Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Ablated updated

I've been through all the good drugs today keeping me sleepy, silly, itchy and pain-free. They're not letting me have solid foods yet so I have been cycling through all the hospital's clear liquid offerings; broth, jello, Popsicles, repeat. I had to ask, "Why no solid foods?" Apparently they don't want to risk my nausea causing me to puke. That would not be a good thing to be retching when you have a liver that's in a sensitive condition. But I really do feel great. Not much pain and good spirits.

I had a doctor whom I had not met before, slip into my room earlier and spent about 30 seconds telling me that the surgery went "beautifully". Her word. It is nice to know that the mass is now toasted, and therefore an impotent mass.

My job now is to relax for about a week. I think I can handle that.

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I wrote the above entry the evening of my surgery while sitting in a hospital bed.  I just realized that I forgot to hit the "publish" button, which explains all my family members checking in to see how things went. That was yesterday and today I am resting in the comfort of my home, falling asleep while watching documentaries on Netflix.

Right after I wrote that, Dr. Pimiento popped in and gave me a more detailed account (and also updated my chart to include solid foods).  He was a bit more reserved in his analysis about how things went.  He said the mass was a bit oblong and so he blasted it with two intersecting orbs of tissue death.  He also said that one of the wires did not heat up, probably due to the heat sink properties of a local artery.  He said we would check it in a month to see if another treatment would be required. 

Dr. Pimiento reappeared first thing in the morning to prepare my discharge papers.  When does that guy sleep?

One thing I forgot about surgeries and hospital stays is all the poking that happens... and bad poking.  They needed redundant IVs plus an arterial line and for some reason could not use my port.  The Nurse assigned to poke me before surgery failed in her first two attempts.  Thankfully, she called in someone else who managed a successful tap in the other arm and at that point the Anesthesiologist with a cool Russian accent stepped in and said she would do the other one after I was asleep.  At Lacks, you get regular heperin injections plus an early morning (as in 5:00 a.m.) visit from the hospital vampire charged with gathering blood samples.

Right before leaving, I had a surprise visit from Amy, the Lacks nutritionist who was making her rounds with an intern in tow.  She introduced me as her "fastest healing patient ever" and added that it was not an exaggeration.  She has never seen anyone respond better following major surgery and major chemo.  At least that is what she said.

Everyone was incredibly nice at the hospital and took care of all my little needs but it is good to be home.

4 comments:

TVZ said...

Hi Chuck. I'm probably about a second cousin of yours and a friend of your folks. I love your blog! Keep up the good work...
-Tom Van Zoeren

Big Red Dawg said...

Hang in the Chuck. I am with you on the "bad pokes" - one time during my recent spat with throat cancer this poor nurse (and I mean that in both senses of the word) went at my deflated arm 5 times. I was squirming all over the place.
The manner in which you face the ongoing challenges is amazing. You rock. (I am married to Julie DeVoe, met you briefly in the Swanson's back yard this year for the little concert.)

Laurie C. said...

Ok...a bit late in reading this...but glad you continue to blog. You are a super healing inspiration!

RMMcDowell said...

Chuck, it was good to see you at Cheshire Grill after Thanksgiving. I'm sorry that you're back on this road but, as always, I am encouraged and challenged by your positivity and good spirits. Take care of yourself, and have a blessed Christmas. You're in my prayers.

Beka