Doldrums of August
In My Bloodstream: Lisinopril, Amlodopine, Omeprazole, Tamsulosin
On The Stereo: God Help The Outcasts: Heidi Mollenhauer (The Hunchback of Notre Dame)
Our very short summer vacation has taken its leave all too soon. It has been, as would be expected in Florida, hot. And now the rainy season has begun.
I decided that I would take a sabbatical from my daily writing to spend some "quality time" with my my child bride. During the school year, our time together was sporadic. She was too often tired and worked on plans and grades throughout the weekends. For this past period, we got caught up on dental and doctor visits, and found ourselves unable or unwilling to make any plans of consequence. We spent much of our mutual time playing golf and whatever. You know. We also, in the evenings, binge-watched Breaking Bad.
Doug had told us, years ago, that it was the best series ever produced for television. And we had never watched an episode. We are, just now, beginning the fifth, and final season. Doug may well be correct in his assessment. We do not have much time to watch the rest, as football season begin soon, as does the new school year. Kath begins her job this week.
During my hiatus, Kath was kind enough to send out a note, in my stead, with regard to my lymphoma status. I thank her for her care, and for imparting to you, the joy that explodes from your heart, when a cancer visit ends, simply, with, "See you in six months."
After a full day of blood work and scans, life could not be sweeter. Too many times in the past, after just such a visit, we have been told that cancer had spread. I feel like I am walking the plank, every single time. This day, the plank took us safely to land. The sharks circling below will have to wait another six months.
Never having much time to just relax, and let some grass grow under our feet, on July 28th, Kath and I, at 6am, left for the Morsani Center, at USF. I was there for three scheduled Mohs surgeries, and Kat was to see her dermatologist on a follow-up. My surgeries were to start at 7:30 and Kath's appointment was to be at 10:15. We both checked in, with some small hope that Kath might be taken early, if her doc knew she was there early, to be with me. We had different doctors, but the staff work well and we are somewhat well known. What organization we have.
Doug had told us, years ago, that it was the best series ever produced for television. And we had never watched an episode. We are, just now, beginning the fifth, and final season. Doug may well be correct in his assessment. We do not have much time to watch the rest, as football season begin soon, as does the new school year. Kath begins her job this week.
During my hiatus, Kath was kind enough to send out a note, in my stead, with regard to my lymphoma status. I thank her for her care, and for imparting to you, the joy that explodes from your heart, when a cancer visit ends, simply, with, "See you in six months."
After a full day of blood work and scans, life could not be sweeter. Too many times in the past, after just such a visit, we have been told that cancer had spread. I feel like I am walking the plank, every single time. This day, the plank took us safely to land. The sharks circling below will have to wait another six months.
Never having much time to just relax, and let some grass grow under our feet, on July 28th, Kath and I, at 6am, left for the Morsani Center, at USF. I was there for three scheduled Mohs surgeries, and Kat was to see her dermatologist on a follow-up. My surgeries were to start at 7:30 and Kath's appointment was to be at 10:15. We both checked in, with some small hope that Kath might be taken early, if her doc knew she was there early, to be with me. We had different doctors, but the staff work well and we are somewhat well known. What organization we have.
I was in the operating chair, exactly on time and Kat was in the waiting room, reading and watching HGTV. For some reason, this, I was told, was the only station to be deemed non-offensive to those people in every waiting room in the hospital. It is the vanilla for all tastes.
The surgeon arrived an hour late, without explanation. I sat, talking with nurses, who entered and exited, from time to time. Nothing could begin until the conductor made his entrance. In the meantime, Kat was in one room and I, the other. Each, alone. Finally, we began.
