I hope regular readers of this blog will pardon my lack of posts this past week. An unexpected bout of melancholy left me a bit listless and uninspired to write. It was as if I was hearing my mother's often-repeated mantra, "If you haven't got something good to say, don't say anything at all." Mom's guidance was aimed at preventing hurtful comments about others, but I didn't want to give credence to my blahs by writing about them.
A couple of outings on my own over the weekend helped coax me into a more positive perspective. With the doctor's clearance, I drove for the first time in more than five weeks, visiting my mother on Saturday and driving to church yesterday. It was great to get out and feel almost normal again! And the hugs at church certainly helped!
Part of my malaise last week can be attributed to unexpected frustrations with the recuperation process. I had anticipated my biggest challenge as the pain subsided and I began feeling better would be pacing myself and not overdoing. Instead, it has been a battle to keep from napping too much during the day so I could sleep better at night. Being unproductive for such a long stretch is against my nature, and it was a little scary to not even want to do much more than nap or read.
My outlook is brighter now. I am planning to get out a bit more this week -- even if some of the trips are for follow-up medical tests -- and I plan to return to work for half-days the following week. Naps are great but I am ready to trade them for a little more active days and some better nights' sleep. A return to more of my old routine -- including more regular blog posts! -- might be just the tonic I need.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Marathon
The sun is dazzling and temperatures outside have climbed past 60 degrees, but I am struggling to feel as jubliant as I'd like. A visit today with a new oncologist reminded me that this journey is far from over; that I must prepare myself for more twists and turns down the road.
Physically, my discomfort from the surgery is subsiding to the point that I am taking pain pills only at night. My energy level is getting better, too, although naps are still a part of most days. The better I feel, the better I want to feel, and the harder it is to consider that more chemotherapy or radiation may be in store in coming weeks.
The doctor Tom and I saw today specializes in sarcomas. We were pleased with the thoroughness of his approach, which will require more tests in coming weeks. The outcome of those tests and consultations with other physicians will determine whether a new course of action may be needed to fight any residual cancer or guard against a recurrence.
While I am extremely thankful to have access to vigilent care, there is also part of me that is ready to be done with doctors. I just need to remember not to wish them away too soon and to let them help me reach the finish line. As I recall from my first cancer fight almost 13 years ago, the scary part is not when the doctors are still engaged but when the treatment is over, and you pray it was enough. For now, I am content to stay in the race.
Physically, my discomfort from the surgery is subsiding to the point that I am taking pain pills only at night. My energy level is getting better, too, although naps are still a part of most days. The better I feel, the better I want to feel, and the harder it is to consider that more chemotherapy or radiation may be in store in coming weeks.
The doctor Tom and I saw today specializes in sarcomas. We were pleased with the thoroughness of his approach, which will require more tests in coming weeks. The outcome of those tests and consultations with other physicians will determine whether a new course of action may be needed to fight any residual cancer or guard against a recurrence.
While I am extremely thankful to have access to vigilent care, there is also part of me that is ready to be done with doctors. I just need to remember not to wish them away too soon and to let them help me reach the finish line. As I recall from my first cancer fight almost 13 years ago, the scary part is not when the doctors are still engaged but when the treatment is over, and you pray it was enough. For now, I am content to stay in the race.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Field visit
During my eight-day hospital stay for surgery and recovery, a co-worker quipped that it was just an extended field visit, given that certain Ohio Hospital Association staff regularly visit our member hospitals throughout the state. Consider this, then, my field visit report for OSU Medical Center.
Top concerns: From the perspective of the front-line staff I encountered at all hours of the day, it was apparent that their patients are their foremost concern. Despite the 12-hour shifts most of them worked, I didn't hear nurses or patient care assistants complain about being tired or that patients were too demanding. Instead, they were accommodating and mostly cheerful while going about their business. Their supreme patience with patients was apparent even when a fellow in the next room over could be heard calling out repeatedly in a low monotone reminiscent of the old Saturday Night Live "Land Shark" skits, "Help. Help me. I need help. I need ice cream. I need a Coke."
Given the activity I witnessed once I was able to walk the full length of my floor and back down the parallel hallway, business was booming. Empty patient rooms were the exception; nor did there seem to be any wasted space. The big question is whether the mix included more patients with insurance to cover their costs or those with little or no means to pay the bill. Nothing in the activity I witnessed gave away which was which.
I had scant opportunity to review the hospital food, spending most of my stay nourished solely by intravenous fluids until the tube to my stomach was removed. The ice chips I was finally able to savor were magnificent! The bland soft diet that immediately followed was less satisfying, but there's only so much you can do with cream soup and custard.
