It has been a long few months since I had a surprise visit with an ovarian cyst that landed me in the hospital in July. I posted a blog about that adventure that you can go back and read.
I then had a hysterectomy on August 3 that was no big deal. The wonderful di Vinci robot did the procedure. I went in the hospital on Wednesday, came home on Thursday, and was at church on Sunday. Fabulous little invention there. I highly recommend it! But the following Tuesday, I got THE phone call that would forever change my life. When your doctor calls you at home with idle chit chat, and then says "where is Mike?"-- you kind of get the feeling something is up. My reply was, "I'm not going to tell you because then you can't tell me that my pathology report came back positive." Then the phone call turned into my screams, wails, and some harsh words. Like it was his fault. My precious doctor just sat on the other end of the phone and let me get it all out. Even after I hung up on him, he waited a few minutes and called me back. I love my doctor!! After we finally finished the phone call, in which I vowed to climb in the bed and never get out and just die with my pillow over my head, I had to finish getting ready for the athletic sports pep rally at the school that was about to start. Life goes on. Of course there was no time to tell Mike because we had to leave for the pep rally a few minutes after he got home from work. I won an academy award that night. I was Meryl Streep at the pep rally. Wish I had been Jennifer Anniston, Meryl has a crooked nose.
I made arrangements for Dr. Chaney and Bro. Sammy to come to the house Wednesday morning to tell Mike. I just couldn't look my husband in the eye and say, "I have cancer". They both did a beautiful job helping us through that difficult time. Before they left we circled up and Dr Chaney prayed the most beautiful prayer for us. Amen! Then Mike went back to work. Life goes on.
That Thursday night at the opening season game football game, I am still in my Academy Award winning mode. And with 2 plays left in the game, Parker rolled his ankle and ended up having surgery the following week. No driving for 6 weeks. When it rains it pours. But life goes on.
I went to Baptist hospital in Columbus and had a CT scan on Friday. Everything looked clear. I had to have some dye injected in me before the scan started. During the dye injection and the scan, I couldn’t stop crying. I was alone and scared to death. Poor X-ray tech kid, I think I scared him to death. He was crying too before I got done. Hahaha.
The following Tuesday, Mike and I went to UAB in Bham to see Dr. Max Austin to discuss specifics and a treatment plan. We had told no one anything because we had no details to tell. Details: the path report of the hysterectomy showed I had two primary cancers, a very unusual finding. Primary means it started there, and did not spread to there, which would be called secondary. I had Uterine Stage one, and ovarian stage 2. All was hopefully removed with the hysterectomy. Dr Austin suggested 6 chemo treatments as standard procedure for this. He would talk with the cancer board the following week to confirm his suggestion.
When we left Dr. Austin's office we walked across the street and told Callie. When we quit crying, guess what we did? Went shopping, of course. I got a fabulous wig at the same store she got hers. It was fun, except for that crying part in the store. We pretty much embarassed ourselves with our laughing and crying.
Then Mike and I came back to Columbus and made the rounds to tell our family and a few friends. The more I said it, the easier it got and I felt empowered for those words to come out of my mouth. I had to be strong when I told my family, so I was convincing myself that I was strong, and that all this was going to be ok.
That night we shared our news with Parker. That went surprisingly well. I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe a little emotion, or a tear or two, but he was in a hurry to get back to the TV to make sure Hope Solo didn't get kicked off Dancing with the Stars.
Parker had his ankle surgery the next morning. I think I accidentally hit some potholes driving him home. And I think I got confused on his pain medications and gave them to him every eight hours, instead of every four hours. Whoops, my bad. Maybe he'll shed at least one tear for me next time. hahaha. KIDDING!
The following week Dr Austin called and said the cancer board recommended that I should have exploratory surgery to make sure nothing had spread. I was in the middle of teaching a class when he called. Of course I was pretty shaken by this change of direction. My students (adults) noticed the shock on my face. One student asked if everything was ok. After a few seconds of hesitation, I took a deep breath and said "No, but it's gonna be". And with the next breath, I started teaching again, right where I had left off. Life goes on.