The cancer on my left cheek, was excised, and then, the squamous under, and slightly behind my left ear followed suit. The cancer spot on my lower abdomen, was supposed to be next, but a review of its width, drew an opinion that it did not qualify for Mohs, and should be removed by my plastic surgeon, Dr. Harrington. Prior to this visit, this doctor, Boris Cherpelis, Harrington, and I, had agreed that today's wounds would be left open, and closed the next day, along with two additional cancers, by Dr. Harrington, under general anesthesia. By doing so, all five sites could be handled in a more concise fashion, in a shorter span of time. I did mention my organizational skills.
It was now 9:30 and the biopsies were sent to the lab, and I returned to the waiting room. Kathy was not there. I was told by another short term room resident, that she had been called to her appointment with Dr. Patel. I waited alone. She had cleverly left my reading materials - Saturday's Wall Street Journal and the latest GOLF Magazine. I continued to wait, with HGTV providing background dialog.
Eventually, the nurse, Ronda, a winner of a person, invited me back to her (and my) operating room. I was told that there were clear margins on the cheek tissue, but no luck with the below the ear, neck biopsy. They would take another chunk. I was prepped, pumped with additional lydocaine, and operated on again. Back to the waiting room again. My bride was there. Several small cancers had been removed and her hand and arm were bandaged. She had also received the requisite liquid nitrogen treatment on an unknown number of other sites. They are so cleverly referred to as scrapes and burns. I have, too often, suggested that a more acceptable name be created, but so far no dermatologist has employed me to offer more palatable suggestions. I will offer no free advice. I have dignity and some free business time. And so, it remains. (I have a lot of free time.)
All in all, she was glad to finally see me, but visibly uncomfortable. She did not take the news of another, and deeper surgery to my neck, very well. We waited. At least we now had each other's company. My reading material was no more. I should have brought War And Peace.
At one point, a nurse came in to get herself a coffee. She was smily and affable and, while looking at the television, she said that she needed her kitchen re-done, and had we seen any good ideas. I volunteered that I had been watching, and suggested that all she needed was a lot of money. That is what I had learned from HGTV. My mood was shifting and I was not amused any more. My cheek had a bandaged on it, as did my neck. I was waiting for more lab results, and I had lost all sense of humor. I was not comporting myself as I should. A wisp of irritation was floating too near.
I was re-called to my operating chair and told that my cancer was deeper and indirect in its growth. We took a third crack at it. Each time, so far, they had had some issues with broken blood vessels. So, each time, they had had to cauterize, and then close up, and then do it all again. Same old. Same old.
I had been laying on my back, and my head had been pushed to the right, to allow the doctor a better perspective and easier access in his work. Between the surgical damage and the literal pain in my neck due to the stretching, I was most legitimately in pain and discomfort.
I finally returned to the operating room. The biopsy was back. This time I had my final discussion with the surgeon. He had been unable to remove the cancer and was now working in an area, very near some nerves and arteries, and he felt uncomfortable in going forward, given the circumstances of location and lack of pain killers at his disposal. For me, not him.
I returned to my waiting bride, and we were given a package of info for Dr. Harrington. We would see him the next morning.
And, I will continue that story next week.
I would like to thank a good number of you for checking in on me, either with a phone call or an email. Some dear friends, however, are also in some distress, and in need of good thoughts and prayers.
A friend and business partner of mine, John, wrote a loving note, urging me to stay close to the Lord. He is struggling with cancer, and is in a far more precarious position than I, but still, his thoughts and prayers are for me. I cannot give his full name as I do not have his permission. Don Carlson - you will know him well.
Last week we received heartbreaking news that Kathy's cousin Dianne, ( we call her Dynee) has encephalitis, and is in a coma in an Ottawa hospital. Her outlook is questionable, although Kath believes strongly in her recovery.
I selfishly ask of you, please take a moment for them. These are the most excellent of human beings, and they just might need our love.
Thank you
Nice to be back.
The surgeon arrived an hour late, without explanation. I sat, talking with nurses, who entered and exited, from time to time. Nothing could begin until the conductor made his entrance. In the meantime, Kat was in one room and I, the other. Each, alone. Finally, we began.
