Kris and I drove down to Duke Tuesday night for pre-op appointments
Wednesday. As if you didn’t know getting sick is a full time job. The
freakin’ paper work and if I have my blood pressure checked one more
time I’m gonna scream. At least the book I’m reading while I’m waiting
to subject myself to all of this is finally starting to get good.
Nothing like being at a cancer center for eight hours of soul crushing
anguish as the children go by in wheel chairs, the patients with strange
growths on their faces and incisions in their heads walk by or sit idly
awaiting their fate, but hey at least the carpets are nice. And oh the
soul affirming poetry they frame and post on the wall miss the mark by a
wide margin and reek of morbidity but then again that’s just me
slapping my forehead….uplifting is in the eyes of the maudlin. Take my
blood, take my money, take my signature, give me the worst case scenario
you know because of litigation and get me the hell out of here. All I
could think of going through pre-op and admission was my cat when I took
her to the vet. Looking for a way out Sylvia jumped into a window and
tried to make a break for it – smart cat – she pressed up against the
screen just as hard as her little body would let her. Beyond that screen
was fresh air and an open field on a beautiful sunlit day. Who could
blame her I know how she feels.
That’s my girl giving it her all – happy cat indeed!
So four hours of surgery, two surgeons, several scars, pig skin or some strangers cadaver skin, three nights in the hospital followed by 6 weeks of recovery which might include self-injections – you know just for fun, and oh yeah there’s a 50/50 chance your wound won’t heal and you’ll need a third surgery. Apparently the irradiated tissues on the inside of my body may not bind back together. There it all is down and dirty folks in case you ever have to go through it and some of you have.
Sorry no happy rah, rah talk about how everything is going to be all right – its surgery time and I’m not so happy rah, rah about having to go under and we might knock your teeth out or give you brain damage – you know the legal folks make us say that – but god forbid you’re the .0001% that this happens to and you wonder why people worry – because it is a big deal.
I’m actually in a better frame of mind than all of the above but that’s what you go through folks and there is no reason to pretend otherwise. You all better keep in touch with Kristine because she won’t have anybody at the hospital with her and if you don’t appreciate what she will be going through then dig around a little deeper in the back of your closet to find your heart.
The Rolling Hills of the Piedmont are simply beautiful – if you find out I didn’t make it to Duke I’ve jumped out of the car and will be running through them.
Paul
That’s my girl giving it her all – happy cat indeed!
So four hours of surgery, two surgeons, several scars, pig skin or some strangers cadaver skin, three nights in the hospital followed by 6 weeks of recovery which might include self-injections – you know just for fun, and oh yeah there’s a 50/50 chance your wound won’t heal and you’ll need a third surgery. Apparently the irradiated tissues on the inside of my body may not bind back together. There it all is down and dirty folks in case you ever have to go through it and some of you have.
Sorry no happy rah, rah talk about how everything is going to be all right – its surgery time and I’m not so happy rah, rah about having to go under and we might knock your teeth out or give you brain damage – you know the legal folks make us say that – but god forbid you’re the .0001% that this happens to and you wonder why people worry – because it is a big deal.
I’m actually in a better frame of mind than all of the above but that’s what you go through folks and there is no reason to pretend otherwise. You all better keep in touch with Kristine because she won’t have anybody at the hospital with her and if you don’t appreciate what she will be going through then dig around a little deeper in the back of your closet to find your heart.
The Rolling Hills of the Piedmont are simply beautiful – if you find out I didn’t make it to Duke I’ve jumped out of the car and will be running through them.
Paul
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