Exploratory surgery was Thursday, September 15. All I remember about that was that I was asking for Mike when I woke up. I kept telling the Nurses that I needed him. They said that he could not come in the room yet. So I insisted over and over again that they tell him I love him. The nurses kept trying to calm me down, but I was being insistent. Imagine that. Me being insistant? Finally one of the nurses said she would take care of it. I remember telling her to hurry. I heard her go into the hallway and relay my message to Mike. That made me happy. I told her thank you when she came back in the room. Anesthesia will make a person do some crazy stuff. My pain didn't matter, I just wanted my sweetie pie.
I would like to make a few comments about my 3 day stay at the hospital (brookwood). First, the toilets are child size. I am a woman of mature age (old). Most women my age have knee trouble. I have double knee trouble. So it is next to impossible to squat on the baby toilet with bad knees, and with fresh abdominal surgery to boot. If you are ever actually able to sit all the way down, you need a forklift to get you back up again. WHAT WERE THEY THINKING!! I told every nurse that came in the room how I felt about the short toilets. I want a high rise.
Next, this hospital thought they were improving customer service when they allowed patients to call in their meal to the dietary service from a menu. You had a window of about 1 hour before every meal, to call in your selection. And for heaven’s sake, don't call it in early. They don't accept early calls, or late calls. It must be within the one hour window. And you had to do this 3 times every day. If you missed the window of time, you missed your meal. If you happened to run late because you happened to be stuck in the bathroom because you can't squat because you had abdominal surgery and 29 staples, and have 2 bad knees trying to use a mini-toilet, too bad. Maybe you can catch them on the next opportunity. WHAT WERE THEY THINKING?
My last comment about the fabulous hospital is that they did a nice job making the rooms look nice, BUT. . . when you try to use regular bedroom furniture in a hospital room, sometimes it just doesn't work. Specifically, the bedside table was too low. Imagine being at a normal height in a hospital bed and trying to reach the phone which is on a small 2-drawer regular bedroom side drawer. There was no way that was happening. And I really had a hard time reaching into the top drawer to pull the meal menu out to call in my meal order. With fresh abdominal surgery, rolling over and reaching over the bedrail was not an option.
By the way, the doctors saw no red flags during my surgery, and all 14 pathology biopsies that were taken ALL CAME BACK NEGATIVE!!!! Can you hear my screaming? Praise God from whom all blessings flow. The first person I called to tell, was my mother who was in the hospital very ill. About 1 hour later, she took all the strength she had and called me back and said: "Judy, Don't jump too high for joy about your good news. You'll hurt your belly." ha ha ha ha My sweet mother. . . . I told her that I wasn't going to jump for joy, but my mouth was sore from grinning about the good news. I love my mama.
Mike forced me to sit up, get up, and walk the day after surgery. I didn’t love him as much on Friday as I did on Thursday. I resisted, and cried, and screamed in pain. But he patiently helped me move inch by inch. He was relentless with me, patiently relentless. He had me walking the halls Saturday morning. The doctor was so impressed with my mobility that they released me on Saturday afternoon. That was almost unheard of. I think Mike’s motivation was to get home to his own bed because the vinyl couch in the hospital room was a little small and uncomfortable. Imagine that.
My motivation to get home was my mother. She had been admitted to the Columbus hospital on the day I left for Birmingham. Her 80th birthday was going to be on Sunday, and so Saturday I worked really hard to get home to see her on her birthday. And I did!!!
The week after I got home, I continued to recover fabulously. I had a very active week. And I had some fabulous meals from some great friends. As a matter of fact, when I got home from Birmingham I was surprised with a two week schedule of meals to be delivered to me. ARE YOU KIDDING? How awesome was that?
At some point during the week, I had a hormonal moment and wanted my hair cute. Right then. Immediately. Or I was going to cut it myself. Have you ever had that feeling? I called a local salon and begged them to work me in (seriously begged). They graciously complied. I called my friend Sylvia to come give me a ride since I wasn't supposed to drive yet. Got my hair cut. It was a little shorter than I wanted, but everyone said it was cute. Aren't you supposed to always say that to a woman with a new hair cut? Always always tell her how cute her hair looks. I don't know why I even cared since it is all going to fall out in a few weeks anyway. I've had a lot of hormonal moments lately. Poor Mike.
