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Notes from Recovery-ville

Takes a Village

I don’t mean to turn this blog into a personal medical site, but God apparently did, so….

We’re just past the halfway point of the short side of the theoretical recovery period after most of my stomach, a piece of my liver and my gall bladder all sacrificed themselves in an effort to annihilate a 5cm tumor that turned up in my stomach 14 years after receiving unnecessary radiation in that vicinity following a bout with testicular cancer.

OK, with the background out of the way, what’s it like to recover from major gastro-intestinal surgery?  Meh.  Some days are better than others.  Some days are high energy, some days are low energy.  What is a constant is sleep.  This is the magic potion of healing.  I can drop a 2-hour nap in a New York minute (I know- that sentence must be a gross metaphorical violation of some sort).   The trick is getting 10-12 hours of sleep a day but not turn into a piece of the living room furniture.  You have to get out.  You have to walk.  You have to get in the sun.  You have to breathe the air.  Sometimes easier said then done.

A few days ago, I made my first distant foray from home besides the hospital to take in a Nationals game that reliever, Drew Storen tried to ruin for me but it’s not really his fault- he didn’t know I was sick.  The point is that when I mentioned my outing on Facebook, a friend noted “great you should be feeling so well to get out and about.”  In fact, without going into any detail, I will tell you categorically that was the single worst day of my recovery that I have had.  And that is precisely why I pushed on and decided it was imperative to get out and get TO the ballgame.   And it worked.  The field, the wind, the night air, the best game ever invented in the history of mankind- all conspired to make me feel vibrant and alive.  It did wonders.  Thanks to Drew, I got to leave after the bottom of the 8th and beat a lot of the subway crowd so even the Metro experience was pleasant.

This is about pushing the limits of your physical and mental boundaries.

One of the things I’ve done mentally, is divorce myself from the news within reason.  I am in the news business so it goes against instinct.  But I’m sorry, there is just too much conflict, violence, blood, natural disaster, evil, ego, banality, superficiality, celebrity-worship and general bullshit out there for it to possibly be healthy in any way to consume in large quantities at this time.  I’ll catch up later.

One of the larger adjustments is in the area of nutrition, appetite, food.  After leading a life, like most others I think, in which meals are defined by their taste, all bets are off now.  Foods that I used to secretly crave (and which are advertised more than any other) like cheeseburgers, french fries, fried chicken, have lost their appeal.  Food just tastes different.  With a smaller stomach, I also eat much smaller amounts.  And my appetite is all over the place.  Sometime I have one, sometimes I don’t.

The trick now (and this is too funny for words) is keeping my weight up.  After years of trying to watch my weight, I am currently losing about 4 pounds a week.  Add it to the weight loss that occurred after surgery and a week of hospitalization and we’re talking nearly 30 pounds.  Eventually this has to stop but right now, it feels great to be lighter.

In a couple of weeks I begin a discussion with my doctors about chemotherapy.  They seem to be all gung-ho about the poisonous little cocktails they want to give me to prevent any return of cancer.  They are going to have to convince me with science, research and logic.  The white coats and air of authority will not be enough.  Don’t get me wrong.  I love my doctors.  They have saved my life.  I just don’t want a repeat of 14 years ago when the prevailing medical orthodoxy was to radiate the crap out of people.  It’s one of my own doctors who tells me he is now constantly running into patients with tumors who received radiation 15 and 20 years ago.  A debate for another day.  For now, a few more weeks for healing from the sharp, steely knives.

They say God works in mysterious ways.  I do believe the dude has tried to kill me several times in order to make me stronger and healthier.  Eventually, this time, I think it’s going to take.

 

  1. kathy
    May 29, 2013 at 11:28 am

    Thirty pounds is a lot. I hope you can get some of that back and that you continue to get outside a bit. What a long rough recovery. We’re all fine..
    btw.

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