There are way more types of cancer than a species really needs in order to knock itself off. One brand of lethal malady would actually serve the purpose intended. Luckily (if I can use that adjective in this context), I have made use of one of the less aggressive types of "oma" on the market today.
To continue the chronology of events . . .
The daily process of re-framing a rationale for not jumping off a cliff in order to save myself, and those who love me, a whole lot of hassle should things take a semi-inevitable turn for the mega-worse, has been quite entertaining. I simply choose a quote from one of my erstwhile caretakers and decide to take it seriously:
1. "Cancers of this type rarely reoccur after proper treatment."
2. "With the advanced technology we have today, there should be no problem getting rid of this type of tumor."
3. "There's a very high chance for full recovery."
4. "At this point, I see no reason why we should have to remove all of the teeth from your right jaw." (etc., etc., etc.)
Leading up to the surgery my perspective was somewhat like the experience of running down an ever-steepening hill while trying to catch a ticking bomb that was continually rolling ever-faster. But, once I was actually in my cozy little hospital bed, enjoying that particular brand of cocktail that one can only find in such a venue, the anxiety actually subsided. There was no turning back and there was no way to predict the future. You have to just let it go.
So, after a few hours of poking, prodding, filling out forms, asking and answering questions, and wondering what the world would be like when I woke up, I was rolled into the operating suite with a smile on my face. Just as I was being transferred to the operating table I went dark; lights out. Next thing I knew I was dreaming that I was fighting off some group of unknown attackers. Turned out to be the nurses in the recovery room. I let 'em live.
more to come . . .
Monday, July 27, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Ok. Where was I?
Dr. Blackwell was quick to tell me that what he thought I had was a Wirthin's Tumor. This tumor has a very low rate of malignancy, but needs to be removed to prevent the evil possibilities involved with keeping it in. He suggested that I do some reading (quickly) and let him know what I would like to do.
Well, what I would like to do is to get anything that looks, acts, feels, or smells like cancer the hell out of my body - as soon as possible. Surgery was scheduled for June 18th at UCLA.
I think that it's certainly normal human response to dread surgery. But, in my experience as an apprentice embalmer, paramedic, and physician assistant, I have seen more than my share of gore. So my sensitivy to the negatives of such things is somewhat muted. I just sort of take it as it comes and hope for the best. It was not so much the slashing into my neck and digging around part that got my attention; it was the fact that the "C" word had reared its ugly head.
More to come . . .
Well, what I would like to do is to get anything that looks, acts, feels, or smells like cancer the hell out of my body - as soon as possible. Surgery was scheduled for June 18th at UCLA.
I think that it's certainly normal human response to dread surgery. But, in my experience as an apprentice embalmer, paramedic, and physician assistant, I have seen more than my share of gore. So my sensitivy to the negatives of such things is somewhat muted. I just sort of take it as it comes and hope for the best. It was not so much the slashing into my neck and digging around part that got my attention; it was the fact that the "C" word had reared its ugly head.
More to come . . .
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
The first signs . . .
About a year ago I noticed a sort of mushy lump on the side of my neck, right under the left ear lobe. I didn't give it much thought at first. Then, it started changing; growing, getting smaller, etc. Sometimes it was hard as a rock, other times it was soft. My doctors said it was probably a lymph node just doing it's thing. Wrong! I changed doctors.
I moved my primary care to Dr. David Shen in Long Beach, CA. He and his partner take a comforting old school approach to care. If there's a question mark, they do something about it.
Dr. Shen referred me to an otolaryngologist, Dr. Michael Kim in Los Alamitos. Dr. Kim seemed like a good fit on first impression. But, at my second visit he seemed not to know who I was and began to develop a history that we had discussed in detail on my first visit. He was quick to say that I needed to have a CT scan. The scan revealed an unidentifiable mass. I asked for a second opinion on his recommendation for surgery.
I soon found myself in the office of Dr. Keith Blackwell, Chair of the deparment of otolaryngology at UCLA's David Geffen School of Medicine. Dr. Blackwell is a world renowned surgeon, highly noted for his brilliance and forward-thinking research. Bingo!
More to follow . . .
I moved my primary care to Dr. David Shen in Long Beach, CA. He and his partner take a comforting old school approach to care. If there's a question mark, they do something about it.
Dr. Shen referred me to an otolaryngologist, Dr. Michael Kim in Los Alamitos. Dr. Kim seemed like a good fit on first impression. But, at my second visit he seemed not to know who I was and began to develop a history that we had discussed in detail on my first visit. He was quick to say that I needed to have a CT scan. The scan revealed an unidentifiable mass. I asked for a second opinion on his recommendation for surgery.
I soon found myself in the office of Dr. Keith Blackwell, Chair of the deparment of otolaryngology at UCLA's David Geffen School of Medicine. Dr. Blackwell is a world renowned surgeon, highly noted for his brilliance and forward-thinking research. Bingo!
More to follow . . .
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