In an effort to dispel rumors and to avoid having to actually speak to
people - something I abhor and a great neurosis if your looking to pick
one up - I thought I'd summarize my recent bout with cancer.1
Beginning sometime in early August, as I lay in a fetal position on the floor, I became aware of a problem I was having physiologically. To successfully urinate I had to strain to such an extent that
Thankfully (or so I thought) a week later, while PuSHing, a small projectile lept from my penis into the shiny yellow bowl and all was forgotten. This was short-lived, for just a few days later tad-aah! I was physically unable to pee.
It was time for action, and while I ignored it, my wife (thank God) refused - immediately making an appointment with a the Doctor (we apparently have a doctor, very good, we'll call him DOC 'A').
Off to see the doc 'A'. Blood work. Check the doc's ring size. Pee in cup. Referred to urologist (Doc 'B'), and a CAT scan of my abdomen to be thorough. Go see urologist. Check his ring size. Big sale on rings.
Get CAT scan (have mild bout of claustrophobia while in the CAT scan machine). Go home. Return home. Immediately go to the bathroom and have no problem urinating.
Get a call from the doc 'A'. [very serious tone] "The radiologist saw something in your lung and we thought it best for you to go back and have another CAT Scan, this time of your chest". Me [oblivious to any potential problem] "O.K. cool...."
Have a second CAT scan. Have a more serious bout of claustrophobia. Scare the technician.
Doc 'A' calls, schedules something with lung Doctor (Doc 'C'). I require a bronchoscopy a biopsy, and a PET scan. Doc 'A' even more serious sounding. I remain completely aloof and ignorantly care-free (my wife, much smarter, not as care-free)
See doc 'C' (lung) Schedule bronchoscopy. Prior to falling asleep make rude comment having something to do with breath and ass. Have bronchoscopy. Go to have PET scan. Argue with secretary. Asked to leave hospital. Reschedule PET scan. Rude to secretary. Have PET scan.
Post "bronch", drooling all over myself in some hallway or the parking lot. Doc 'C' speaks to wife. Doc 'C' states with near certainty "Your husband has a malignant tumor in his right lung..." Doc 'C' leaves, the tests will be back in 2 days - super.
2 - (agonizing for my wife) for me only when she is successful in her endeavor to scare the crap out of me - days.
Visit doc 'C' to get results. A carcinoid is born. No malignancy but they have to take a lung.
Heather is overjoyed. I am also pleased - not so keen on the losing the lung part though.
Referred to surgeon. See surgeon. Schedule surgery. Have surgery.
Post surgery. ICU. 4 IV lines, foley catheter, chest tube. Super fun. Remain in hospital 4 days. Slept in chair. Watched TV. Kicked out of the cafeteria while walking with bag of urine and chest tube drainage on a poll. Baffled at reason for physical removal from cafeteria. (this is already too long or I would elaborate). If you know me, then just know its par for the course.
During surgery they removed the lower and middle lobe of my right lung. I'd show you a picture, but I don't have one. I now have 1.33 lungs. You only need 1 though, so its all good. Been out of the hospital for 5 days and all is well. So, I'm back home and will begin my work on faith soon.
If you want any more info on carcinoids, look it up. Or, take 10 pieces of bubble-gum. Chew them well. Take the wad out of your mouth. Now enhale it. You now have a carcinoid in your lung (or have choked to death)
Finally, I feel very blessed to have found Heather, my wife, and while I am as baffled as the rest of you as to why she ever married me, I thank God everyday - she is truly awesome - without her I would be much less of a person. My kids - as with all parents, are my world. My goal here was to provide a brief summary of my ordeal. You may continue to procrastinate, and put off all the those things you have, to date. Feel free to never tell the folks you care about how you feel, in fact be rude to them.
Beginning sometime in early August, as I lay in a fetal position on the floor, I became aware of a problem I was having physiologically. To successfully urinate I had to strain to such an extent that
- I was breaking blood vessels in my forehead
- I was making horrible grunting noises in the bathroom - scaring the children upstairs
- I would almost always be lucky enough to crap my pants (this came to be called P-u-SH-ing)
- Oh, and I was lying in a fetal position in agonizing pain
Thankfully (or so I thought) a week later, while PuSHing, a small projectile lept from my penis into the shiny yellow bowl and all was forgotten. This was short-lived, for just a few days later tad-aah! I was physically unable to pee.