This was not a field visit I ever care to repeat, but it left me with renewed pride and devotion for OHA's mission to help Ohio hospitals serve their communities. Their work is truly on the side of angels.
Top concerns: From the perspective of the front-line staff I encountered at all hours of the day, it was apparent that their patients are their foremost concern. Despite the 12-hour shifts most of them worked, I didn't hear nurses or patient care assistants complain about being tired or that patients were too demanding. Instead, they were accommodating and mostly cheerful while going about their business. Their supreme patience with patients was apparent even when a fellow in the next room over could be heard calling out repeatedly in a low monotone reminiscent of the old Saturday Night Live "Land Shark" skits, "Help. Help me. I need help. I need ice cream. I need a Coke."
Given the activity I witnessed once I was able to walk the full length of my floor and back down the parallel hallway, business was booming. Empty patient rooms were the exception; nor did there seem to be any wasted space. The big question is whether the mix included more patients with insurance to cover their costs or those with little or no means to pay the bill. Nothing in the activity I witnessed gave away which was which.
I had scant opportunity to review the hospital food, spending most of my stay nourished solely by intravenous fluids until the tube to my stomach was removed. The ice chips I was finally able to savor were magnificent! The bland soft diet that immediately followed was less satisfying, but there's only so much you can do with cream soup and custard.
This was not a field visit I ever care to repeat, but it left me with renewed pride and devotion for OHA's mission to help Ohio hospitals serve their communities. Their work is truly on the side of angels.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Three red robes
I have three red robes, and they are each perfect in their own way. My mom and sister were a bit distressed recently when they bought me a new red robe -- not knowing about the other two -- to go with some comfy new pajamas for my convalescence. They thought maybe they should exchange it when they saw me wearing one of the others, but I wouldn't hear of it.
My oldest red robe is a long silk number that is as comfortable as it is sentimental. A friend was traveling to China years ago and Tom gave him money to bring back something for me. It is always a nice reminder that Tom and our mutual friend were thinking of me. The silk robe has lasted forever because I use it mostly as a special travel robe, since it packs so lightly and compact.
Next came a long plush robe that was at least a size too big when I bought it, and now that I'm even smaller, it is probably two sizes larger than I need. But that just provides extra warmth to wrap myself in when it's cold outside. It was an impulse purchase several years ago when I was supposed to be Christmas shopping for others but couldn't resist the great sale price. I still smile when it reminds me that sometimes you just have to buy a present for yourself.
The newest red robe is a bit shorter and is made of the same soft, stretchy cotton knit fabric as are the new gray pajamas. It doesn't hurt that the ensemble is in my favorite Buckeye colors, but the nicest feature is the lighter weight, old-T-shirt-soft material, perfect for the warmer weather on the way.
My three red robes are no more redundant to me than are three children in some families. Each one is special for its own unique qualities.
My oldest red robe is a long silk number that is as comfortable as it is sentimental. A friend was traveling to China years ago and Tom gave him money to bring back something for me. It is always a nice reminder that Tom and our mutual friend were thinking of me. The silk robe has lasted forever because I use it mostly as a special travel robe, since it packs so lightly and compact.
Next came a long plush robe that was at least a size too big when I bought it, and now that I'm even smaller, it is probably two sizes larger than I need. But that just provides extra warmth to wrap myself in when it's cold outside. It was an impulse purchase several years ago when I was supposed to be Christmas shopping for others but couldn't resist the great sale price. I still smile when it reminds me that sometimes you just have to buy a present for yourself.
The newest red robe is a bit shorter and is made of the same soft, stretchy cotton knit fabric as are the new gray pajamas. It doesn't hurt that the ensemble is in my favorite Buckeye colors, but the nicest feature is the lighter weight, old-T-shirt-soft material, perfect for the warmer weather on the way.
My three red robes are no more redundant to me than are three children in some families. Each one is special for its own unique qualities.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Crazy cactus
Some things have their own schedules, not to be influenced by what we want to happen or what we think should happen. I have a cactus with a mind of its own. It is called a Christmas cactus, and when I bought it close to the holidays several years ago, it was full of pinkish blooms that reached their peak around Christmas.
Since then, it has followed a more erratic schedule that sometimes produces blooms but more often just offers up seemingly healthy but barren branches. Now that Christmas is long past and Easter is approaching, it has decided to work up a single, white flower. It appears to be on track to bloom well before Easter, so I'm guessing the solitary blossom this year may come in honor of our wedding anniversary next week, when Tom and I celebrate 35 years of marriage!
My recovery has a schedule of its own as well. I am moving toward renewed energy and good health as steadily as the cactus bud, but this process also is not about to be rushed. Naps are still needed. Small, frequent meals are more appetizing than eating as much as I used to at one sitting. Walks are getting longer, and thankfully, some have been taken outdoors with the weekend's warmer weather.
