The oncologist shares and office with my gastric doctor and I am eager to hear what he has to say. I am more eager for Dr. T to take a look at my incision. I check in with nurse Christine and she immediately tells be that Dr T. needs to take a look. She pages him and I wait - Patty and Michael are with me and Christine has said that it looks like my incision will probably need to be lanced as it appears infected. Oh how my motherly instincts serve me - but to be lanced! This does not sound good. Christine assures me that a local anaesthetic can be applied / injected - but we need to wait for Dr. T.
After much debate we all decide dropping down to the oncologist is probably not going to work out so we call his office and have to reschedule for either after my visit with Dr. T or at a later time....we wait for for Dr. T.
Dr. T finally arrives - the following is full of foul language and smell...be warned before reading on.
Dr. T takes one look and then asks Michael and Patty to move to the waiting room just outside the office I am in. Dr. T tells me to lay back and try to relax - he is going to need to lance my incision. Christine takes my hand and tries to make me comfortable. I ask about the anaesthetic - Dr. T says it is not going to help at this time and that he needs to proceed. I should envision a calming place, say the beach. I think oh fuck I don't think so. Remember that plastic that was poured into my incesion well that stuff has to come out first. Shit - and that is just the beginning of the term shit.
Now my incision and the surrounding area - all around my belly button is red and swollen. Image a surgical tool made of metal picking out the plastic poured in - then imagine me screaming bloody murder of SHIT and if you touch me one more fucking time I am going to pass out from pain. The lancing had not even taken place yet - both Dr. T and I were growing more and more frustrated. He trying to concentrate - Christine trying to calm me and me trying, really trying to endure what is more painful than birthing my daughter.
I take deep breaths and visualize the water, Dr. T makes the incision and then with his 6 foot frame of surely over 200 pounds presses down onto my stomach to a burst of infection that comes out with the foul stench of a port-a-potty. I am screaming from pain and fear that my colon is now exposed - why did I not go back into the hospital for this? Dr. T reassures me that this is a cleaner and better environment and all is almost over - just hang in there! Dr T. continues to clean out the infection pouring water into the incision hole and then suctioning the liquid out. I have closed my eyes and began begging for mercy. My colon is not exposed. Yes, the drama is wildly out of control.
Slowly Dr. T then fills the wound with a bacterial healing gauze and gives me an antibotic perscription - when we are done Michael and Patty come to my rescue. Christine helps me up and Dr. T tells me he will see me in his office on Sunday. They are going to have a visiting nurse start next week and have my wound cleaned on a daily basis. O.k he has redeemed himself by coming into the office to care for me on a Sunday, but really!
Remembering all of this I want to cry. I have felt such an invasion, and my body trying so hard to recover. Surgical infections after colon removal can often happen given the nature of the location. Bacteria and waste - surgery and recovery.
I have survived one more step.
3 things to be grateful for:
Michael and Patty
Christine
Dr. T (maybe I am a bit pissed at him still)
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