Illinois, It's Been Real

First off, Bridgette's doing great. Nearly back to normal, except for that 6.25" incision thing. She and I recently had a wonderful weekend spending time with friends, making the most of this brief time back home to catch up with those we miss. It was a beautiful day, so I whipped up some grilled brats, burgers, and asparagus, while others prepared some salads, chips, and snacks, and we all enjoyed an adult beverage or two.

It's not easy playing host for a large group, and I usually have my better half to help me lift and move and general provide a respectable amount (likely majority) of labor. But too bad this time she got to claim "doctors orders" or some sort of rubbish. She said something about a "scar" and pain "meds" ... sure, whatever. And then she went so far as to suggest she was missing an entire organ. Psht! Unbelievable.

All joking aside, I actually had a great time running around, pulling out the yard games, and lawn chairs, and helping prep the watercraft death vehicle. I was lucky enough to catch the photo here of Brad.

Unfortunately, at some point, my own personal celebration of Bridgette's recovery caught the best of me, and I promptly found a bed to pass out fall asleep on. My sincere thanks to those that helped clean up and leave the place in excellent condition for us in the morning.

So what have we been doing since then? Well, Bridgette returned to Springfield to wrap up bride's and bridesmaids' dresses, and even managed to squeeze some insurance claims in there. I have stayed up north in Elgin to complete some graphics work for my father, and help lock down appointments with wedding vendors for when we all venture out to Idaho next week.

But before we leave for Idaho, my family is congregating for a reunion this weekend to celebrate birthdays (sister's and brother's ... maybe mine a bit?) and catch up before we all part ways, whether it's San Francisco, Atlanta, Boise, Chicago, or Paris. I've heard rumors that pinatas will be involved; stand back.

So expect more wedding-planning posts before we get back to the good ol' fun of adventuring across La France.

Farewell Bikini Summer

Ok, I'm sure none of you have been able to sleep, so I'll relieve the anticipation ; ) We have one lucky winner being Ms. Laura Novick with her guess of 6 1/4" for the incision length. Way to go! Adam even got a sneak peak of the thing and still guessed about 3" over. Yes, it's quite deceiving.

Now on to a year of keeping it covered from the elements (the nurse warned against sun and frost. Frost?! Like I really look like the roll-in-the-snow-naked kind of person?) and a farewell to a summer of bikinis. My girlfriends were saying they've actually seen some really cute one pieces out this season, and I wondered if they were just saying that to be nice, or that our tastes really are turning old. (no offense all you one piece wearers...it's just that I haven't worn a one piece since about 8th grade, and the only people I ever see wearing them are either kids or moms : ). Well, just an excuse to go shopping now, I guess.

As for everything else, life is slowly turning back to normal, and in our downtime, Adam and I have been enjoying the ability to relax, play games, read books, watch movies, and, oh yes, wedding plan. I sit in our living room looking at the forest of flower arrangements and get-well cards and think, wow, it looks like someone just had a funeral! Crazy to think that all these symbols of good thoughts and prayers came from such a variety of friends and family who where able to reach out from all over the world. I think that's the part the makes me tear up the most - not the pain from the surgery, but the amount of love that really surrounds me. It's freakin' incredible. Thank You Everyone!

From here on out, I just don't know how exciting our blog will be for awhile since most of the scare and worry has subsided, but then again, that's how we want it, right? With fingers crossed that everything heals as planned, Adam and I still will be plowing ahead with our summer agenda - time home with the family, out to Idaho for some wedding planning at the end of June, then back to France to explore the south for the rest of the summer. I do have a mandatory check-up at the Mayo in three months, so I'll be headed back to the US for Labor Day before heading back and starting Chapter II of life in Paris.

How Long Will it Be?

Yes, fellow followers, all is well and good here on my end as our crew finally made it back to Springfield yesterday afternoon to settle back into lives outside of hotels and hospitals. Hopefully Adam was able to keep everyone up to speed throughout the past few days, but now that I'm feeling a lot better, I thought I could add a few of my own thoughts from the past experience....

Surgery. What a whirlwind tour THAT was, but fascinating all at the same time. Getting up at 4:30am, checking in by 5:30, meeting with the doc one last time at 6:30, then being stripped down and taken into pre-op all before 7; the Mayo seriously is a well-oiled machine. One of the surgeons warned me that pre-op would be like being in the NASCAR pit with everyone doing a million things at once to prep me to go, and she couldn't have been more right. Fascinating. Almost a week later, I still have the 'tattoo' of the surgeon's initials to say I was officially ready to cut open. Apparently, Sharpie has found its way to be used as an official medical tool.