Wishing it so will not hurry my healing, but I can see it happening with the sureness of watching an unexpected blossom fatten up and prepare to unfold.
Since then, it has followed a more erratic schedule that sometimes produces blooms but more often just offers up seemingly healthy but barren branches. Now that Christmas is long past and Easter is approaching, it has decided to work up a single, white flower. It appears to be on track to bloom well before Easter, so I'm guessing the solitary blossom this year may come in honor of our wedding anniversary next week, when Tom and I celebrate 35 years of marriage!
My recovery has a schedule of its own as well. I am moving toward renewed energy and good health as steadily as the cactus bud, but this process also is not about to be rushed. Naps are still needed. Small, frequent meals are more appetizing than eating as much as I used to at one sitting. Walks are getting longer, and thankfully, some have been taken outdoors with the weekend's warmer weather.
Wishing it so will not hurry my healing, but I can see it happening with the sureness of watching an unexpected blossom fatten up and prepare to unfold.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Turning the corner
Sleep and water are miracle drugs. Today I am three weeks out from my surgery and, for the first time, I can say I am feeling good.
Last night I had stretches of sleep that lasted more than two hours, which was wonderful. And yesterday and today I was able to take real showers! I had been making do with sink baths, but there's nothing like standing under the shower head and just letting the water run down.
Tuesday's follow-up visit with my surgeon set me up for making these big strides of improvement. The staples running up the middle of my abdomen were removed, as was the drain on my right side. Losing those last remnants of the surgery was like having a booster rocket kick in to push me ahead in my healing.
It was also good to hear the doctor say that I am making better progress than many who have had a similar surgery, although it is sad to know that others might have a tougher go of it. My path has been tough enough, thank you.
My challenge now is to not get too carried away and overdo so that I can continue to regain my strength. Tom is watching over me carefully to make sure that doesn't happen. He knows me too well.
Last night I had stretches of sleep that lasted more than two hours, which was wonderful. And yesterday and today I was able to take real showers! I had been making do with sink baths, but there's nothing like standing under the shower head and just letting the water run down.
Tuesday's follow-up visit with my surgeon set me up for making these big strides of improvement. The staples running up the middle of my abdomen were removed, as was the drain on my right side. Losing those last remnants of the surgery was like having a booster rocket kick in to push me ahead in my healing.
It was also good to hear the doctor say that I am making better progress than many who have had a similar surgery, although it is sad to know that others might have a tougher go of it. My path has been tough enough, thank you.
My challenge now is to not get too carried away and overdo so that I can continue to regain my strength. Tom is watching over me carefully to make sure that doesn't happen. He knows me too well.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Baby steps
I feel terrible that it has been almost a week since I last posted any updates, but that's probably as good an indication as any what slow progress this is to get better. The good news is most days are a little better than the day before. Better in this case might be that the pain is a little more bearable, or I'm able to walk a little longer.
Walking is my only exercise right now, so it is important to do it, but how many times can you stroll through the house without wanting to scream out of boredom? Not many, but I don't have the energy to scream.
So I plod on. I start in the kitchen with a glance at the clock to mark the time, then head through the dining room, into the living room, out past the front door and around to the family room. Then I retrace my steps, circling the table in front of the living room sofa and the dining room table an extra time or two just to add a few more steps and take time off the clock. If I feel up to talking and walking at the same time, I call my mom or a sister or my daughter so I can get lost in conversations with them and not have to think about every step.
Was it just last September when my idea of a good workout was running 40 minutes on the treadmill at the gym? And just last summer Mandy and I were walking miles and miles together through Gahanna neighborhoods as we prepared for a half-marathon that subsequently had to be put on hold.
I know I'll get back to running and walking long distances again, but right now the pathway to that goal runs through my kitchen, dining room and living room.
Walking is my only exercise right now, so it is important to do it, but how many times can you stroll through the house without wanting to scream out of boredom? Not many, but I don't have the energy to scream.
So I plod on. I start in the kitchen with a glance at the clock to mark the time, then head through the dining room, into the living room, out past the front door and around to the family room. Then I retrace my steps, circling the table in front of the living room sofa and the dining room table an extra time or two just to add a few more steps and take time off the clock. If I feel up to talking and walking at the same time, I call my mom or a sister or my daughter so I can get lost in conversations with them and not have to think about every step.
Was it just last September when my idea of a good workout was running 40 minutes on the treadmill at the gym? And just last summer Mandy and I were walking miles and miles together through Gahanna neighborhoods as we prepared for a half-marathon that subsequently had to be put on hold.
I know I'll get back to running and walking long distances again, but right now the pathway to that goal runs through my kitchen, dining room and living room.
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