It was time for action, and while I ignored it, my wife (thank God) refused - immediately making an appointment with a the Doctor (we apparently have a doctor, very good, we'll call him DOC 'A').
Off to see the doc 'A'. Blood work. Check the doc's ring size. Pee in cup. Referred to urologist (Doc 'B'), and a CAT scan of my abdomen to be thorough. Go see urologist. Check his ring size. Big sale on rings.
Get CAT scan (have mild bout of claustrophobia while in the CAT scan machine). Go home. Return home. Immediately go to the bathroom and have no problem urinating.
Get a call from the doc 'A'. [very serious tone] "The radiologist saw something in your lung and we thought it best for you to go back and have another CAT Scan, this time of your chest". Me [oblivious to any potential problem] "O.K. cool...."
Have a second CAT scan. Have a more serious bout of claustrophobia. Scare the technician.
Doc 'A' calls, schedules something with lung Doctor (Doc 'C'). I require a bronchoscopy a biopsy, and a PET scan. Doc 'A' even more serious sounding. I remain completely aloof and ignorantly care-free (my wife, much smarter, not as care-free)
See doc 'C' (lung) Schedule bronchoscopy. Prior to falling asleep make rude comment having something to do with breath and ass. Have bronchoscopy. Go to have PET scan. Argue with secretary. Asked to leave hospital. Reschedule PET scan. Rude to secretary. Have PET scan.
To elaborate a bit on the bronchoscopy, they don't hurt, you are fast asleep. What does hurt is the enormous Qtip they shove up your nose to - they say - numb something; but what feels a lot like a frontal lobotomy done via the nostril with shards of glass and a rusty ball of nails.
Post "bronch", drooling all over myself in some hallway or the parking lot. Doc 'C' speaks to wife. Doc 'C' states with near certainty "Your husband has a malignant tumor in his right lung..." Doc 'C' leaves, the tests will be back in 2 days - super.
2 - (agonizing for my wife) for me only when she is successful in her endeavor to scare the crap out of me - days.
Visit doc 'C' to get results. A carcinoid is born. No malignancy but they have to take a lung.
Heather is overjoyed. I am also pleased - not so keen on the losing the lung part though.
Referred to surgeon. See surgeon. Schedule surgery. Have surgery.
Here are some statements I remember. "Most painful surgery"; "...will be in very much pain"; "wouldn't wish this pain on anyone..."; "what an idiot.."
Post surgery. ICU. 4 IV lines, foley catheter, chest tube. Super fun. Remain in hospital 4 days. Slept in chair. Watched TV. Kicked out of the cafeteria while walking with bag of urine and chest tube drainage on a poll. Baffled at reason for physical removal from cafeteria. (this is already too long or I would elaborate). If you know me, then just know its par for the course.
During surgery they removed the lower and middle lobe of my right lung. I'd show you a picture, but I don't have one. I now have 1.33 lungs. You only need 1 though, so its all good. Been out of the hospital for 5 days and all is well. So, I'm back home and will begin my work on faith soon.
If you want any more info on carcinoids, look it up. Or, take 10 pieces of bubble-gum. Chew them well. Take the wad out of your mouth. Now enhale it. You now have a carcinoid in your lung (or have choked to death)
Finally, I feel very blessed to have found Heather, my wife, and while I am as baffled as the rest of you as to why she ever married me, I thank God everyday - she is truly awesome - without her I would be much less of a person. My kids - as with all parents, are my world. My goal here was to provide a brief summary of my ordeal. You may continue to procrastinate, and put off all the those things you have, to date. Feel free to never tell the folks you care about how you feel, in fact be rude to them.
I have one wife, four kids and a dwarf's hand full of friends. This hiccup in my health hasn't changed that. Hopefully it changes how I treat them.
1 Note: this is a re-post as I've been bored lately
Recent Comments