Morning in the cancer wing of Good Samaritan
Where to begin?
The pathology report came back and the cancer was confined to the prostate. It was also more aggressive than they originally thought making the early detection and treatment even more fortunate. What I write now is from the perspective of needing no further treatment.
Walking back from the sky bridge at the end of the hall, I passed a guy who had clearly been through the same procedure I had. Slow shuffles, battery powerred IV units in tow, as we passed each other he asked "Wanna race?" I don't pray very often but I'm praying right now, and with the same conviction I usually reserve for praying that state trooper didn't clock me at 75, that his report was as good as mine.
I'm crying alot. Not great heaving sobs of gratitude though those might be appropriate. I'm tearing up quite a bit. Could be the morphine. I like morphine. It's the bacon of pain killers. Everything is better with it. I had two really great nights of sleep thanks to those lovely little pills. I've cut myself back to half a dose this morning. Seems to keep the pain down fine and it doesn't knock me out.
I wish I could tell you what the surgery was like. I'm afraid the whole experience was like skipping to the next chapter on a dvd. I was talking to the anesthesiologist and commenting on the pretty industrial vibe of the operating theatre when someone hit "skip" and there was all this commotion and people asking how I was and I felt like I had to urinate really badly.
I'm at kind of a bad angle for typing so I'll fill in more of the details when I'm not recumbant in a hospital bed. I'm going to go home today. We'll see if I can take as good care of myself as the hospital did.
The pathology report came back and the cancer was confined to the prostate. It was also more aggressive than they originally thought making the early detection and treatment even more fortunate. What I write now is from the perspective of needing no further treatment.
Walking back from the sky bridge at the end of the hall, I passed a guy who had clearly been through the same procedure I had. Slow shuffles, battery powerred IV units in tow, as we passed each other he asked "Wanna race?" I don't pray very often but I'm praying right now, and with the same conviction I usually reserve for praying that state trooper didn't clock me at 75, that his report was as good as mine.
I'm crying alot. Not great heaving sobs of gratitude though those might be appropriate. I'm tearing up quite a bit. Could be the morphine. I like morphine. It's the bacon of pain killers. Everything is better with it. I had two really great nights of sleep thanks to those lovely little pills. I've cut myself back to half a dose this morning. Seems to keep the pain down fine and it doesn't knock me out.
I wish I could tell you what the surgery was like. I'm afraid the whole experience was like skipping to the next chapter on a dvd. I was talking to the anesthesiologist and commenting on the pretty industrial vibe of the operating theatre when someone hit "skip" and there was all this commotion and people asking how I was and I felt like I had to urinate really badly.
I'm at kind of a bad angle for typing so I'll fill in more of the details when I'm not recumbant in a hospital bed. I'm going to go home today. We'll see if I can take as good care of myself as the hospital did.
Comments
xoxoxo (and to Carolyn too)
Robin