As I was signing my life away before the start of the procedure, I had one surgeon ask me very seriously if I accept getting a blood transfusion if needed. I said, "Of course...I agree to whatever you see fit to keep me alive! My only request is that you give me the right type of blood. No mixing that up, now!" I chuckled, and I think it took him a sec to notice I was trying to make light of the situation. But then again, I suppose you don't have too many jokes flying around at 6:45am right before surgery. Looking around the pre-op room, there was a dozen or so more gurneys getting prepped to go, and no one looked like the joking type. Everyone was at least twice my age and looked miserable. I was hoping I would at least find the young guy I saw at my MRI to assure me I wasn't the only 'kid' there. No show. According to how this tumor works, though, I'm about 30 years too early to have this, but the surgeons all showed their thanks for my 'under-aged-ness' along with the fact that I was under 250lbs. I can only imagine how much easier I just had made their jobs.

From pre-op, I got rolled into the OR where I was chatting away with three lady surgeons about France. They stuck me with and IV and some cold fluid started trickling in, right after getting my permission for an epidermal in the spine. I said yes yes yes! Anything to forgo pain, and they laughed when I told them a quote from a girlfriend who recently told me, 'this is the time to forget everything you learned in DARE.' Say yes to drugs! Next thing I know, I was back in the pre-op room feeling nauseous and being told to sniff something alcoholic to ease the swimmies. Little did I know, a good 5 hours had already passed.

The doc originally said he figured the procedure would take anywhere from 4-6 hours, and if there were any complications, he'd be out to discuss this with my folks before proceeding. My parents were prepared for at least a solid 4 hour wait, so when they were met by a nurse telling them to follow her, they said there was a feeling of sheer terror. Shit, what had gone wrong! Was I dying? Oh no, the doctor just wanted to say they were all finished, and the other surgeons were simply doing their final stitching. The job was easier than expected, the tumor was cut out, and no other major organs or arteries had to be touched. Again, the best news ever. They, now, only needed to wait for me to wake up so I could be moved to my hospital room.

As for the rest of the hospital visit, you got the main gist from Adam, so I won't go into much detail there, but man, is it good to be home again. Last night was the first time in over a week I didn't need to wake up to an alarm clock or another nurse coming in. For most of the stay, I was woken up about every two hours to take meds or check my blood pressure or something. Now the real healing can begin.

Besides a constant ache throughout my body, the sheer pain when I chuckle (which can be deadly around my family), or my extremely slow movements, most everything else physically is feeling back to normal-ish. The queezies have gone away, and I thank the lord for my lack of a hangover sensation coupled with my achy body. At least now I can sit around and read or watch TV without feeling like I'm going to vomit....which btw, hurts like hell after having your whole stomach ripped apart. And don't even think about crying either. That hurts even more than laughing. I can't even imagine handling all this as a little kid where this whole situation would probably have me in painful tears over everything.

So here I am now with a new scar to sport as well as a revised belly button. I've always had an outie, but before the procedure, it started swelling out even more. Turns out, the docs found I had a hernia in that spot, so they did a bit of stitching that's made it more compressed. They joked this was the 'plastic surgery' part of the procedure, and that my bill for $6000 would be in the mail shortly. Ha. So weird. But anyways, here's the real quiz for you all:

My incision runs down the middle of my stomach, around the belly button, and just a bit further on.....sooooo, how long do YOU think the scar will be? You can round to the nearest 1/4."

Puzzles, Flowers, and Stained Glass

Bridgette's systems have been working since late yesterday, and with the doctor's approval this morning, she decided to pack things up, grab her prescriptions, and escape the hospital.

On the way out, we stopped by the puzzle Gale and I had been working on ... it'll just have to be completed by someone else hanging out in the waiting room:

Thank you to all the friends and family who sent flowers. They really do help brighten the room! We had to hunt down some boxes to move the "green house:"

As we pulled up the car, we took a moment to check out the big stained glass window. (This is the desktop background on all the computers throughout the hospital.)

And so, with little effort, Bridgette has made her way back to the hotel room for some more relaxation in a comfy bed. If no problems arise before tomorrow, she'll be back in Springfield before she knows it.

Hospital Sleepover

Bridgette's recovery has been relatively good. Following a good day Friday of downing fluids like a fish, talking, and even walking around the hospital floor a bit, Saturday was rough. She spent most of the day battling a stomach that would not put up with what she wanted to put down, be it tea or crackers. The nurses were very attentive to the situation, and the day ended up being a game of trying to time pain-killer pills around lost bellies and short naps. Bridgette's girlfriends were considering visiting, too. And knowing what state she was in, she was bummed that conversation would have to wait or at most be kept short.

So early Saturday afternoon, I was accompanying Bridgette on one of her walks down the corridors, as she fought off the shivers and dodged gurneys and nurses. We found that one hallway has a little extra heat near the windows, so that served as a nice goal for the walks. On our return, however, the Sharkeys appeared out of nowhere to greet her with hugs and flowers. We all walked our way back to the room, where Bridgette's exhaustion required more napping.