On Saturday, one week after I came home, I got a virus. Where did that come from? Saturday afternoon I started feeling queasy. By 4 pm, I was in full blow virus mode, hugging the toilet. Take my word on this—violent heaving, while having 29 staples in your tummy is no easy task. It takes the heart of a champion to do that. And I won the gold medal.
I was so sick from Saturday afternoon until Sunday morning about 4:00. No nausea meds would work, and trust me I tried them all. During the night, I was in so much pain it was unbearable. At one point, Mike was trying to sleep on the sofa in the den and came to the bedroom to ask me to please “hold it down” because he could hear me moaning all the way in the den and he couldn’t sleep, and he was worried that I was going to wake Parker up. Are you kidding? I told him I would try to moan quieter so he could get some rest. I sure did not want to inconvenience anyone. Ha ha ha ha ha Finally at 4 a.m. I told Mike to call me an ambulance. Ambulance? he said. YES, an ambulance!!!! I NEED AN AMBULANCE, NOW!!!! It’s just three little numbers: 9-1-1. You would have thought that I had just asked him to sing and dance at the Superbowl halftime show. Mike brought me a Benadryl and said, “try this, I think it is supposed to help with nausea.” When I refused, he said “Let’s call the doctor one more time, and see if they have any other suggestions”. I said “I have a suggestion, Call me an ambulance!!!” He finally relented, but told them to keep their flashing lights off because it wasn’t an emergency. Are you kidding me? If I ever tell you I need an ambulance, trust me, it is an emergency. Come get me NOW. (By the way, I have the most wonderful husband in the world. I love him beyond any words. But sometimes, men will just be men.)
The ambulance ride was interesting. The lights on the inside are very bright. I felt like I was going to fall off the stretcher when they were taking me down the steps of my house to load me up. A ride in an ambulance was not something I had on my bucket list. But it was worth it to get a shot of morphine, and to by-pass the waiting room. Here’s my new opinion of ambulances: It’s the only way to go. Sam and Darryl are my new Bffs. I didn't open my eyes in the ambulance. I didn't really want to see the inside. I was afraid it would scare me, or make me feel like a really sick person. So I just kept them shut and tried to imagine which route we were taking. I didn't figure it out, I was very confused. We only live one mile from the hospital, so it wasn’t a very long trip. But I did feel like a VIP, like I was riding in first class. By the way, Parker slept through all of this. He never knew it happened.
After running some tests in the Emergency room, it was determined that I didn’t have a virus, but a blocked intestine or bowel obstruction. What? How did that happen? The emergency room doctor explained to me that I would need a tube in my stomach to keep my tummy pumped until the obstruction worked itself out, or else I would need surgery. Innocent me said, how are we going to get a tube in my stomach? To which he replied, "through your nose." ARE YOU KIDDING ME? But before I had time to protest and complain a BIG man, who I am sure was a former member of the WWF, was in my room with a tube in his hand. He was a fast talker, Barking instructions and commands at me so fast that I couldn't comprehend what he was saying. I just started yelling for some twilight/ pain/ relax drugs. He said "I've got something right here to relax you", so he put that in my IV. Thank you very much, Mr. WWF. Now we just need about 15 minutes for them to work, is what I was thinking. But no time to waste for Mr WWF. The next thing I know, there is a huge tube at the edge of my nose and Mr WWF is screaming "Swallow Swallow Swallow". All the while, I am screaming "STOP STOP STOP". But he didn't, and before I knew it there was a big tube being shoved up my nose and down into my tummy, and it hurt bad, real bad. So there I am, tube hanging out of nose, looking beautiful.
In the past when I see people at a hospital with a tube coming out of their nose, I turn my head because I can't stand to look at it. Now, I am them. And by the way, the twilight /relax meds finally kicked in --- 15 minutes later.
