A Shit-in Would be a Real Coup

Today the focus has shifted to pain. And its management. We’ve been doing an experimental cocktail of exotics like Tramadol (pain), Ibuprofen (swelling), IV muscle relaxers (ahh...ness) — in varied amounts. Although the thought of IV muscle relaxer going straight into the neck and, hence, heart, gave us both a cause for pause (along with a good laugh with the nurse administering said drug). “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Yes, yes. They. Do.

The whole thing is that he could go home today. But the bigger question is SHOULD. And when you’re in pain, having the option of pressing a button to get a fix vs. a phone call, a wait, another phone call (or two) and then a drive to and fro from the pharmacy...well...not so much. I also find myself to be the expert on abdominal surgery (or like to pretend I am). So I’m more than happy to offer helpful tidbits like, “It’s harder to pull yourself up in your bed at home without the side rails.” And, “Well, that toilet seat at home is a lot lower.” I’m usually received with a look. Just a look. So I’m trying to keep my extensive well of knowledge mostly to myself.

We also have this strange issue with his eyes. They are super dilated and he can’t read small print. It’s odd. He looks all crazy-eyed. There seems to be no real reason and I feel like he’s looking right through me. Maybe he’s just sick of having me attached to his side like a barnacle.

So we’ve been sitting here watching HGTV and waiting for the doctor to stop by. Planning to stay for one more night to make sure all’s good. One more night before he has to say good-bye to his little buddy, JP. And I’m becoming rather attached to my cot. I’ve got the day time vs. night time room configuration and set up down to a science. Recliner out, cot up, bedding set, dismantle, recliner back in. Repeat.

It seems that yesterday was the day of the throw ups. Every single person who heard our news of the cancer spreading reacted the same way. They felt that ole bile sensation and thought they may hurl. Like a ripple effect across the country. And believe me. I get it. Who needs a sit in or candlelight vigil when you can stage a simultaneous, cross country PUKE FEST? (Though a shit-in may be more apropos.)

The thing that plagued us most after hearing the news about that one nosy little buttinsky of a lymph node was the feeling of what’s next? We’re leery now. Teetering a bit with some of the initial confidence and resolve shattered. But I can feel it coming back. Seeping back in. We can do this. And we will.

We had Purse Girl and then True Blue for company and distraction. And as I followed True Blue to 240 Union for a quick hospital get-away and dinner, I started to really cry for the first time. A few months back I tried to read a book about a local Boulder mother’s struggle with cancer, and I couldn’t read it. Now I’m living it. It isn’t in MY body, but it’s in my NUMBER ONE’S body. Same thing. And I’m feeling that same, visceral, gut reaction that the book invoked in me. That puking sensation. Coupled with the cinder block on the head. So that’s why I may be walking a little sideways.

But, you know, it passes. I made the hubby skooch over and curled in beside him in the hospital bed last night and it almost felt like old times. We’ll get back there. It just looks like we have a few things to take care of first.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: Get Off This. Cracker. Get off this. Get on with it.
If you wanna change the world. Shut your mouth and start this minute.