Outside perspective

Last Friday, Mary had a scheduled procedure to remove a ganglion cyst from her right index finger.  A ganglion cyst is also called a "Bible Bump" because a common cure used to be whacking it with a big book (almost everyone had a big Bible) but we could not bring ourselves to attempt this cure.  Dr. Hazle recommended a hand surgeon in his building, Dr. Marilee Mead.  Both Mary an I assumed it would be removed simply in a doctors office with local anesthesia so we were surprised to find out that it required a visit to the hospital and conscious sedation. 

We arrived at the hospital and checked in on the third floor discovered the receptionist had a volunteer trainee learning the ropes.  There was a funny moment as she escorted us to a different waiting room.  We were walking down a hallway and she belched out loud.  Mary, thinking it was me, shot a dirty look in my direction.  I returned my best, "It wasn't me it was her" look/shrug.  The trainee opted to pretend it hadn't happened at all.  It was only her second day so we cut her some slack.

So there at St. Mary's, Nurse Mary prepared my Mary for Dr. Marilee.  Kind of a theme there.

I found myself feeling a bit giddy being in the supportive role this time.  I was in a very familiar environment (the surgery was performed at the Lack's Center operating room) and all the waiting rooms, check-in personnel, forms and procedures were not at all foreign to me.  But this time I was the bystander to the  all of the pokes, weird dressing gowns and obligatory checklists of medical history.

The nurse inserted a slightly less than perfect I.V. (causing some bruising), we met the anesthesiologist who asured us that this operation would be much safer then getting into the car to drive to the hospital, and Mary got doped up with the first dose of the Versed before Dr. Mead entered the room to fill us in on the procedure.  She was a bit kooky (which I really like in a doctor). Mary was sleeping by the time they wheeled her out the door.

Mary was sleeping when they brought her back to the room about 40 minutes later.  She was roused and immediately asked the nurses who they liked for the Academy Awards. Apparently she had asked the same question in the O.R. and the consensus had been Daniel Day Lewis as Lincoln. Mary thought some of them surely would choose Bradley Cooper for Silver Linings Playbook.

Dr. Mead came in explained that the cyst had grown right through the middle of her tendon.  That was quite unusual as typically they would go to one side or the other.  Dr. Mead looked right at me and used a metaphor, "It went right between the fibers, you know, kind of like parting your hair". Suddenly she looked horrified and I realized that she was looking at my bald head and thinking that she had just committed a faux pas.  She was turning red and I found myself turning red too as I explained to her that I was familiar with the concept of parting hair.

All is healing up well now and Mary will have a cumbersome bandage for a week but on the bright side, she's finding that it gives her a very effective, "I have an idea" look.

Speaking of others who are currently suffering more than me, here is a follow-up on on my friend Bob Russell, who in my last post I told you about his esophageal cancer metastasizing to his brain, his current chemo regimen dispatching with his trademark beard, his daughter being diagnosed with cancer and his classic bed & breakfast inn on Mission Peninsula catching fire and destroying a big section of his home, business and belongings.  There was a community fundraiser to help him with expenses for some new off-insurance treatments and it was extremely successful.  He needed $3,000 and over $10,000 was raised.  Thanks to all those who contacted me to find out how they could contribute.

Bob and Sally at the concert fundraiser

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Northward Expedition

I’ve been slacking on my journaling. Chalk it up to lack of suffering. I need more grist to inform this artistic expression. So today I am reaching out to external forces. 

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you may remember meeting Bob Russell.  He was diagnosed with esophageal cancer about a year ahead of me and made the time to visit me on my first day of chemotherapy.  He was a great source of encouragement and wisdom for me.  I’d been thinking about him a lot lately and wondering how his treatments were working.  He does not really tell of his progress on Facebook (nor do I) but I could see by photos posted there that he had lost some weight.  I decided to make a long overdue trip up north to stay with my mom and dad and then make a side trip to the Mission Point peninsula, where Bob runs a bed & breakfast, on the way home.

After a Sunday morning, uneventful trip up to Glen Arbor, I arrived at Mom & Dad’s place and got to first spend some time with Mom alone as she prepared for a church function and then later some one-on-one time with Dad after he returned from watching an Opera at a Traverse City movie theater with his brother, Rich.  Dad enjoyed telling me about how he and Rich were pretty much alone in the theater and that was typically the case at this particular venue. (These are not the LIVE Metropolitan Opera performances that are well attended at the State Theater.) 

