Where to start...There's so much to say right now I may have to break it up into a couple posts. I'm not in the mood to condense anything right now, and, I want every thought and feeling to have a "platform". I apologize in advance if I ramble a bit. I will work to avoid this, as I get irritated whenever I have to work too hard to follow a certain train of thought. I lose interest. I don't want that to happen here because, after all, I want all this to help others...
Beyond all things, I thank God. Not for healing (for that is still to be determined), but for the LOVE and COMFORT shown to me through all my friends, and family, who call to see how I am doing, who visit me to cheer me up, who bring us food to lighten our load, who pray for me (constantly) to be healed, who send notes of love and encouragement ... all the ways LOVE reveals itself in our life. It is humbling, it's overwhelming, it's essential for health. When God promised to always be with us, this is what He meant. The extent to which we care and provide for others reflects the level to which we open ourselves to the movements of HIS Holy Spirit...within us all. So...Thank you. For being God for me when I needed you most.
So, the surgery. On Monday, I went in for my MRI which, while possibly showing the cancer had "breached" the capsule, it looked fairly contained to the prostatic general area and was a fairly routine
"ectomy"(removal) case. But,when it comes to cancer, I've found doctors and health care providers to be deliberately vague. They rarely use the word "cure", as a verb, it's always indirectly referred to. Such as, they will never say " This or that treatment will cure you". They will only say " This or that treatment provides the best option to achieve the highest possibility of cure to reach your potential life expectancy". I don't blame them, I know why this is, but being on the patient side of things, the "grey cloud" in the room is the absence of language to assuage the fears you have about your disease. All you want is a long healthy life and the path to achieve it. If "A" then "B". People I spoke with before the surgery kept saying "It will be good to get this behind you". While I knew it would be good to get the surgery behind me, I also knew the "cure" was a different matter completely. The cure, or more accurately, the confirmation of a cure, will only reveal itself after a lengthy period of time and many small steps in the process. All cancer is stubborn, determined, and very difficult to predict in it's "next move". I think that my urologist privately was expecting my follow-up care to include radiation or chemotherapy. He expressed, in some very subtle ways, his intuition that the cancer had become systemic and would need to tract it down and attack it there. The first "step" was to remove the organ. I really do appreciate his consultation protocol, I have enough "anxiety" genes as it is, but I knew the realities. Part of me wanted to just keep driving west when I got to Grand Junction, head to the Puget Sound, rent a boat and motor out to where we buried my dad, and consult with him. What would his take be on all this? You can read all there is to read about cancer and the various treatments for it. It won't matter. Being on this side of the equation prevents you from being objective.
So we wandered about the hospital for a while , waiting for the surgery check-in. My brother and friend, Bob Cook, came over from Denver to be with Sheila and I, and we strolled around St. Mary's hospital... talking, drinking coffee (them, not me), and generally calming ourselves. Around 11:15 or so, they ushered me into the pre-op area and got the ball rolling. Over the next 1 1/2hrs - 2 hrs, a couple different nurses, my urologist, and the anesthesiologist came by to talk about things. My doctor, Caleb Stepan, explained the MRI results and what his final approach would be. That's almost all I remember except rolling into the OR and getting a quick glimpse of the "robot" that would soon be delicately removing some of my original "factory equipment". He was "resting" when I saw him, covered with little socks on his hands. The next thing I knew it was almost 8 pm, my back was killing me, and I couldn't keep my eye lids open. Thanks to a little morphine I got some decent rest that night and woke up early the next day.
Tuesday was a so-so day. They removed a drainage tube in my abdomen around 7:30am. My doctor came by around 8 and explained the procedure, what they found, the timeline for biopsy results, and calmly expressed his optimism. "In a few days we'll have the pathology report on the gland and lymph nodes and that will tell us a lot". You have to look hard there, but hidden in his comments was a little more optimism. So...Tuesday afternoon I was discharged to my hotel room. Because we have a long drive home they wanted me close, in case a complication arose, and I opted for the hotel. After picking up pain meds and something to eat, we retired to the hotel and settled in for the night. Wednesday morning we got going around noon and started a slow but deliberate drive home, stopping a couple times to walk around.
Wednesday night and Thursday was a little rough . Maybe I over did it, but for sure I didn't get in "front" of the pain, as they say, and I didn't sleep very well. Most of the day was trying to manage the abdominal pain, gas mostly, and trying to nap. Thursday afternoon my doctor called with the results of the pathology tests. I could sense the upbeat tone in his voice as we discussed how I was feeling and my need to pay closer attention to any pain I felt. We also discussed some ideas about jump starting some bowel activity (no details here), and what to expect going forward. Then he started with "I just got the pathology results" and I caught my breath for a brief second, "and it all looks good". Wait, what? "The cancer WAS contained in the prostate, there was no evidence of cancer in any of the lymph nodes or seminal vesicles, so...there's a good probability the cancer will be treated with surgery alone". He had me at "looks good". This phone call was the one I awaited since surgery, but I wasn't completely sure I wanted to receive. The last time I was in this situation, Aug. 30th, the news of my initial biopsy results was not so good. It came up as a "blocked" call and I instantly knew who it was. I stared at the phone for a couple rings before I answered it. So...slowly I am building some foundation of real hope. I will have to wait until Dec. 4th to see if I have any PSA still in my body. It should be 0%. If there is some reading above that then it means some "micro" tumors exist and will have to be treated another way.
Since Friday I have slowly weaned myself off of the pain meds and now only take them at night to sleep well. Tomorrow I go to Grand Junction for a follow-up visit...and to have the catheter removed. Thanks Be To GOD.
So...I have exhausted my storage of energy for today and need to close. I am beginning to nod off over the computer. Please know how much I LOVE all of you back. Pray for each other constantly, whether you think someone may need it or not. You just don't know...
No comments:
Post a Comment