

we wondered if we could remember

what the doctor looks like.

We have seen him only once.

“All I know is he’s a young guy with a beard,”

DeRay says.

So I’m in the room ready to go into surgery

when I see this hand in a black leather jacket reach for my file.

It’s like slow motion in some mystery thriller

 – then in walks this clean-shaven man.

Gulp.  Who are you?

“It warmed up so I shaved.”

I guessed him to be 28;

DeRay said 35.

He’ll be 41 next week.

Kid.

Somehow we got talking about

why I was having my complete thyroid taken out.

I told him how Dr. Abraham first said I needed it out

then a week later he called

and said we’ll just watch it for six months.

I would have cancelled but Clare’s friend’s biopsy came back benign.

When they did surgery, it was malignant,

so then she had to have a second surgery

and now the iodine treatment for cancer.

Amy said “Ordinarily surgery is the last resort

but when you’re dealing with tumors and cancer,

you don’t take chances.”

He said that usually once the surgery schedule gets set,

they don’t change,

but he has a gut feeling about these things

and he feels OK about just doing half of the thyroid, if possible.

The thyroid regulates too many things in the body

to be artificially replaced.

I’m especially concerned about the serotonin levels – 
a feel good chemical called the happy juices -
basically a happiness potion.

He has two nodules to take out,

one on the left side and a smaller one in the middle.

We agreed that if he couldn’t make that work,

he’d take the entire thyroid out;

when we get the pathology report back

if it’s malignant, I’ll have to have the other side out.

We thought it was worth the risk.

I was very happy when I woke up at 10:35

and they said they only took half of it out.

No medication or anything.

I’m thrilled.

They promised I would have the sorest throat I’d ever had in my life.

They were right.

Still it’s not as painful as stomach surgery;

if I don’t swallow or cough, there really isn’t much pain.

I was a little nauseated all day

but I didn’t require any pain medication.

The nurse says it’s OK to be brave

but your body heals better without the pain

so she talked me into a low dosage.

It sent me over the edge.

I went to pieces.

I was so dizzy I couldn’t manage.

I scared the poor little doctor-to-be to death.

He patted my arm and said,

“We’ll be back.  We’ll be back.  You’ll be fine.”

I never saw him again.

While I was in surgery, DeRay went home to get Ed.

They were waiting for me in the room.

I have a view of blossoming trees, a nice patio

and the hills with a mountain biking/hiking trail that is in constant use.

On the other side,

I would have had an unobstructed view of the entire city

but the mountains and blossoming trees are more my nature and heritage.

DeRay and Ed couldn’t find anything to eat in the cafeteria so at 2,

DeRay took Ed home.

He came back around 5 or 6.

He’s going to be worn out.

Soft diet, which means Jell-O, apple juice, broth – all three meals.

 I love the compression boots they have on my legs

since my head has to be elevated to at least 30%.
I want to take them home.

My knees did not hurt at all.

It’s over.

My throat is sore, my headaches,

I have a pain in my chest;

but I’m alive.

In truth, nothing that I didn’t make up or imagine is wrong with me.

Late in the evening,

the nurse walks around the circle with me.

The windows are like mirrors.

What a shock to see this wobbly funny old woman

with her white hair sticking straight up,

clothed in an ugly hospital gown,

thick blue pressure socks on both legs,

creeping slowly down the hall pushing her IV cart.

Who is that?

My great grandmother?

Someone’s great grandmother?

Funny.

I hope I never get old.

Never.

On my arm besides bands with my name and drug allergies,

there was one that said “Fall risk.”

Everyone, including me, wondered why that was there.

“You look fine to me,” the nurse said.

Finally someone remembered they put it on everyone over age 65.

Am I over 65?

I’ve forgotten completely.

When I went in for Pre-Op, they did an EKG.

“I’ve never had this before.”

“They do it on everyone over 65.”

So, what does that have to do with me?

 At 4:30 AM they came in to take vitals,

“Now go back to sleep.  It’s still early.”

I pictured them going down the hall

terrorizing all the innocent sleeping victims.

Little Fellow (resident) came in at 7

and said I could go home.

He took the drainage tube out.

It was poking in my neck about 4”.

I think they emptied a cup at least 4 times.

We got home about 11.

DeRay could think of nothing to do for me.

I poached myself an egg and went to bed.

I was beginning to feel neglected until Amy got home.

She took such good care of me.

She gave me water, made me tea,

a little left-over soup, mashed potatoes,

airborne, cough drops, ibuprofen, ice pack.

I’m feeling fine.

Well, I don’t want to swallow or cough.

We watched the 3^rd Naira series,

which was suspenseful and delightful.

The next morning,

DeRay is stressed out with taxes

and taking care of Les’ business

while he is on his mission.

He was carrying on about something

and I started to cry.

Ed put his arms around me holding me tight,

patting me and saying

“It’s OK.  It’s OK,” until I calmed down.

I almost felt like I was in the arms of Jesus.

DeLoy wrote an email asking how I was doing.

I told him that I would call him on Skype after I had my shower.

“I can't wait to show you how those bandits slit my throat
while I was sleeping!” I wrote him.

(They not only slit my throat; they charged me an arm and a leg.)

DeLoy had called me Monday to showoff his surgery

where they had removed cancer from his forehead.

He wanted me to see it before he took the gauze out

and it was just covered with a band aid.

Verla called everyday.

I made the asparagus soup like she told me for lunch

It was very good.

Lucy called.  Brooke.  Lana Gale called.

Aunt Mar and Aunt Olive called.

Amy made a good soup when she got home.

DeRay spent the day in Ogden moving out of Les’ office

and turning the keys over to the new owner.

Amy found another delightful movie to watch.

Bless her.

By Friday, I’m already feeling fine.

I have to wait a week for the pathology report

and I can’t swim but, hey, I’m feeling very blessed,
come what may.