No news is the news
It has been a wet, lazy Sunday around here, though not that much more lazy (for me) than the last few days. George and Kathy Gibbons got into town on the day of my surgery, and are shoving off tomorrow. During the visit they have cooked, cleaned, repaired, entertained, made cocktails, consumed cocktails, and have been all-around great houseguests and a huge help. I did a little cooking the other night, but I have not really had to lift a finger.
Dr. Gibson told me that the latest procedure would hurt more than the mediastinoscopy, and it was not a lie. In fact, I feel fine- not sick, not nauseated, energy is fine. It's just that my right upper chest area feels like it was slugged by a nine pound hammer, and that feeling is slow to go away. I was thinking of going back to work, maybe on Saturday, but it seemed kinda pointless- I would give myself a pass the weekend after surgery (full disclosure: the fact that it was a very consequential Saturday deep in the college football season was a check in the "stay home" column).
The pain has been miserable at times, but I won't pretend that I have suffered past few days; in fact, it has been fun. I am a little anxious to get out of the house and go back to work, but we have made the best of these circumstances by doing things around the house and enjoying great meals and drinks. It has been a mini-holiday.
I am being spared further medical procedures involving scalpels this week- I just have to go in for a PET scan on Tuesday, which will help the oncologists stage my illness, which will determine the best course of treatment. Right now there are a couple of unexplained nodules in my lungs, which are the only evidence of this not being standard-issue lymphoma- all other signs point to run-of-the-mill Hodgkin's. Because of this little question mark, Dr. Peacock is going to parade my films around some kind of lung convention that is going on this Monday. If those eggheads can't figure it out, then they'll call in Dr. House.
Friday I go to Vanderbilt for a second opinion, and that's my week.
Dr. Gibson told me that the latest procedure would hurt more than the mediastinoscopy, and it was not a lie. In fact, I feel fine- not sick, not nauseated, energy is fine. It's just that my right upper chest area feels like it was slugged by a nine pound hammer, and that feeling is slow to go away. I was thinking of going back to work, maybe on Saturday, but it seemed kinda pointless- I would give myself a pass the weekend after surgery (full disclosure: the fact that it was a very consequential Saturday deep in the college football season was a check in the "stay home" column).
The pain has been miserable at times, but I won't pretend that I have suffered past few days; in fact, it has been fun. I am a little anxious to get out of the house and go back to work, but we have made the best of these circumstances by doing things around the house and enjoying great meals and drinks. It has been a mini-holiday.
I am being spared further medical procedures involving scalpels this week- I just have to go in for a PET scan on Tuesday, which will help the oncologists stage my illness, which will determine the best course of treatment. Right now there are a couple of unexplained nodules in my lungs, which are the only evidence of this not being standard-issue lymphoma- all other signs point to run-of-the-mill Hodgkin's. Because of this little question mark, Dr. Peacock is going to parade my films around some kind of lung convention that is going on this Monday. If those eggheads can't figure it out, then they'll call in Dr. House.
Friday I go to Vanderbilt for a second opinion, and that's my week.