Where's My Ribbon?

Lucy, Matt and Thomas get my "Thank You For Excellent Care" award for them tending to my every need yesterday throughout the brachytherapy procedure.  My deep gratitude for never leaving me alone, keeping me warm, watered and medicated cannot fully be expressed; the professionalism was impeccable; the compassion, huge!

 This time around the implant was a bit easier.  The truly hard part is the preparations for the procedure; I mean, sheesh, who wants to go down to ingesting only jello and tea; especially when a neighbor has just dropped off a lovely banana cream pie??????  And trying my best to be delicate, but who decided I was some sort of circus contortionist as I'm to administer this marvelous elimination product to myself the evening before surgery...oh and yes, once again the morning of the day of surgery???????? Double sheesh!!  One more thing, I have never considered drinking an entire bottle of Immodium D as some kind of cocktail.  By the time the surgery itself rolls around I feel positively giddy knowing I'll be hooked up to Ringer's Lactate, woo hoo!  In short by the time the surgery itself takes place I feel so physically depleted of energy due to a lack of real food and fluids.

As I mentioned in a previous posting I made medical history at the hospital I'm being treated at.  Yeppers, the first woman to have an outpatient version of brachytherapy (ovoid implantation).  There were at least a dozen persons involved with this event...although I was treated with dignity and respect the fact is I've had lots of practice these past months with tossing my modesty out the window.  Cervical cancer doesn't promote modesty folks, that's just a fact.  But here's a sort of over-view of what I went through yesterday:

10:30 AM  checked in

11:30 AM  taken to pre-op (this is a great place to share my story & put in plugs for a life with Jesus)

 1:30 PM   taken to OR (I recall being told here comes your cocktail then nothing)

 4:15 PM   I wake up in Post-Op & my anesthesiologist warmly tells me he was able to keep my teeth in place for another day of doom; I begin to shiver profusely, I am given morphine for pain, warmed blankets

 4:30 PM   taken to radiology dept, moved from comfy cart to hard CT table, scanned then transferred back to comfy cart

Now begins the waiting; this procedure needs to deliver the radiation as near to perfectly pinpointed as humanly possible so this is the time Dr. B and other techs are doing math calculations based on the tumor location and size.  These are not simple calculations.

6:15 PM  Dr. B comes back and we discuss the fact that one of the implants (the center one) is in the wrong location, the decision is ultimately mine whether it gets moved or not.  He presents to me that the team can, and has been, try to alter the radiation amount but then it would be fairly ineffective on the tumor OR the tube can be re-situated for a better result BUT either way there exists a better than average chance my bladder will sustain residual radiation damage. I put my bladder into God's care and tell Dr. B to move the tube; the monster has to die or all else is for naught. Ahhh, but here's where God openly reassured me He was with me:  As soon as Dr. B was done moving the tube he looked at me and said, "You know Ginger, you're a real saint."  That was just what He knew I needed to hear because it took 30 minutes after Dr. B moved the tube to get that pain under control.

8:55 PM  Dr. B comes in and says we're ready to do the treatment.  I'm taken to a room which has been transformed to accommodate the machinery used for radiation implants.  Again, all are being respectful as I lie there in an decidedly un-lady-like pose with medical devices protruding from me which must look like something straight out of a science fiction torture scene.  Now Dr. B hooks the hoses which will automatically deliver the proper radiation treatment and then when done will automatically remove the ovoids from the implanted tubes.

9:11 PM  The machine starts treatment

9:20 PM  The ovoids mechanically removed and treatment is over.  9 minutes is all it took to deliver the actual radiation punches  to my monster.

9:21 PM   Dr. B unhooks the machine hoses, then begins removing the gauze packing (approximately 4 yards in length X's 1" square) This is almost comical, like watching a clown pull scarves from his sleeve; except my 'scarves' don't feel so good being pulled out, after all there's a reason it's called packing..  Next each tube is unscrewed (the pig tail type screws are what's on the tube tip which is inside of me) and removed. I've been flat on my back for just shy of 9 hours. Then comes clean-up on aisle 4 please!!!

9:30 PM   I'm cleaned and dressed, ready to go home.  Tada!

A little after 10 PM I'm home, I call Mom, say goodnight then stumble to my bed.

Today Dr. B had me go back to the hospital for an ultrasound of my legs.  My feet, legs and toes are very swollen, even staying off of them doesn't seem to bring the swelling down.  The ultrasound will tell us if I have gotten a blot clot. Before going I am totally refusing to accept this as a possibility; Praise God, the test shows nothing but good stuff.  It's most probable the swelling is caused from the implanted radiation; radiation is weird like that.

And so another adventure is over....but since it was a FIRST where's my ribbon????????   Okay ladies and gents, I'm still not exactly ready to run races so I'll close for now....keep up those prayers, they are working!!!

I'd rather be a could-be if I cannot be an are; because a could-be is a maybe who is reaching for a star. I'd rather be a has-been than a might-have-been, by far; for a might have-been has never been, but a has was once an are.
-- Milton Berle