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 3rd
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.
