Weekly Log 19-Apr to 25-Apr-2021: Surgery and Recovery

Miscellaneous ramblings:

• One of the many notes entered into my medical records this week was literally "He appears to be well-nourished."  Is that a euphemism for "That guy is fat!"?
• So glad to hear that the US Government is approving resuming the Johnson & Johnson COVID vaccine.  It not only validates my own shot, but also just gives additional options for other Americans to get vaccinated.  I know there are others like me that just want the 1-shot over and done with option.
• There are still so few countries in Europe that are open to Americans, but Iceland is now open to anyone fully vaccinated.  I'm kicking myself for not signing up for Laugavegur back in January, but registration filled in just three hours and I was skeptical the borders would open.
• In a similar vein, Boston Marathon 2021 registration was open for four days this week, and I have a qualifying time from Myrtle Beach Marathon 2019, but I let it pass.  I have plenty of excuses, including Indigenous People protesting to move the date, BAA requiring two negative COVID tests before running the race, tough race logistics, etc., but really it came down to my heart just wasn't in it, especially during this week of surgery and resetting of priorities.
• On a more local note, the Blessing of the Fleet has opened registration for virtual running 2021, but I really hope they open in-person.  Our new governor has already announced no outdoor capacity limits for events after May 28.
• On a even more localized note, the Y is cancelling the Back Road Ramble trail race again this year, but is somehow "combining" it with the Schonning 5K, and moving both to September.

Monday:  2 walk

Surgery day is here.  Nervous, but ready to move on with my life.  Outpatient surgery is slated to be completed during the morning, but with recommendations to cancel all my other appointments for the day, I did just that and took the day off from work.

This sums up how I felt when I woke up.  Nervous and scared that
the day was here, but also glad that it's time to start the process.

I arrived at the surgeon's office about 9:30am, and after checking in and getting our temperatures taken, Jana and I waited in the ... well, in the waiting room, of course.  We were probably there about 15 minutes when I was called in.  Fortunately, the scalpels and other instruments were not visible to me.  I won't write about every detail that happened this morning, but it went by quicker than I thought.  Here are some random thoughts and things that stuck with me:

• There was a lot of downtime initially (waiting for local anesthetics to take effect, etc) and I found the view out the window of the Mystic River and seaport to be pacifying.
• I also gazed through the window at the Captain Daniel Packer Inne and its 1754 sign, and wondered what life was like there over 250 years ago in Colonial British America.  What was it like for "weary travelers between New York and Boston" to stop for the night and partake in a hearty meal, while Captain Packer regaled his guests of his adventures on the high seas?
• Each of the nurses that attended to me and checked in on me at various stages was professional, calm, and reassuring.
• I was told I should be comforted in the fact that my cancer is Stage 0 and that's why I am here, as their Stage 1 patients are sent to L&M Hospital to have their lymph nodes harvested.  OK, that's both scary and helpful.
• One of the prep nurses remembered my concerns from last week about not being able to run for a week (yeah, I don't always get my priorities right!).  Anyway, with that backdrop, she spoke to me about her experiences with the New York City Marathon, both as 1) a triage nurse at the finish line tent, and 2) cheering her daughter on when she ran the marathon.  I realized she was doing this to divert my attention, but it worked, as I enjoyed the stories and before I knew it, she was done with what seemed a myriad of one of my phobias:  needles.
• One of the nurses was also a prior patient and showed me her scars from the same surgery and same surgeon as I was facing today, and spoke about her experience, albeit hers on a smaller scale.  That's helpful to put a real face and a real experience to this.
• There was some minor pain during the surgery itself, but mostly discomfort, and I was relieved when the surgeon said I was done and the nurses would bandage me and give me further instructions.
• I'm feeling a little light-headed (Jana would drive me home) and I have a massive bandage on my head (I'm glad I'm working from home and won't be turning on my video for the next couple of days), but otherwise am OK.
• Now the wait time until 10am tomorrow when I learn the lab results of whether they got all the cancer ...

Spent most of the afternoon on the couch, and after dinner felt up to going for an easy and flat walk.  Jana found some oversized hats for me, and the three of us (Jana, Brady, and me) went to Grills Wildlife Sanctuary (Hopkinton), where we encountered zero other humans.

I'm currently reading this book about
1957 Boston Marathon champion Johnny Kelley.
His statue is just a few blocks from where I had my surgery.
The irony in the section I read tonight is that I
learned he died of melanoma.  Bad timing after I
just got through a day of surgery to remove melanoma.

