Six years ago, on May 24th, I married the woman I've come to realize is truly the love of my life. After my divorce in 1996 I wasn't sure I even wanted to get married again; but when my current love came into my life two years later, I knew immediately that we'd spend the rest of our lives together. We were married by the innkeeper of a small resort in the Hocking Hills of Ohio. There were four of us present at the ceremony, myself, my bride, the innkeeper in his kilt, and a bagpiper. We left for a week-long honeymoon in Charleston, SC the following day. We've been together ever since & I wouldn't trade a single day. . .
Well, I might trade a bunch of the days from the last couple of years.
Last year, on our fifth anniversary, I came home from four weeks in the hospital. I had just had surgery for lower esophageal cancer, after narrowly surviving what I now call a slap-fight with the Grim Reaper. I was 90 pounds lighter, weak, exhausted, pale, and unable to eat or drink. I'd lost half of my esophagus and a third of my stomach. I had a deep scar from just below my breastbone to just below my navel, another scar across the bottom of my right shoulder, an open spot on the mid-line incision where stitches would begin popping out a month later, and a feeding tube that was the source of all my food, water and medications. I got home late in the afternoon, watched a little television, and had a visit from a home health nurse who would check in twice a week for the next few weeks. More than anything at that point, I wanted to go to bed and get some rest.
Unfortunately, I wasn't to find out what my own bed felt like for several more hours. Before too many hours passed, we were back in the emergency room at Ohio State University Medical Center. My feeding tube was clogged. We found this out the hard way when bedtime came around & it was time to hang another bag of Jevity, the nutritional solution that was to be my lifeline for the next few weeks, until I could eat normally again. We tried all of the remedies the hospital & the home health nurse had suggested to clear the tube, and nothing worked. So, off to the hospital.
I was exhausted, physically & emotionally, and all I really wanted at that point was sleep. But, I was in pain, dehydrated, and in serious need of nutrition. Two doctors tried in vain to get the tube unclogged. An I-V was started to get some fluids into my body at the least and, finally, at around four o'clock in the morning, a surgeon was found who could change out the clogged tube. It was either that or be re-admitted.
Fortunately, changing a J-tube neither difficult, nor painful. The clogged tube had initially been stitched to the skin of my belly; but I'd popped that stitch the first day out of intensive care. That made things a whole lot easier for the doc who would replace the tube, especially when I explained that the new tube wouldn't have to be stitched in place; it could be held down with a gauze pad & some tape. So, the tube was replaced. The clogged tube was simply pulled out & the new one inserted in the same opening. An x-ray was taken to make sure the new tube had passed through the right area of my body, and we went home. I think I finally got to bed around six o-clock. It would be another 2 weeks before I'd be able to eat again.
I started with "clear" liquids: broth, yogurt, Jell-O, etc., all supplemented with 18-hour daily hook-ups to a pump that supplied the bulk of my nutrition. I was on morphine for intermittent post-op pain, also administered through the tube in my small intestine. If I had to go to the bathroom I could either pee in a bottle, or disconnect the pump for the time it took to actually go to the toilet. Eventually, the muscles in my throat began to re-learn their jobs & I was able to eat more substantial foods, though in very small quantities. The tube feedings went from 18 to 12 hours, then to 8. By now, I was only being tube-fed while I slept.
I had to have my throat dilated four times during this healing process, the most recent just three weeks ago. This is a fun process. It's an out-patient procedure, done in the hospital. They start an I-V, then pump it full of Demerol & Verced (really, really GREAT drugs!); once you start flying, a long tube is snaked down your throat with a balloon attached. The balloon is inflated, your throat stretches to accommodate it, then the balloon is deflated & the tube comes out. You come back to earth with a slight achiness in your throat & feeling a little woozy. You're not supposed to eat anything but brothy soups for the next twelve hours; but at least you can eat. What did I do each time? I hit the hospital's coffee shop on the way out!
A year later, I've been declared cured. At my last endoscopy (last dilation, too) the doctor took a biopsy that showed no more than microscopic remnants of the cancer than damn near killed me. Medically speaking, that means I'm cancer-free. I'm eating normally again & have a new appreciation for food. I've gained back about 20 pounds of the weight I lost, back to a healthy 190. Yep, I've got reason to celebrate.
So, what did Mrs. Dragon & I do to celebrate this wedding anniversary & the anniversary of my return to "normal" life? We went out to dinner, of course. Specifically, we reserved a table at our favorite Italian restaurant. A bottle of Italian red wine, a grilled prosciutto-asiago appetizer, veal picatta, panna cotta & espresso. . .
Does it get any better?
posted by mcsd
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posted by RochelleRochelle
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