Pathology

Two weeks post op & I have excellent news to share. The pathology report is back. The cancer was completely contained with in the kidney and all the margins were clean. So now I just have to wait 5 years to officially be cancer free. Recoverey has been slow but steady. I am currently recuperating in the mountains. Being this close to the earth in her more natural environment is wonderful. Every evening Tim and I take the dogs for a walk and even when it's been a challenging day, the walk feels like a little bit of normal is comming back. I'm 33 I *had cancer and I love my mountain recovery! Life is fragile. Say your I Love You's!

Blow by Blow of Surgery

Day 1 Pre- op…

There a party going on in my little pre-op curtain cubical.  I had Rhonda the pre-op nurse.  She was friendly while repeating a list of questions that she must repeat dozens of times a day.  She gave me an IV.  She was kind enough to use some lidocaine before she put in the 16 gauge tube.  I was grateful.  

Then came the anesthesiologists.  My procedure was done at a teaching hospital, so there are lots of ‘learners’.  1^st was the very handsome learning anesthesiologist who had a battery of questions and information, then came his teacher who wasn’t as cute, so didn’t make me feel so shy, with more of the same questions.  Then came ‘the lurkers’ as I came to call them i.e. the ‘urological residents’.  There were 2 of them there, neither of them I had met previously.  They were asking questions and very chatty, then came DR Wilson, their teacher, with a few words.  I inspected the resident’s hands; both of them had big hands.  I again asked DR Wilson if she would be the one to stick her hand in to remove the kidney. Next up was my operating room nurse who assured me she would be gentle when she put in my catheter.  I was apprehensive about the catheter, as my urethra until this point has been virginal.  Add to this mix my mother, who bless her heart was sort of in the way trying to be nurse Stevens instead of ‘mom’, my dad who was trying to stay out of the way while joking with the DR’s and Tim – who I think just really wanted a cup of coffee.  So the anesthesiologist makes me give my glasses to my mother and they get kicked out. I still have the staff.  Across the way there were an older man and a woman getting their pre-op party as well.  They were a father and daughter.  She was donating her Kidney to her dad.  As I begin to realize that is what is going on I feel weepy.  There is a woman giving life to her father across the way and I am loosing mine for no reason other than it’s full of abnormal cells.  I cry.  Rhonda attempts to be comforting, then the cute anesthesiologist pops back in and I really feel silly, that makes me cry more.  This makes him feel uncomfortable, bless anesthesiologists & CRNA’s they have a tough job, but let’s face it their patients are usually asleep, not blubbering, crying emotional wrecks.   So he looks at his teacher – Teacher jumps in with ‘if we need to’ blah blah blah, then cute student says once we get into the OR he will be inserting an ART line into my wrist so he can monitor my blood pressure through the procedure and he is going to give me something to make me calm.  I think the calming drug was to both of our benefits as I am a crying mess and we are both uncomfortable.  Off we head to the OR – He says he has given me calming meds, and asks how I feel.  I say something to the effect of ‘okay’.  The OR is BRIGHT!  I can feel the heat of the lights.  I say something about the lights, my OR nurse asks me to slide over to the operating table and poof that’s it.  Next thing I know I am in recovery.  I am begging my recovery nurse for water, she says no.  I say what about ice chips, she says no.  I am starting to really hate her.  I say what about swabs and she finally relents.  So at last my Sahara of a mouth is getting some relief.  She isn’t very forceful with the glycerin swab so I reach up and aid her hand in really getting at it.  She is asking me to give my pain a number, I am sure this isn’t the most pain I have ever had so I don’t say 10, I guess it at an 8 ½.  She gives me drugs and I lose some more time. Next thing I know we are back at the fight over some precipitation for my mouth.  She is attempting to explain I could get sick I keep assuring her I am not the least bit nauseated.  I get more glycerin swabbing, I still think I hate her.  I give my pain a 7 and poof more time gone.  Then my mom and dad and I think maybe Tim are there. I ask them for water and my mother somehow convinces the PACU nurse to try ice chips.  I am in heaven!   Then I ask my mom for my glasses, she tries to explain she forgot them and tried to go back for them and the staff wouldn’t let her.  I become irrationally upset.  I whine and pout.  Tim tells me she was anxious to get back to see me and I tell Tim I don’t care I want to punch her in her whole face, while using my pointer finger to circle my face, for forgetting my glasses.  I don’t have any reason for my reaction.  It’s not even like my eyes were that open.  I was acting like a total asshole.  In a sober mind physical violence isn’t where I go.  I don’t believe in it, I in fact despise it.

At some point I get my glasses & I am headed to my room.  I get to my room, I meet my floor nurse.  We move to the bed.  My nurse and another nurse move me up in my bed.  I cry.  I can’t remember the last time physical pain made me cry but this hurt like I can’t even explain.  I ask for water and a sprite.  The nurse gets me the best cup of icy cold water I have ever had in my life & Tim heads out to get me a sprite.  We go through the pain scale again.  I am now at about a 5 ½ to 6.  I get some IV morphine.  I look at my arms.  It looks like the quote from ‘Steel Magnolias’ someone has been driving nails into my arms.  There is dried blood all over my wrists and forearms.  One side is a blown ART line.  I guess Mr. Cutie pie anesthesiologist missed.  The other side isn’t as bruised or ugly; I am guessing he finally hit it. I also now have 2 IV ports, one on each side.

