Hospital - Day One

Yesterday's surgery went exactly as planned. I do not have any recollection whatsoever of anything that happened after I received the sedation for the epidural...apparently I posed some good questions to the doctor, but I have no memory of even seeing the doctor.

They were able to take out about one foot of colon and 20 lymph nodes through a 1.5 inch incision through my belly button. The doctor said nothing looked wrong to the naked eye, but it will be about one week until pathology comes back.

I had some problems sleeping last night because the epidural medicine caused poison-oak like itching; but after an injection of Benadryl and a change in narcotics I felt much better. I was able to drink clear liquids this morning and walk around a bit. I also got a visit from my girlfriend Christine, who brought me the cutest little doll in the world.

Gary and mom have been amazing, and were slightly rewarded today by taking part in a cooking demonstration by the pastry chef from the Ritz Carlton who held a class in the patient activity center on how to make molten lava cake...complete with a tasting and lovely parting gifts of a pair of Ritz Carlton slippers!

They are right now predicting I'll be released Sat or Sun, but it could be sooner (I hope). Thank you for all of the love and well wishes.



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Today is the Day

It is always strange arriving at a highly anticipated day. Whether it's a joyous occasion like a wedding or a heartbreaking gathering like a funeral; weeks, months, years of planning are played out within the same short 24-hr time period, after which the sun rises on a "new normal" and we learn to adjust our hopes and sorrows to somehow account for the magnitude and consequences of that one highly anticipated day...

"Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use only the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place." - Susan Sontag

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The Final Countdown

A nice fellow by the name of Darrell called with my surgery time tomorrow: I check into the hospital at noon; surgery is scheduled to begin at 3:00 pm.

Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center
1275 York Avenue
New York, NY 10065

Since Darrell's call, Europe's great 80s rock anthem, The Final Countdown, has been running through my head (and making me smile):

We're leaving together
But still it's farewell
And maybe we'll come back
To earth, who can tell?
I guess there is no one to blame
We're leaving ground
Will things ever be the same again?
It's the final countdown

Clear Liquid Diet

This is my first "mobile" blog entry. Last night I was treated to my grandmother's delicious homemade lasagna and Hoffman's ice cream with the Gozicks before topping off the evening with fresh squeezed lemonade on the Point Pleasant boardwalk.

Today, I start my clear liquid diet: Coffee (without milk); Ginger Ale; Jello; Juice (no pulp), Ice Tea

The purpose of the diet is to get my calorie count up while "eating" easily digestible food that won't leave any intestinal residue. It's a little strange because some items don't "look" clear (coffee) but are considered clear for the purposes of the diet.

This is my third time on this diet in the last four months, but the first time a nurse really explained it to me and said I could have coffee.

As long as I can have coffee, then the rest is a cake walk (bad idiom). It's a little like that scene in the movie "Airplane" when the flight attendant is explaining that there is no captain and the plane is crashing to a calm group of passengers who begin whispering, and then quietly announces: "and we are out of coffee" at which point absolute chaos breaks out. Never underestimate the power of caffeine (nor the comedic genius of Leslie Nielson).

Really, I have nothing to complain about...in a couple of months I'll be back to eating whatever I want; diabetics have a daily, life-long restrictive diet -- which is much, much worse.

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