2011, Renaissance Rainbow
In My Bloodstream: Lisinopril, Omeprazole
On the Stereo: You Remain, Willie Nelson with Bonnie Raitt
On Jan. 3rd, we flew to Nashville for two days to see Bob and Edith Keith. Bob was struggling, as Edith had Alzheimers, and was not at all her normal self. Bob was grateful that we would take the time to come and spend time with them. He just needed to talk. Edith, sadly, was not engaged in any of our conversations. She was confused and belligerent. Not at all Edith. It struck me that this was the first time we had ever visited them, in all our shared years, that we did not play double canasta. That game had been at the center of all our times together. They played relentlessly. As did we. And we still do, to this day.
Back at home, we golfed and dined with our buds almost daily. The weather was good and our life seemed to be on the upswing. I had been continuing to receive excisions of skin cancers for several years and to us, they were just part of life. They were regular and often. We never thought twice about them and I was never slowed down by the wounds or stitches.
On Jan. 12th, I was at Riverchase Dermatology, seeing my friend, Sadie, who confirmed that a previous biopsy had confirmed that a small dot, dead center on my chest, was melanoma. I had thought it to be irrelevant, but she had been overtly suspicious when she had targeted it during my body scan. Just great. She wanted to set up a surgery for me at their facility, and I told her, I would prefer another doctor. I had, too often, felt like I was on an assembly line at their clinic. Their work on me had been perfunctory, but not so much humane.
During one procedure on my back, an aid showed me to my room, a nurse came in had me lie on my stomach, another nurse had given me needles to freeze the site, a surgeon had excised the damaged area, a plastic surgeon stitched me up and another nurse helped me get up and get out. There was little to no interaction and I never did see who did the surgery. Perfectly orchestrated, but not satisfying.
We called Doctor Jordan, in Naples, who had performed a lymph node surgery on my neck, the previous year, and made an appointment. We drove down and met with him on the 18th. We went for tests and pre-admission on the 27th and early on the 31st, arrived for my day surgery. Kathy sat for hours in the waiting room, for the doctor to brief her on my condition. We had been aware that the melanoma was deep, according to the biopsy, and its position on my chest was not good. We were rightfully concerned, and the length of the operation had been understated.
Finally Dr. Jordan found her waiting and worrying. There had been complications. In addition to the removal of the cancer, they had done a search for infected lymph nodes, which they felt were likely in cases like mine. Many nodes had been harvested and had been sent for pathology. As the operation had been far more extensive than planned, I would have to be admitted into the hospital for the night. I was in rough shape. I felt like I had been hit by a truck. Absolutely every part of me hurt.
In the hospital room, I was given pain medication and I started realizing what I looked like. I had been catheterized and had a garden hose coming out of my chest. It was draining rusty drool into a bag taped to my hip. God, I hurt. I was dismissed the next day. Sometime during my stay, Kath had given me back my watch, which, with my ring, had been removed for the operation. When she was handing me my ring, it had fallen into the bed sheets. We could not find it and neither could the hospital staff. Gone. Along with my melanoma tumor. Kath collected me and my new appendage, and took us home.
Our stay at home was not at all comfortable. Even with pain meds, I was sore and, with the hose and baggie, always uncomfortable. We returned to Naples to have the tube removed on Feb. 8th.
The doctor's nurse was assigned to remove the tube. She pulled on it. Nothing. She gave a big tug. No movement. She wrapped it around her wrist, put her other hand on my chest, and pulled with all of her strength. She started to cry and apologized for what was happening. The tube was not coming out. By this point, I was almost passing out from my pain. I had not taken any pain meds for the past few days, and there were none to be had in the clinic.
She left to find the doctor, and he came in, slightly peeved, that he had to finish the job which his nurse should have been able to handle. He could not. At least not until his third try. The scene, with the nurse crying in sympathy, the doctor hauling, with both of his hands, at this tube which had taken root inside my chest, Kathy looking on, horrified, and me, hanging on to a wall to provide resistance, could have been comical. But, alas, it was not. It was painfully ridiculous. I had not been aware that the hose inside my chest cavity, was as long as it was. There had to be three more feet, in addition the the three feet hanging from my chest to the collection bag. As gut wrenching as it was, I was so glad to have it removed. The last week had proven difficult. I had little mobility and the area where the tube entered my lung was continually sore. Every movement hurt. I had not been able to sleep. Get out damned hose. And good riddance to you.
We returned again on the 15th, to have the stitches removed. I was not looking forward to this anymore. They were not all cooperative, and we drove back down again, two days later for the rest to be taken out. The lymph nodes had been biopsied and were, each of them, cancer free.
Years later - how you get from one nipple to the other is still clearly marked
During this short period, Kristin, Doug and baby Avet came for a few days, at the end of January. There is nothing in the world than the joy of holding a baby. When Avet was in our arms, our cares disappeared. Just the sight of him brightened our lives.
Avet and Poppa nose to nose
2011 started, not as smoothly as we had hoped. The first two months, alone, gave us enough cancer worries to fill a lifetime. However, we kept on living large. The chest wound did eventually heal, and we got back to sharing our days with our friends. The Feicks, the Harrelsons. the Youngs, the Dickeys, Rose, the Hannas and the Senecas all, unknowingly, helped us successfully navigate a tough few months. Thank you all.
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