October 28, 2010

I want my healing time ! !

It has been over a week now since we pulled the chemo pump connection to my body.  That pump stuffed in its little annoying butt-bag tethered to me 24/7 proved to be big annoyance for me.  I mean, like, who wants to sleep with someone you do not consider a romper room buddy
This is the important period of time between cycles where the body and mind are supposed to heal up as much as possible before the next tree.  Instead of getting the vacation I need, I have a G Tube problem that has in nearly constant high level pain etc.
Here are some observations I noted after the last chemo infusion hardware was removed:
  • The inner mouth and lips discomfort continued to develop and grow.  Today my mouth feels like I took a raging hot cup of McDonalds coffee and drank it in one big slam.  Once the inner mouth burn occurs, there is no turning back. Because of the chemotherapy, there are no longer any areas inside my mouth that my tongue can slide over and feel anything other than fine-grade sandpaper.
  • My lips, on the other hand, feel like they been have roasted in the sun during an all day fishing trip. Red, hot to the touch, peeling and unhappy about any food or drink hoping to pass through this opening. Chap Stick offers some lip pain relief.  Following “Motschenbacher logic” I find myself saying, “Basic clear color Chat Sticks works so good.  I should go all the way and get some wild lipstick like, you know, Dirty Girl Savage Purple or other similar breakout flavor.  The fact that would have to wear it 24 hours a day does give me pause.  But not much.  A troll-looking guy is a troll; with or with lipstick.
  • The fatigue and nausea of the Dark Days continued straight line for a couple of days before dropping down.
  • The bone pain played out just like the fatigue and nausea.
The chest Port-A-Cathe tube did its job just fine and was not a source of any discomfort.  The ugly appearing scares from bleeding under the skin during the procedure that placed the Port-A-Cathe were still plenty ugly to see. 
Stomach G - Tube
I was finally at a point where I could once again sleep flat instead of having to sit up. G Tube discomfort, thankfully, no longer set my quality of life.
I am type out this posting is morning with a full load of morphine onboard; something I did not expect again to have to do to control pain.  The reason for the all pain I am having to deal with now goes back a couple weeks again when Doc D (who placed the G Tube) called my home and said see me. I figured that these guys know what they are doing so says he needs to see me, I better get over there.  BIG mistake. BIG BIG mistake….
I was still pretty weak from the Dark Days so Lieska took me to his office and let me hobble alongside here.  When Doc D came into my waiting room, he had be lay back and chatted thing a bit.  Suddenly he started pushing, pulling and twisting his own hand hard into my already bruised and tender stomach.  I was horrified and shocked at this and grabbed onto parts of the examine table for dear life.  I say Lieska look up from her magazine to see why I was screaming through clenched teeth.  I slammed my eyes shut again as the doc renewed his movement only to open them a moment later and see Lieska starting to lose color in her face as she stared at what was going on.  The doctor noticed her situation as well and asked her if she was okay.  I knew she was just seconds from passing out so I repeated told her to look away and that I would be okay.  The doctor continued whatever the hell he was doing for maybe a minute more.  By that time, I had sheen of sweat cover every inch of my body, snot running out of nose and enough pain tears to really piss me off. 
Doc D’s explanation of what he was doing just didn’t make any sense at all.  I had entered his office with a functional G tube and nearly all discomfort gone.   Now I was told everything was okay and it would heal in two weeks.  What the hell does that mean?  My body was so shaken and blasted from this Doc D special mode of torture for reasons that remain a mystery to me.
Unfortunately, things did not get better; actually just the opposite.  Doc D set me back a solid two weeks, if not more, in my healing from the 3 surgeries.  Of course, as the days went by and the pain surrounding the G tube became worse and worse as my overall condition plummeted as well.  So instead of doing some walking outside, focusing on some needed healing and getting ready for the Big Day in the recliner to kick off Chemo Cycle Two, I was mostly bedridden and in trouble.
I had no confidence or respect for Doc D at this point so going back to him was out of the question.  I come from the school of that one should not invite someone who wrongs you to please go ahead again. 
So we call Doctor Q, the doctor I selected to be the lead medical doctor call all the shots and is THE final word regarding my treatment.  She fit me in today – awesome customer service. I told her the whole story about what Doc D had done…including the fact that I was already counting the days until when I would feel better and would my strength so I could go punch Doc D in the stomach with everything I had. 
Doc Q could see herself how my condition had slipped backwards.  Although not spoken I could clearly see and her PA exchange glances that said they no more understanding of what or why this mess had occurred than I did.
After some time to consider her next move, Doc Q laid the plan in her typical no nonsense way.
  1. She told me I could not hit the other Doc.  I was laughing at that unit I saw in her eyes that she thought I was seriously planning on decking out.  Hmmm only a few who closest to me will ever know the answer
  2. Immediately start on a power anti-biotic.
  3. Order up a CT Scan to see what can be seen with the situation inside the stomach.  I dud the CT Scan this afteroon.
By the way, next weekend is the Trout Opener for the nearby lake I use for mental R&R.  The Lake opens the day I have my Big Day in the recliner.  I tried to sweet talk the doc and Nurse Mary into moving the schedule to allow me to drag my pathetic bones to the lake for a few hours.  It was amazed how quickly they arived at the universally accepted female response to all such request, ham radio or fishing.  No!  And then the "Look".  The "Look" immediately fired off my own male responce; something encoded in my DNA millions of years ago.  "OH yea!?  We'll see. Who made you my mommy?  I can if I wanna!