I took some time to analyze and then rewire their new television set-up so that they could watch VHS tapes in addition to DVDs.  Dad has a huge collection of opera performances on VHS.  We chatted a bit and then went over to Art’s Tavern for Dinner.  We split a delicious Michigan IPA, brewed in Kalamazoo.

Monday morning, we invited Rich (and my Aunt Alyce) over for a visit where I gabbed a little bit too much and then after we bid them adieu, my parents and I decided to check out the Leelanau Sands Casino and have lunch there.  I’d been hearing reports about how Dad had been gambling my inheritance away and thought I’d check out the experience first hand.

It was an absolutely beautiful drive up to Suttons Bay. I certainly “get” that part of the ritual.  We decided to have lunch first and we trotted over to the cafeteria where the soup and salad bar was highly recommended.  For 6 bucks each, we loaded up on salads, soups and ice cream sundaes and I have to say we were all highly satisfied with our meals.  (The Dutchman in me always laments the small stomach I now carry around in my chest, especially in the proximity of an all-you-can-eat buffet.)

As we left the dining area, a young girl chased me down to show me that I had dropped my iPod.  It felt so nice to have that sweet encounter with honesty right out of the gate.

On the walk over to the penny slots, Dad pointed out how the casino supplied all the coffee you could drink at no charge, as he helped himself to a cup.

The penny slots, I learned, are a gateway drug.  The bells and the lights point out when you are winning and it seems like every third or fourth pull returns a one or two cent return.  These particular games are based on a Draw Poker hand and if you should happen to be dealt an electronic Royal Flush, you could rake in 40 cents!  It can take a very long time to lose your whole dollar bill- Dad’s maximum investment per trip to the casino. When he is not wagering one-cent bets or enjoying hot coffee, he’s watching people; taking in the sights and the sounds.  I do feel like my inheritance is fairly safe.

On this trip, Dad was simply a kibitzer. He gave Mom and I each a dollar, showed us how the game worked, and then stood over our shoulders and cheered us on as a dealt pair turned into 3 of a kind with the draw.  I hovered around 80 cents for quite a long time and finally switched to nickel bets to make the totals go up and down faster.  I have to admit that the bigger bets were more fun.  Uh-oh!

The ride back to Glen Arbor was once again just glorious.  I quickly packed my bag, said goodbye and launched for Bob Russell’s place on Mission Peninsula.

I was low on gas but decided to fill up on the way back home since I was running late.  I was pleased to see that gas prices were comparatively quite low in Traverse City.  The drive up Mission Peninsula hugs the beach so it was an visually spectacular drive.  I envied Bob’s commute.

When I arrived at the Neahtawanta Inn, I saw Bob shoveling snow off the walk.  He was indeed skinnier but he was a sharp as ever.  I received the grand tour of the inn along with its renovation history.  A big group had just left and Sally decided to go cross-country skiing while Bob and I sat in the library and sipped hot tea.  I learned that Sally’s family also had a cottage on Glen Lake in Burdickville, very close to our family’s little piece of heaven on earth. At one point, he got up to feed the boiler with wood and he showed me how it heated all the rooms (with hot water).  It toggled to fuel oil overnight so they would not have to stoke it in odd hours.

Bob first showed me all the new things he was up to with video production and website building, all promoting healthy ecology.  We eventually got into a discussion about the progression of his cancer.  It had metastasized to his brain in two places and he was receiving chemo and radiation treatments.  The latter involved a plastic mesh facemask that was bolted to a platform for precisely placed radiation pulses.  He was unbelievably positive and optimistic and had been studying some new treatments; one that involves the Ebola virus as a chemo-delivery system and another that works by maximizing your own immune system.  He also regularly uses Chinese medicine and practices yoga.

Sally returned from her ski expedition.  Temperatures were rising and snow was turning to slush.  It was dusk and time for me to head back to Grand Rapids.  We vowed to stay in touch and I drove off energized by the encounter.  I quickly observed that during our 2-hour visit, gas prices had risen 30 cents per gallon.  I pondered the nature of time and transformation on my foggy ride home.

In a shocking postscript, I just learned that less than a week after that visit, the Inn had a devastating fire.  If you read this article, you can pick up on Bob’s incredible optimism in the face of multiple adversities.  You can also gather how much his community appreciates him.