The Big Breakout

I couldn't stand the i.c.u. There's no privacy. People are hovering over you all the time. There's chaos and tragedy in the air. The nurses are too rushed to be polite. Visiting hours are limited. Terry was there as soon as possible and spent a lot of time by my side knitting. I hung in there as best I could, feeling weak as a kitten.

The hospital evidently has a procedure for leaving i.c.u. You must convince them you're fit enough by passing certain breathing and other tasks. Well, with a combination of me being firm - (i.e. being a bit of a whining brat), Terry's advocacy and sympathetic medical pros, including one particular nurse, we short circuited procedure, and got me back to the oncology ward after a couple of nights in i.c.u. There was a shouting match just prior to the actual move, but we prevailed. This is a story better told by Terry, who was out in the front lines.

Back in my old digs I began to relax. In my new better mood, I pulled off one, I think, pretty good quip. Not long after my arrival they unhooked the catheter. Then the nurse said, "I've got to remove this label." "Oh," quipped myself, "the one that says 'Do Not Amputate!'" Didn't get an LOL, but I did get one later. Let me explain -

In my weakened condition (since improved to where this doesn't happen), when sliding along the bed in a sitting position, I'd have to reach down and pull my scrotum to catch up. I explained to the nurse, "It's important to Honore de Balzac." I got a chuckle for that one.

Sorry, I never mentioned the actual results of the surgery. They fixed the problem with the bowel, but gave me an ileostomy, which can later be reversed. So I've been learning all sorts of fun maintenance techniques. Currently, my stomach feels much better than before the whole thing started. In fact, it feels normal, but I have to be very careful not to eat too much.

Okay, signing off for now.