My second surgery for bladder cancer was done on Thursday and I got to come home from the hospital Friday evening. I'm currently taking some truly heavy-duty narcotics for pain and to control spasms, so I'm sure I'll remember this particular period as kind of a daze.

Rather than try to write a coherent and detailed account of my visit to the UVA Medical Center, I'll just throw out a few random observations and memories, kinda stream-of-consciousness style. That's partly to keep this post from running on for twenty thousand words ... and partly because right now I think in random observations and memories, kinda stream-of-consciousness style.

Anyway...

• Man, I really don't like general anaesthesia. I don't like being totally knocked out for surgery, I'd rather get local or regional anaesthesia so that I don't have those bizarre, jagged, surreal bits of memory after it's all done. I had to have general anaesthesia this time. My hazy memories of everything pre-surgery and everything for the first few hours after surgery have a really bizarre quality to them. Not to get dramatic, but have you ever seen the last few minutes of Fire in the Sky? I'm not saying that it was that bad, but it does make me think of that movie sequence.



• The difference between a good hospital stay and a bad one all comes down to the RNs. I was blessed to be attended by several wonderful nurses who made me as comfortable and happy as possible, and I'll feel indebted to them and remember them for the rest of my life.



• The wonderful nurses who attended to me made me think about my mother and my sister, both RNs. I've been told by a number of people that they're both damn good nurses, too, and my stay at UVA makes me admire and appreciate my mom and my sis all that much more.



• To help control bladder spasms post-surgery I was given Opium And Belladonna suppositories. So I can now say that I've experienced opium. And I've experienced having a suppository implanted by committee. I think everyone from the hospital CEO to the night janitor was in my room during that process. (I haven't checked YouTube for cellphone videos; I really just don't want to know.) Anyway, the suppositories gave me so much relief that it almost worth it.



• My surgery was rough. The surgeon had a difficult time getting to the rest of the tumor and ended up causing some trauma to my prostate, which bled profusely. Apparently, the prostate is very sensitive and will bleed profusely if you give it a harsh look. So don't mess with your prostate.



• In hell, everyone has a Foley Catheter and everyone has to have their Foley Catheter changed once a day. So say your prayers and go to church because you do NOT want to have to go through that.



• Having my catheter changed on the second day was the most painful experience of my life. The physical pain was beyond words. I was reduced to a quivering, bawling mess. Thank GOD this was done early and my wife and son hadn't gotten to the hospital yet. It took the attention of an amazingly patient and kind nurse and innumerable shots of morphine and codeine to get me through it. I think I'd rather be hit by a truck than go through that again. As of now I'd call that half-hour (or so) the absolute low-point of my life.



• One of the people attending to me was a "Patient Care Technician" named Ninfa. Ninfa was an older lady from Brazil with a thick accent, and I found her manner of speech to be somewhat musical and kinda soothing. She spent some time talking to me and she and I got to know each other a little bit. At one point she said "I tell my priest about you." It was one of the most genuinely heart-warming moments I've had in a very long time. God bless you, Ninfa.



• All you people who oppose immigration on any grounds: If you had your way, I'd have been denied the chance to meet Ninfa. I'd be a poorer man for it, too.



• Some doctors know how to treat patients and some don't. If you, by some slim chance, are a hospital doctor, please consider the following: Your patients are HUMAN BEINGS and they deserve to be treated like human beings, not science projects. Don't walk into a patient's room and throw off his or her sheets, exposing him or her to the world, without shutting the door. And take the time to introduce yourself and exchange just a few seconds of banter before you start such an examination. Surgery is difficult enough without you making the patient feel like roadkill.



• One way to make a hospital stay more tolerable is to remember to bring a personal CD player or MP3 player. I've learned over the past couple of months that a dark room and Dark Side Of The Moon will allow me to temporarily escape any amount of misery.



• Having said all of that, I also have to say that I am grateful to the folks at UVA (well, I'm grateful to most of 'em, as for the others, they know exactly what I thought of their behavior) and I feel very fortunate. I won't know until Tuesday after the final lab work and biopsy if I'm cancer free yet, but in the meantime I still consider myself one of the lucky ones. I received just about the best medical care available. My suffering has been minimized to the highest degree allowed by pharmacology and human compassion. And, I have a wonderful family and amazing friends who've made me feel supported and loved. I certainly wouldn't call myself lucky to have cancer, but I'd call myself extremely lucky in every other element of my life, and this experience with cancer has made me realize just how blessed I am.

Labels: Bladder Cancer, Personal