If you read my last post it was obviously from what I wrote that I was confused about the biopsy since the last one I did last year they went through my chest to pull out a sample of a nodule in my lung in order to determine if the nodules had metastasized, which took all of about 5 hours as I remember it from the time I walked into the hospital until walking out. Here was this other biopsy for which they said I needed to stay in the hospital for four days. All I could figure was that they were exercising an abundance of caution in a healthcare system that doesn’t concern itself with insurance company requirements that mandate that the patient is in and out asap. Wrong!
(if you are interested in reading the rest go to d-coda-blog.com, cancer this time section and scroll to the bottom of the page)
In order to provide some context for what I will share I’d like to take you back the cancer the last time for comparison reasons. During that treatment I was radiated with what the Mayo Clinic oncologist told me was the strongest dose of Proton Radiation that she had given anyone ever due to the sever nature of my condition. The radiation of this kind for anyone is going to result in what could be compared to the worse sunburn that you can imagine in the throat, and not nearly as problematic, but still not fun, also to the outside of the neck, and shoulder areas which needed special treatment for weeks after the radiation. Having been an alcoholic/addict who loved going to the beach most of my life, and having passed out my share of times in the sun I know of what I speak using that comparison.
Anyhoo…. The big fun happened back then when, during the last weeks of radiation, and then into the first six weeks of post radiation recovery when I had to throw up, which I would estimate to be around 20 to 30 times, probably more. I bet that throwing up with a radiated throat felt very similar to rubbing sandpaper over a burn. I share that only as a baseline for a comparison to the pain from this trip, which was significantly less painful, but still, right up there on the scale.
So this time the biopsy consisted of going down my throat, using my trachea to get into the lung where they removed several cancerous nodules in order to determine if there exists a particular molecule that is required in order to make this new suggested treatment viable. Additionally they placed a tube that was about the diameter of a finger through my side, past ribs and into the lungs in order to suck out whatever it was that needed sucking out. This was not something I knew was going to happen so when I woke up from surgery with this tube in me and suffering pain with every breath it was an unpleasant surprise.
Before surgery I made it clear to anyone on the medical staff who would listen, with the last person being the anesthesiologist, that I had taken regular pain killers for years and had developed a tolerance and please make sure that was understood for my post-op pain management. While everyone said that they knew of this I still had normal pain killers in what I can only imagine was normal amounts, which did exactly jack shit for my pain. Of course I had to struggle past the nurses (all of this without speaking Italian, mind you) and to the doctor who finally got me some kind of meds that did some minor amount of good.
I offered the description of the pain I endured during the last cancer episode so that as I describe this episode that it might be understood and/or believed that I am not exaggerating. I gave plenty of consideration about how to describe it later on and what I thought of as an apt comparison would be having a screwdriver shoved into the lungs. Most people have heard the saying “it only hurts when I breath”, well, in this case it was absolutely that.
I had a roommate with a breathing apparatus that didn’t just beep but freaking blared all night long. He must have been used to it because he slept through it, but I’m sure that it is no exaggeration to say that it could be heard clearly from at last 60 yards away through walls and I was like 10 feet from him. Maybe a clearer understanding might be hearing every word from a TV playing downstairs from your room, but I was in the room.
I started throwing up at around 2 A M and that wasn’t pleasant in the least, since, as I said every breath was plenty painful, so you might imagine what throwing up felt like. I called for the nurse to give me some meds to keep me from throwing up, which she did, but still, for the life of me couldn’t imagine why they didn’t give me that sooner as a precautionary measure.
This was all the worst of it but by no means all of it. With the language barriers and the fact that nobody kept me informed with the surgery starting some 8 hours after it was due to start and that I could not eat for over 24 hours after my last meal was given, blah, blah, blah…it was not a real great party for ol Dakota.
They made 3 incisions and pretty much every movement at the moment is painful. The stitches come out in 3 weeks. I lost my voice on occasions but that was pretty much minor. Even given the pain meds I probably slept less than 4 hours each of the four nights on average and even when I was at top physical form pre 2019 cancer I needed 8 each night or I was dopey. I’m catching up on my sleep now having been back home for two days, but going through that and lying in bed for four days set back any semblance of health that I had improved over the last months.
Perhaps someday I will offer a more detailed description of this little ordeal. For now I am just trying to live up to my commitment to offer as much information about my journey as I can with the time, energy and motivation that I can come up with at any given time. Oh well, one way or the other, this too shall pass.