Tuesday:  0 run, 0 walk, lots of time on the couch

Woke up at 5am and laid awake staring at the ceiling. (I can only lie on my back and with elevated pillows, but that's probably TMI.)

Five more hours until I learn if the cancer is gone.
How do I slow down my heartbeat?  Patience, patience.

Just a few minutes before 10, my cell phone rings and shows "Mystic, CT".  I pick it up, listen, and am devastated.  Jana has just come in from her run, and I tell her that we need to leave pretty much right away as they found more cancer remaining and I need to go back into surgery right away.  I pack a few things and we're off.  

My mood is really downtrodden today as I enter the room.  This time seeing the tray out in the open with the scalpels does not help my anxiety.  The nurses are all friendly and upbeat, pointing out an even better view (of the Mystic River and hills) than yesterday, but it's my body that's about to be injected and prodded and poked and cut and cauterized and bandaged, not theirs, and I'm depressed.  I try my best to focus on other stuff when the needles start coming.  After a seemingly longer wait than yesterday, the surgeon arrives in the room.

I ask the surgeon what they found this time and if it's just a small additional piece to remove.  He's brutally honest (as he should be) and says the region is mapped into four quadrants, and three of the four quadrants came back malignant post yesterday's surgery, so they have to widen the scope and remove in almost all adjacent areas from yesterday's surgery.  I did ask.  

At some point in the surgery, I felt intense pain and involuntarily yanked my head away and let out a low volume scream.  The nurses asked if it hurt.  Maybe I'm a wimp, but I said yes, a lot.  This did not happen yesterday.  I notice my hands and feet are just shaking uncontrollably.  The surgery then stopped, the surgeon left, and the injections and burning sensations resumed.  Ugh.  When the nurse was done and surgeon and other staff returned, I heard "make a note in Jeff's record that marcaine is more appropriate for him than lidocaine."  I wanted to stop and ask them to translate, but I've had it; I just want this to be over and I want to leave and never come back.

It turns out I may get my wish.  After the surgeon finally finished, I hear him say to one of the nurses, "Find out where Jeff lives and try to get him setup for wound care local to him".  You know that even though I'm physically and mentally anguished, I can still hear you, right?  The surgeon tells me that the courier just took my excisions from today and is leaving for a lab in Boston now (early afternoon now) and they'll have the results again for me in the morning.

After the surgeon leaves, the nurse explains to me that IF my results come back clear tomorrow morning, I'm probably done here at their practice, as my wound can't be stitched up because it's too large (presumably because of the enlarged surgical removal area today) and I'll be sent to the wound care center at Westerly Hospital on Thursday or Friday.  OK, one step at a time.  Let me hear and process tomorrow's pathology results first.  

She tells me that I had a lot of bleeding from my head today, and I'll want to change my shirt ASAP because it has blood on it.  Great.  She tries to make a joke that it's good that I am wearing a dark color shirt, because it would have really stood out on a white shirt, but sorry, I've just lost my sense of humor completely at this point.  I'm in a lot of pain, and it's time to leave.

Somewhere under there is my head.
I am a freak of nature, but I am surviving,
and that's all that counts.
I'm thinking my modeling days are over.

Wednesday: 1 walk (plus lots more time on the couch!)

Deja vu.  Here we go again.
Same as yesterday, a sleep-deprived night as part of the long wait
for the phone call with results.
Please, please, please, please, please be clear this time.

Today's call:  I see "Mystic, CT" again and my heart is just pounding as I answer the call.  I hear that my pathology results came back all clear this time!!!  My cancer is completely removed.  I don't know how I could've mentally or physically gone back for a 3rd day of surgery, but there won't be a third round of surgery today!  I must've excitedly thanked the caller at least five times before the end of the call, and then told Jana and then called my Mom and texted my sons.  What a huge relief!  Hallelujah. 

The miracles of modern medicine, being alive,
family and friends, and being cancer free!

My recovery will be long (months), I may need one more surgery for grafting, and I'm scheduled to report to the Westerly Hospital tomorrow morning, but I'm on the path to recovery!  After getting a few things done for work (despite my boss insisting I take at least another full day off), I took the afternoon off and fell into a deep sleep on the couch for much of the afternoon.  I think my body is just very tired.

In the evening, Jana and I went for a "Cancer Free Dinner Celebration" at Breakwater Stonington Harbor.  It was our first time there, and we had no trouble getting reservations on a rainy weeknight evening.  Jana found me a hat that was pretty deep and loose, with flaps on the sides that go down over the ears, so I was able to get my ginormous bandaged head into it without any bandaging sticking out.

