Tuesday, May 29, PM

I haven't blogged in quite a while.  It's been a really busy, crazy, toilsome time.
I entered Fort Sanders Hospital, as planned, last Tuesday AM.  My surgery was to be at 9:00, but was delayed somewhat.  I didn't mind, as I was mentally prepared for what I felt was a routine removal of a tumor.  Not so.
After they got me naked and into one of those notoriously immodest hospital gowns, I had to go potty.
When I was walking towards the door, someone called my name.  It was Johnny Kidd.  It seems that Debby was having a knee replacement.  They are long-ago friends, and I didn't realize that she was in poor health.  Aparently, they didn't know that I was in poor health, either.
We spoke briefly, and I went on back to my holding area.
They do things in their holding area like old time hospitals do, and I like that.  They have gournies and beds, and they have real nurses and doctors buzzing about keeping up with their patient load.
I was the last to go from our area, and I thought perhaps theyd ruled out having me as a patient.
No such luck.
Things in surgery went without a hitch.  I was sore and heavily bandaged when I awoke in recovery, but otherwize not in too bad shape, considering I'd just been sawed in half, parts of my guts pulled out , cut apart, and re-sewn, stuffed back into place, and my stomach was stapled together with metal staples which look for all the world like cage clips.
The hard part came later.
My Surgeon, a really nice fellow, came to my room and informed me that the cancer had metastized into the lymph nodes.  He removed 19 of them, and that raises my level to a three, where it had originally been a two.
You go into the hospital, pay lots of money, get naked in front of people you don't know, have your guts torn out, patched, and re-inserted, drink a liquid diet, endure horrible pain and risk getting addicted to Morphine, just to have your level of cancer danger be raised.
There's something wrong with this picture.
I don't really think I could get my money back.
I don't think I've ever been so hurt and cried so much over something I can't see or beat in a fair fight.
The nursing staff was great to me, and I hope I've made some new friends.
I wore a surgical cap all the time I was there, as I knew that my hair looked terrible.
This morning, when I was certain that I could be discharged, I went to the trouble to arrange it in my usual style.
One of the nurses asked if I would fix her hair for her.  She has lovely hair, but she sure liked mine.
They had not seen hair at all on me until this morning.
Because of the lymph node infections, I will now have to have Chemo, but I can take it in Jefferson City if I want to.  That would be so much more handy than Knoxville.
I don't know how long the series will take, and I'm going to try to co-operate as much as possible.
Barbara cooked enough food for a camp meeting, and the parts we've sampled are great.  Steve brought her to the hospital once to see me, and she almost 'lost it' a couple of times.  This has really affected her in a deep way.
Michael, the hot dog man from Blaine, is on the Chaplain's team there, and he sent someone every day to try to give me some measure of comfort.  He was out of town for some additional training.  He worked with Cecil Cook, who was the nephew of Troy and Margaret Cook.
I think about all the Cook's were musically talented, but Sister Margaret was truely gifted in a wonderful way.
It was touching, the way people come forth with offers of getting me to the doctor's visits, food, prayers, moral support, and just to express their love for me, and their concern for me.  I didn't imagine that I mattered that much to others.
That part is really great.  The hard part is late at night, when I can't sleep, and the pain is so bad that it makes your teeth sweat, and you wonder why God could do something like this to someone He loves.
I know we're all dying from the day we're born, but dying like this is not just a death...it's a torture and execution.
I suppose I should look at the good side.
Yesterday, I couldn't walk without assistance, and today, I walked  out of the hospital.
I don't have the frequency and bladder urgencey that I had before surgery (likely because that 2&1/2" tumor is not pressing against my bladder).
We are aware that cancer has been there, and we know to watch for it there again.  And I have really great friends who have been so supportive to me during this time.
I hope I can get through Chemotherapy as easily as the surgery.
It's been a hard haul, and I need more time to think about it before I write much more, so I'll likely write more tomorrow.
I think I'll have the time.
Janie is coming to Clairemont to clean tonmorrow, which is one of the only reasons that we could keep Lynn from trucking up here with dirt on her mind.  She so wants to be here and be helpful, but I don't need too much going on, and Janie and I work so well together.  Also, I don't have to provide Janie with a bed for the night.  Pete has already done that.
I don't know what all will happen, but I can promise that it will be a wild ride.
Keep on reading.