The cancer on my left cheek, was excised, and then, the squamous under, and slightly behind my left ear followed suit. The cancer spot on my lower abdomen, was supposed to be next, but a review of its width, drew an opinion that it did not qualify for Mohs, and should be removed by my plastic surgeon, Dr. Harrington. Prior to this visit, this doctor, Boris Cherpelis, Harrington, and I, had agreed that today's wounds would be left open, and closed the next day, along with two additional cancers, by Dr. Harrington, under general anesthesia. By doing so, all five sites could be handled in a more concise fashion, in a shorter span of time. I did mention my organizational skills.
It was now 9:30 and the biopsies were sent to the lab, and I returned to the waiting room. Kathy was not there. I was told by another short term room resident, that she had been called to her appointment with Dr. Patel. I waited alone. She had cleverly left my reading materials - Saturday's Wall Street Journal and the latest GOLF Magazine. I continued to wait, with HGTV providing background dialog.
Eventually, the nurse, Ronda, a winner of a person, invited me back to her (and my) operating room. I was told that there were clear margins on the cheek tissue, but no luck with the below the ear, neck biopsy. They would take another chunk. I was prepped, pumped with additional lydocaine, and operated on again. Back to the waiting room again. My bride was there. Several small cancers had been removed and her hand and arm were bandaged. She had also received the requisite liquid nitrogen treatment on an unknown number of other sites. They are so cleverly referred to as scrapes and burns. I have, too often, suggested that a more acceptable name be created, but so far no dermatologist has employed me to offer more palatable suggestions. I will offer no free advice. I have dignity and some free business time. And so, it remains. (I have a lot of free time.)
All in all, she was glad to finally see me, but visibly uncomfortable. She did not take the news of another, and deeper surgery to my neck, very well. We waited. At least we now had each other's company. My reading material was no more. I should have brought War And Peace.
At one point, a nurse came in to get herself a coffee. She was smily and affable and, while looking at the television, she said that she needed her kitchen re-done, and had we seen any good ideas. I volunteered that I had been watching, and suggested that all she needed was a lot of money. That is what I had learned from HGTV. My mood was shifting and I was not amused any more. My cheek had a bandaged on it, as did my neck. I was waiting for more lab results, and I had lost all sense of humor. I was not comporting myself as I should. A wisp of irritation was floating too near.
I was re-called to my operating chair and told that my cancer was deeper and indirect in its growth. We took a third crack at it. Each time, so far, they had had some issues with broken blood vessels. So, each time, they had had to cauterize, and then close up, and then do it all again. Same old. Same old.
I had been laying on my back, and my head had been pushed to the right, to allow the doctor a better perspective and easier access in his work. Between the surgical damage and the literal pain in my neck due to the stretching, I was most legitimately in pain and discomfort.
I finally returned to the operating room. The biopsy was back. This time I had my final discussion with the surgeon. He had been unable to remove the cancer and was now working in an area, very near some nerves and arteries, and he felt uncomfortable in going forward, given the circumstances of location and lack of pain killers at his disposal. For me, not him.
I returned to my waiting bride, and we were given a package of info for Dr. Harrington. We would see him the next morning.
And, I will continue that story next week.
I would like to thank a good number of you for checking in on me, either with a phone call or an email. Some dear friends, however, are also in some distress, and in need of good thoughts and prayers.
A friend and business partner of mine, John, wrote a loving note, urging me to stay close to the Lord. He is struggling with cancer, and is in a far more precarious position than I, but still, his thoughts and prayers are for me. I cannot give his full name as I do not have his permission. Don Carlson - you will know him well.
Last week we received heartbreaking news that Kathy's cousin Dianne, ( we call her Dynee) has encephalitis, and is in a coma in an Ottawa hospital. Her outlook is questionable, although Kath believes strongly in her recovery.
I selfishly ask of you, please take a moment for them. These are the most excellent of human beings, and they just might need our love.
Thank you
Nice to be back.
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