I drink my sprite.  Tim gives me a smooch and heads home.  He has to work the next day.  I sleep.  At some point Joy and my little people are there.  They bring me beautiful flowers.  Tim’s mom also sends a beautiful bouquet of flowers.  One of them has a lady bug glued to it.  I think they are awesome. 

 The little people I think are a bit shocked by my tubes and bruises and stuff.  I think I have to pee so the boys leave the room and I get up for the 1^st time.  OUCH again I cry.  I get to the bath room and I can’t remember how to urinate.  It won’t come.  I feel disconnected from my body.  I know I need to go but I can’t get it to start.  I decide to walk.  I walk up and down the hall with Joy and my little people.  It feels good to move.  I try to pee again.  No luck.  I get back into bed.  My pain is bad.  Typically they use PO (by mouth) Percocet and Vicoden to control pain, but I can’t take Percocet it makes me vomit and that is the LAST thing in the world I want to do.  Just the idea of vomiting makes me cringe in pain.  So I am getting 1mg of morphine every 2 hours and 2 Vicoden PO every 6 hours.  I am dozing the 1^st time the lurkers come - Hence their name.  They were just suddenly in the room lurking over me - 4 of them, asking me about pain and stuff.  Joy and my mom explain the pain & my inability to urinate.  So I get an order for 2mg of morphine every 2 hours and a straight cath.  I really wanted avoid being aware of any catheter, but I needed to get the urine OUT so the nurse does a bladder scan & then the strait cath.  I end up with like 800cc’s of output.  I fell much better.  Joy and the little people leave, and my night nurse comes on.  It’s a dude.  I am a little concerned about what happens if I can’t pee again.  I don’t want a dude to put in a catheter.  So the next time I have to pee I think by sheer power of will it comes!  I end up with another 600cc’s out. Hallelujah I can pee again!  It seems I may yet again become normal.   It was a long night.  I needed my injection every 2 hours to stay at about a level 4.  My mom tries to sleep.  I have to bang on things to get her to wake up to help me to the restroom.

Day 2

The lurkers come back in the morning we talk about my pain they change my meds to PO MSContin every 12 hours and 2 Vicoden every 6.  My Dr comes to visit.  We talk about the surgery.  I ask her why it hurts so much.  I hadn’t been prepared for it to hurt THIS much since it was a laparoscopic procedure.  She explains it’s because I am young.  I haven’t ever had any abdominal (gall bladder or appendix) surgery or any kids my insides were tight.  They used a lot of air to puff me up to get to where they needed to go.  She said everything went beautifully.  The surgery was faster than normal because I didn’t have any complications.  The kidney looked good from the outside and that leads her to believe that the cancer is entirely contained inside.  She says that she thinks the pathology will be just what we had previously discussed and all I will need to do is monitor it for 5 years.  She looks at my incisions and concludes those look beautiful too.  I think they look heinous but I am not a doctor so I trust her.  I get up to walk 4 times that day.  I am peeing on my own.  My BUN and creatinine tests are ugly.  I knew they would go up but wow they like LEAPED up.  I worry that my other kidney isn’t working.  I eat some food.  I am feeling more normal.  The PO meds are working much better and my pain is kept between a 2 and a 4.  The night is noisy, as my mother is curled up on her side (making me insanely jealous) snoring away.  By day 3 its time to come home, I get my BUN creatinine results from that morning and they are even more ugly than the day before.  The chief resident comes and explains the numbers will come back down.  It will take a little while for my remaining kidney to kick up from doing 50% of the work to about 80% of the work.  I am grateful to have had access to such a prestigious surgeon and medical facility.  It’s been a week and a day since Bertha was ousted.  I am starting to feel a whole bunch more normal.  My appetite is better and my innards are working properly.  I do not need nearly as much pain meds.  I still am not 100% but I’ve got a great start! 

I am 33 I HAD cancer and I am on the mend!

Life is fragile – Say your I Love You’s! 

Ugly Truths...

So I write this not only as a cathartic way to get out my own junk but on the slim chance someone I don't know will read it and find use for it.  (I intend on being blunt so please don't read if you have queezy tummy's)  So its time for the ugly truths.  Surgery hurts.  The medical folks give you opiates to combat the pain.  Opiates have a nasty side effect OIC, opiate induced constipation.  Basically your entire digestive systems shuts down.  Its normal peristalsis (movement of the muscles & hairs) stops.  This gets pretty painful.    No poop, no gas, not nothing for days.... So now I am having 2 different types of pain, gas & bloating plus the actual surgical procedure.  Another by product of OIC is that any food I consumed past a certain point, can't digest.  So yesterday I vomited dinner from Thursday.  Asparagus looks like green beans when it comes back to say hello. As if all this wasn't bad enough...wait I am also female, so what should show up now??  My period.  Now I have 3 different types of pain, menstrual, bloating & surgical.  I can not honestly say I don't know what pain it what. Its all very uncomfortable.  I am using the stuff that people are given before a colonoscopy to keep my digestive tract moving.... fun (*sarcastically*).  I think I may break out the heating pad for my poor uterus, and I keep ice on the incisions.  I keep thinking it's got to get better.  I just have got to get through this 1st week.  So I will keep doing what I am doing and think about the light at the end of the tunnel where my mid section feels normal again.

I am 33 I had cancer and my body is a wreck!

Life is fragile - Say your I Love You's!