My Cancer Journey 4

Written in 2010 about the cancer surgery experience.

Prior to the cancer scenario, I had experienced two surgeries: the removal of my wisdom teeth too many years ago to remember, and a relatively uneventful hysterectomy a few years back. The idea of surgery was not too frightening in itself, although the papers I signed about everything that could go wrong were disconcerting. It also didn't help that a deadly virus that thrives in hospitals had been making headlines. I discreetly tucked hand sanitizer and wipes into my bag, although I was pleased to see that St. John's Regional Medical Center had read the news too, and had posted containers of sanitizer about every three feet, along with signs reminding me to feel free to remind my health care personnel to use it (was there a chance they'd forget?).

I think lying in the prep room is a tough place. You're still awake enough to wonder about stuff. Pastor Randy of SCC came in and prayed with me, and then an anesthesiologist came to talk to me and somebody put in an IV, not without trouble since my veins are hard to catch. Dr. Brooks came in to reassure me that he thought this surgery would go well, that I'd still have enough colon to function, and that I should be up and around soon and that would be the end of the matter.

Turns out he was right on three counts. The surgery did go well. He was able to do it laparoscopically, which meant that I had one medium-sized incision and three little stab wounds as opposed to a large incision. I had plenty of colon left. There was one little hitch, though. A few hours post-surgery, I just felt so relaxed that I didn't want to bother with anything. A check of my blood pressure apparently revealed that it was dangerously low, because I could hear nurses urgently signaling for the doctor on call and then for Dr. Brooks. An IV was wheeled in for extra blood transfusions. Funny thing was, I didn't care. It was like I was lying there watching all that happen to somebody else. Then, it hit me. I WAS lying there, hooked up to tubes and completely helpless, and all of a sudden I thought, "Nobody expects me to do anything about this! I CAN'T do anything about this! Whatever God wants to do right now is fine with me. This is great! There's an emergency and I don't have to do ANYTHING!" Now, I know this sounds really weird, but to me that was just hilariously FUNNY! Medication will do odd things to you.

After the blood pressure crisis, things went well. I rested well that night, and the next day I was able to ditch my catheter and drag my IV pole to the bathroom, take a shower and make my stylish debut into the hallway for exercise, having pulled on a pair of loose pajama pants to conceal the shortcomings of the gown, with which anyone who's been in the hospital is all too familiar. Here another feature of St. John's became a blessing. Good Catholics have plastered the halls of that place with Scripture plaques. Awesome! I walked a long ways, just making it from Scripture to Scripture. The nurses were amazed that I had so much energy.

Turns out I needed those encouraging Scriptures. Because the doctor was wrong about one thing. The surgery was NOT the end of the matter. At the end of my eventful day of exercise, Dr. Brooks came in with bad news: He had removed 27 lymph nodes for testing, and found cancer cells in ONE of them. Now I had a decision to make. There was probably no more cancer, but technically it was Stage III and chemotherapy was indicated, just in case.

The next morning, Dr. Manjula Raju, an oncologist, came in. She was armed with charts detailing cases just like mine, showing that statistically, my chances of cancer recurring would drop by nearly 20% if I had the chemo. I decided to do it, made an appointment to see her later, and then tried to concentrate on getting well.

That evening, Phil and the boys went to the Eagles concert and came by to tell me all about it. Oh, well. The next morning, I was released and went home to take up a post watching the goings-on of my household from the couch, feeling very thankful for the gifts of food that were starting to come in. I was feeling so much better that I began to have school sessions with Luke, although the pain medicine made me laugh about things like World War I. I ditched it after two days and replaced it with regular Tylenol.

I made a rapid recovery and was soon back to doing my in-home walk videos. Having cancer surgery is a rough way to lose 25 pounds, but, hey, I thought, since the weight is gone I should try to keep it off. I also made some further dietary changes, increasing my intake of antioxidant fruits and veggies and eliminating certain unhealthy foods altogether. In fact, I was given a real blessing, although I didn't think about it at the time. When I woke up from surgery, I was horribly thirsty from not having had anything by mouth for so long. An aide brought a cup of ice with a little foam thing in it (looked suspiciously like a craft paintbrush, although when I got my itemized bill it was priced at $4). Every ten minutes I could pull the paintbrush out of the ice and brush the inside of my mouth with it. Not much water, obviously. That evening, though, after the blood pressure episode had been rectified, my doctor OK'd for me to have liquids. I was given a tray with some clear broth and a glass of iced tea. I grabbed that tea and guzzled it and asked for more. Now, I never was much of a tea drinker before, but that was DELICIOUS. And I've liked it ever since. Now I make tea every day, mostly green tea for the extra antioxidants, but sometimes black tea or herbal teas. I usually don't sweeten it, but if I do I just use raw honey. So, when it came to dietary changes, it was no problem for me to give up sodas and other sugary beverages. I hadn't ever really liked them that much, anyway, and now I just LOVED tea! So life was getting back to normal, except that I was trying not to think too much about the approaching chemotherapy.