By this time, it was mid-morning on Sunday. Me and my nose tube were finally admitted to the hospital. I requested a room on 3rd floor so I could be near my mother, but my doctor keeps all his patients on 4th floor, so that didn’t work out. Do you know what the nose tube fluid looks like? YUCK!!!! I had several visitors on Sunday after church. I was obviously delirious with medications because I let them enter the room and see me with a tube hanging out my nose. As a matter of fact, later Sunday afternoon I decided I wanted to see my mother on 3rd floor. I let my friend Janet load me in a wheel chair and take me to see my mother. Nose tube and all. WHAT WAS I THINKING? We rolled through the hospital halls with her pushing me in the wheel chair, and me pushing an IV pole in front. We laughed and laughed and laughed. I visited my sick mother for about 5 minutes and rolled up beside her bed and chatted with a tube hanging out my nose. What was I thinking? I blame Janet for not explaining to me what I was doing. Obviously the pain medications made me have a lack of common sense. But what was Janet’s excuse? I would like to publicly apologize to anyone in the hallways of Baptist Hospital that saw me with a tube hanging out my nose. I’m sure your life will never be the same. I know my won’t.
By Monday, the pain meds had worn off and I had come to my senses. So I covered my head up with a sheet and cried all day long. When Mike came to see me after work, I made him leave. I didn’t want him to see me like that. I wouldn’t even let one of our church pastors in the room to see me. Sorry, Kenny. Thanks for coming to see me, but me with a nose tube just isn’t my best look.
At some point on Monday, the Tech who was supposed to give me a sponge bath came into room and told ME to get my pole and push it into bathroom. Excuse me, did she not notice the tube hanging our my nose? I guess no one told her I also had 29 staples in my tummy. So I got out of bed and pushed my pole to the bathroom door with one hand, while the other hand held the weight of the nose tube. I stopped when I got to the bathroom door because the pole wouldn't go over the floor hump into the bathroom. The tech said "push it on in" , I replied " I can't because of the hump in the floor". She replied, “you need to try harder cuz I got my hans full wit yo bat water". EXCUSE ME? Put the water down and push my pole over the hump for me!!!! I am the patient and I have a nose tube!! So I pushed harder and got it over the hump. Now I am in the tiny bathroom with me, Mrs. Attila the Hun, the nose tube, and the pole. She washed my back and told me to finish up, and here's a towel. Good help is just hard to find these days.
My blockage cleared up on Tuesday afternoon, and I was released to go home Tuesday night. By Wednesday morning I was back at the hospital visiting my mother, and I was feeling great.
I continued to recover from my exploratory surgery remarkably well. I had a checkup in Birmingham on Tuesday, October 11 at 3 p.m. I left early in the day so I could squeeze in a little shopping at the Galleria. I was so relaxed when I got to Dr. Austin's office. I had such a great time just browsing at the mall. It had been a long time since I had been to the Galleria. When I signed in at Dr. Austin's office, the two receptionists looked at each other oddly, then back at me oddly. Then one of them broke the news to me: my appointment was scheduled for 10 a.m., not 3 p.m., and Dr. Austin was gone for the day. WHAT? WHAT? You've got to be kidding. I am the queen of organization. I am the queen of schedules. The queen of the calender. Just ask my family. How could this happen to me, of all people? I almost melted into the floor. The sweet receptionists saw how devestated I was and got everyone in the office busy tracking down Dr. Austin for me. Wah-Lah. He appeared!!! And sweetly took time to see me. I love his staff, and him. I was so embarassed. I bet I apologized a thousand times.
Callie came to his office and tried to help me listen to all of the fancy medical stuff he was saying. Bottom line.. . . .He was so impressed with my recovery from exploratory surgery, that he said I could start my treatments in a few days instead of in November. HUM. . . . not exactly what I wanted to hear. But life goes on. So my first treatment was schedule for October 20. I'll give you a detailed account of that in the next blog. I'm as tired of writing as you are of reading.
Through all of this, we have felt the prayers that our friends have given on our behalf. I have been added to the prayer lists of churches in Columbus and in other areas. It is a humbling feeling. I have asked friends and family to join me as we laugh and pray our way through this.
Proverbs 17:22 "A joyful heart is good medicine."
Just as a reminder, as I close, don't think badly of someone you pass in the hallway at the hospital with a tube hanging out of their nose filled with brown gunk. That could be you someday. Been there, done that!