Thursday:  1 walk

AM:  Went to Westerly Hospital's Wound Care Center for my first of many visits to come.  Met with the staff there, and one recognized me, said she knew Jana, and asked me about the WTAC and running events in general.  Oh good, I love it when you can make some kind of connection, especially in a somewhat stressful setting such as this.  They removed my bandage, cleaned me up, took measurements out loud  (which told me that the final wound size is THREE TIMES the size of the original site as measured - this may be why the wound can't be closed!), applied some medication and put on a much smaller bandage.  A little sore, but nothing like the surgery. 

For my next appointment, they asked me to have Jana come in so they show her how to change my dressings and bandages in between my visits, as I surely can't change them myself in an area I can't even see.  They seemed optimistic on my return to running, but pessimistic on any swimming even three months from now, but urged patience.  It's not my forte, but I'm trying!

PM:  1-mile walk at Wahaneeta with Jana and Brady.  Today, that was enough.

Friday:  1 walk

The closest to normal work day I have had this week, so a good note to end the week on.

A really nice and thoughtful surprise arrived this afternoon
from my staff at work!

Went for a post-work walk with Jana and Brady at the Whitely Preserve.

Saturday:  3 walk!

Why the exclamation point?  Because 3 miles is the longest I've walked since the surgery, and with no apparent side effects or bleeding, I'm optimistic that a return to "light running" will be approved for middle to late week.

Went for an easy paced walk at DuVal with Brady, on undulating terrain, and I was amused with many things Brady did, including jumping into Bullhead Pond and separately finding and carrying a big stick for miles.  This was really fun!  Sometimes the simple things in life are great.

The stick was bigger than him!

At one point, two women trail runners came our way and I could just see Brady getting excited.  The shoe was on the other foot now, as when I run trails and encounter other dogs out hiking with their owners, they will often run with me for a while.  Brady was steadfastly obedient and stayed right with me, but there was a lot of whining, and all of a sudden he took off on a short sprint ahead of me (opposite direction from the trail runners now) before returning.  I think he was telling me we should be running.  Hopefully soon enough ...

Five six, pick up sticks ...
Picked up three heaping wheelbarrows of sticks from my yard.
Did we have a stormier than normal winter this year?
I got perverse pleasure out of incinerating them.  Is pyromania
a guy thing?

Sunday:  0

Race directed the 40th annual Clamdigger road races, and that was enough for today.  Especially in the rain.  Jana and I were the first to arrive at 8:45 and last to leave at 12:45.  I was pretty wet and cold by then.  Glad I had brought a change of clothing.

Rain-soaked (look at the puddle) start to this year's Clamdigger,
but at least we were able to have a Clamdigger at all this year!

175 runners signed up, and of those 118 (67%) were tough enough to show up today.  That's a pretty good outcome!  I am grateful that we were able to use the town's awesome facility, and the clean indoor bathrooms and pavilion were a welcome temporary respite from the rain as well.  I am not aware of a single issue that occurred, and I attribute the success to the awesome volunteers we have in the WTAC.

I panicked a bit when I got home and found that I had been bleeding from my head.  (The bandages were covered by a hat and then hood, so no one at the race could've seen this and freaked out.)  I may have overdone it scurrying about in my RD duties today and hope I didn't set myself back at all.

Weekly mileage:  0 run, 8 miles walked

Weekly synopsis:  It is easy to look at the events of the past week as pretty awful.  And for sure I had some days that were just pure awful, painful, bloody, depressing, and scary.  I still have a 3-month recovery ahead of me.  I wasn't able to run the Clamdigger, I'll be back at the Westerly Hospital in the morning, and I may be facing one more surgery.

But out of the ashes arose the phoenix, and that today is me.  I am fortunate to have my life, a supportive spouse, my family, and all things considered, my health.  Life is short and precious; live life to the fullest.

In my patient health portal, I had to read slowly as there were just so many words that I did not understand and had to look up (subcutaneous, cautery, slough, serosanguinous, lentigo, in situ, autolytic debridement, and so on, and so on).  However, one sentence towards the end was an exception not only in that I understood every single word, but more importantly, it gave me a lot of hope:  "He lives a very healthy lifestyle and otherwise is in excellent health which is beneficial to healing."

Weekly highlight:  Being told (finally) that my results came back clear and I was cancer free!!!

Weekly lowlight:  Obviously the surgery, and especially the second one.  Not being able to run all week was truly suddenly the least of my worries, and put things in perspective.  

Not to minimize in any way the many people who have had forms
of cancer more serious and more pervasive than mine,
but this past week was a real tough one for me both mentally and physically,
and I am blessed to be on the path to recovery.