Rollercoasters and Teacups
The key to a successful marriage is not finding someone just like you, but rather someone who compliments you. Early on I discovered that Dave will clean bathrooms while I vacuum and dust. I handled suctioning baby noses and he did splinter and teeth removal. He eats the dreaded orange popsicles and I eat the rest. At theme parks, he rides rollercoasters and I do spinning rides like teacups. I have never understood the appeal of climbing slowly up a structure just to plummet to the earth again without getting time at the top to enjoy the view and then doing it several more times in a row. Dave loves those rides and has passed that love on to our youngest two which means I can stand at the bottom with my feet planted firmly on the ground holding everyone’s stuff.
Dave’s surgery happened mid-December just before the holidays. After talking with both the surgeon and radiation oncologist, we decided to remove the tumor and lymph nodes and follow-up with 30 radiation treatments. It would mean two separate recoveries, but in the end the tumor would be gone. In the weeks between making the decision and the surgery we did lots of research and felt we knew what to expect in the post-op recovery period. We anticipated a feeding tube for 24 hours or so and a hospital stay of 3-5 days.
Day 1, I took our Christmas cards to address, my sister-in-law and friend came to sit with me and make sure I ate. Our oldest daughter and son came mid-day to be there when he finished and to hear what the doctor had to report. The OR nurses called every 90 minutes or so with updates and the doctor was pleased with the results. He got all of the tumor, removed 67 lymph nodes and the only hiccup was having to remove a small amount of Dave’s epiglottis in order to clear the margins. The surgeon even used the words “he’ll never miss it”.
Dave was remarkably alert and could even talk with us in recovery. There might have even been a little singing as he came out from under the anesthesia. The incisions were long, but not nearly as scary looking as we had anticipated and the drains were smaller and less frightening as well. We moved up to our room about 12 hours after he began surgery and with the exception of the hissing oxygen vent in the wall, the first night was pretty uneventful.
Day 2 began with needing to move the feeding tube further down which took two tries and long story that I won’t share. The hissing continued as we worked out a pain management schedule and took the first of many walks around the nurses’ station. Day 3 dawned with the surgeon’s visit and the scheduling of a swallow study that unfortunately revealed that Dave might in fact miss that epiglottis after all. A second study would happen on Day 6 because they don’t work on the weekends. The feeding tube continued to be an issue, we did more laps around the nurses’ station and the hissing was our constant background noise. Day 4 was a repeat of Day 3 but with a little bit of water on a spoon practice for the next swallow study.
The hissing from the oxygen vent in the wall went from “white noise” to unbearable for both the day nurse and myself on Day 5, so we moved rooms, practiced swallowing, walked around the nurses’ station and fought with the feeding tube some more. Talking and swallowing became more difficult and so did managing the pain.
The drains came out on Day 6 which was great news and meant a real shower. The second swallow test showed that about half the epiglottis was missing and that relearning to swallow and a permanent feeding tube were now the course of treatment. A surgical intern (younger than 2/3 of my children) came in to explain and we now faced the one thing Dave had hoped to avoid through both treatments – an abdominally placed feeding tube that would need to stay in place for a minimum of 6-8 weeks.
Day 7 began with a second surgery, more coffee in the waiting room with my children and sister-in-law, the third visit to recovery since we started this adventure and Christmas Eve in the hospital. But, the removal of the feeding tube from his nose lessened Dave’s pain and elevated his mood. He tolerated the feedings and we learned to use the tube for both nutrition and meds. Day 8 meant we could go home once all the papers were signed and our meds were delivered. We spent Christmas night at home with family!
This whole experience was a series of feeling positive and successes, followed by setbacks and unforeseen complications. There were beautiful sunrises we watched together from the 15th floor lobby, holiday movies on the iPad at night, time with all three of our children and lots of sitting quietly and holding hands. Those often got overshadowed by the all the medical treatments that went awry and the unexpected complications for which we had not been prepared.
A few weeks after we were home and Dave had regained his swallow and life seemed more normal, I realized that the hospital stay was indeed a rollercoaster ride. The fear, anxiety and wondering what would happen next were the climb. The brief time at the top were those quiet moments that I will treasure and are more precious because of the plummets that were the many setbacks that followed. I will always prefer the spinning teacups in life, but if I have to ride a rollercoaster, I’m glad to know that I can survive it-especially if I’m riding it with Dave. But he still has to eat the orange popsicles.