The Operation

I am home and glad that everything went better than I or anyone expected. In spite of that, I am having a rough time as I am experiencing a significant amount of pain at the site where the tumor was removed. I have a draining device attached to my abdomen. For three months I was told that I had a life threatening illness. My focus became a search for the best medical care and getting healthy again. It was very consuming, just like a busy job with lots of over time. When Christopher first told me the wonderful news while I was recovering in the operating room, it did not sink in that Dr. B had not removed my kidney. It took me about three to four days to be able to ask the doctors about it and I still don’t believe that I have a full understanding of it all-–I was prepared for anything and everything and willing to do whatever it took. It will take some time for my mind to catch up with reality.

The lab results have not been finalized. I worry about the growth coming back and the operation having to be repeated. Most of us have seen operating rooms dozens of times on TV. Usually it is a good drama with a very good looking doctor (I did have that!) and just like all things Hollywood you know that everything is going to be OK in the end. Plus, you are removed from the situation--after all, it's just a TV drama.

When I walked into the operating room for the surgery, my body filled with angst. I remember coming to a sudden stop when the doors opened to the operating room and looking for an exit that I could run to. I calmed myself down and envisioned that Hollywood ending. However, the noise of the metal instruments, the nurses and doctors (over a dozen), lots of medical devices and the operating table provided a reality check and took my thoughts far away from Hollywood. I was directed toward the operating table and asked to lie down. I now wish I had been placed on a stretcher and wheeled into place. Walking to that operating table and having to stretch out under the lights felt too much like an offering. The next 30 minutes became even more stressful when three nurses started to hook me up to numerous devices. Space-age blankets were draped over my body to ensure that I would retain my body temperature. I wanted to cry. That was when the cocktail kicked in and my memory stopped.