Hospital - Aug 18 AM

August 15, 2014, Friday

Today started pretty nicely. I woke up to Deb coming into my room at 5:30 AM. She had cleaned up from the day before and looked lovely. She was wearing jeans and a white linen shirt and her sandals. She sat beside me and fell asleep in the chair that is built for fat people. (It’s giant.) We snoozed and dozed until around 8:15 when the guys showed up to take me to the Radiologist for more biopsy samples.

That was a really bad experience. The guys were rough and I awoke when they were shoving the tube down my liver. Oh man did that hurt. I think they held my arms down while they shoved more anesthetic down me. I was saying, “Hold on…. Just let the anesthesia take hold!” The nurse manager came by and got a statement from me, in which I was very careful to say really nice things about the guys who were pleasant, and give her the facts on the ones that weren’t.

So they dug pieces of me out, little mouse bites of my bile duct where it’s constricted and then a scrubbadubdub of the same area to get some cells in general. This goes to the lab, and that technician gets going. Dr. Fuller came by again and we discussed it. I told him I wanted to hear from him regarding the prognosis, and not Dr. Hyena mouth.

To that point, I had a pretty lengthy break-down with my good friend Liz Powell this morning. She was here talking to Deb and me, Pres was behind my bed. As we were talking my realization of the irony of cancer treatment really settled in: the proscribed treatment won’t always cure you. Up to this point, I have pretty much gone under the knife, taken horrible pills, endured awful procedures because at the end of them, I would be cured.

Cancer is a little more nuanced. It’s a combination of things. And while this is obvious to the reader or casual observer, it’s a far more sobering realization for the person with cancer inside them. Do all these horrible things to your body, and you might live. Don’t do them, and you’ll die. This is a hard trade-off.

What really aches is that the trade-off I am making is my family, my wife, my house, my loved ones… all in juxtaposition against this disease. If I don’t fight, then all those things go away from me. And I am all alone. I am solitary in whatever plain I would then exist. This is not consoling for me. There is no one beyond the grave I want to see more than my family here on this world. I want to remain here. This was my realization today… so abstract and yet so concrete. So concrete.

Liz held my left hand, Deb my left knee, and Pres had his hand resting on my head. After a while it got hot. I had to move it. Pres loves me so much and I deeply appreciate him coming and taking care of my precious ones. He is a good big brother.

What gave us some comic relief was the poor house keeper who came in the room and didn't even pay us any mind---just kept right on mopping and emptying and making noise while four adults sat on the bed weeping. We all said something, everyone of us. But ultimately, mr anger got the best of me and my sadness morphed to hulkish rage, "Just go away" I said and looked at this poor person with what must have been a pretty clear visual message. She left. 

We looked back on it with some humor later, but here was the learning for me: I immediately felt bad and expressed it. Liz helped me get over it without the anger I generally feel from my upbringing. It was refreshing. The anger was dispelled and I was able to return to peace and presence. 

For me, I was able to ultimately boil down Liz's message to this: Is this helping me get better? It is a good comment for me to keep in mind for the moment since, at the moment, I don’t have anything to really rally against. I am preparing for the unknown race. I have a fight ahead of me, but my enemy is not known. So, when I face emotions or situations, it is beneficial to me and to those around me when we ask, “Is this helping me get better?” Not surprisingly, anger at others doesn’t help much. What is a little surprising is that with this simple question to yourself---at least for now---the anger dissipates quickly leaving room for peace.