During that sleep, Jess and D showed up, too, so we all had a few hours of hanging out in the waiting room, catching up, until Bridgette woke up. Once that happened, she still was feeling crappy, so we decided to let her nausea meds kick in while she slept a bit more. Luckily, by the end of dinner, I got a text that the nausea had passed, so Bridgette was able to spend some real time chatting with the friends before they made the trek back to Illinois.

In case a rough night was ahead, I decided to crash in the hospital room. The sleepover was mostly uneventful; no ghost stories, video games, or eating s'mores. We were both spent after the friends left, so sleep came around 9.30pm (how incredibly exciting of us). The cot here was surprisingly comfortable, and both Bridgette and I think the blankets here are magical -- somehow thin and light, yet cozy and warm. At midnight, a nurse came with pain meds, and at 4am, another to take blood. 6.15am: the doc for a checkup, and finally around 8.30am, nature was calling. We started the day with yet another walk down the corridors to the comfy, warm hall with the windows.

Thankfully, today's nausea is more under control, and Bridgette has been able to keep down not only tea and crackers, but even a bit of scrambled eggs and French toast. Go, team! She's been sleeping a ton in between walks, snacks, bathroom breaks, and a little reading time. We (and the docs) want to be sure everything is under control with her digestion before we leave the hospital, so no definite end in sight, yet.

As I write this, she's sleeping, the parents are close by, and we're all relieved today is another "easy" day. Time passes strangely here: strangely fast, considering we're all doing mostly a big heap o' nothin'. We're all proud of how strong Bridgette is, and we can't wait to get her back to Springfield for some R&R without nurses waking her up every 4 hours. No offense, RNs out there.

Surgery Update

Sorry, no puns or jokes for this post: Bridgette has left surgery with no complications and things are looking very good. We expect her to be out of recovery soon.

Here's contact info once she gets to her room. Looks like at least a few days in the hospital.

Farewell, Scarless Belly

Tuesday. The biopsy results finally came. I had quite a sleepless night the evening before with the phone by my side waiting for the doc to call, for I just knew it would be first thing in the AM. My phone rang at about 7am, which jolted me awake, and I stumbled out of bed to answer. To my dismay, it was only the service guy trying to get into my condo in Chicago to fix my renter’s thermostat. Ugh. That call about gave me a heart attack.

At this point, I was exhausted from a poor night’s sleep, but wired with anticipation. The doc then called about an hour later with the news, and he said that it was what he had expected, a renal cell carcinoma cancer. Wow, it was quite strange to hear someone finally blatantly say it like that. I have cancer. It really seems so unreal because aren’t you supposed to feel really sick when you have killer inside you…albeit a silent one? Anyways, he added that it was actually a very rare type (only 2-3% of cases) of this sort of cancer called a chromophobe renal cell carcinoma instead of the typical clear cell cancer, and this all was very very good news. He continues that this Grade 2 (on a scale from 1-4) cancer was not very aggressive and has been less likely to cling on to and destroy other organs. The cure rate for patients like me is way higher than those with the true ‘garden variety’ renal cancer, and with this news, I had to take a huge sigh of relief. The docs would not need to do any chemo (thank god I get to keep my hair for the wedding next year!) and would be ready to cut me open and just scoop all this crap out. My brother asked if we could bring the goo home in a jar. His girlfriend (a nurse) simply stuck up her nose and described how disgusting cancer really smells. I had no idea it had a distinct odor, but apparently it does, and it’s something you never want to smell. I think my insides might need some fabreeze when this is all said and done. And with all that, we agreed not to bring the tumor home in a jar.

Wednesday. My parents and I headed from Springfield up to the Mayo and Adam and his mom joined us from Elgin. At 3:30, I had my first MRI, and all my loyal fans waited patiently for me in the lobby. Like I had mentioned in an earlier post, I had had the opportunity to help design an MRI room at my last job, so it was cool to finally be the end user. Once, I had heard that the magnet is so strong, you could put a strawberry (which is full of iron) above the epicenter of the magnet and it would simply float, and when asking the doc if he had ever heard about this he simply said, “awww, sweet!, really?” Guess I just gave him something to do in his downtime, ha. In any case, I went through the motions and let them zap me with magnets for almost an hour to get all the images they needed before tomorrow’s surgery.  Not really much to do while laying still in this tube looking at the plastic tube above you except listen to the clinks and clanks and beats the machine makes. I think you could easily take all those sounds and make a really sweet dance beat. I could just see us all now in some underground club fist pumpin to some MRI beats. What?!

 It really did feel like summer here, and to celebrate my last night of double-kidney-ness and a scar-free lifestyle, we went out for drinks, appetizers, and a great dinner at a local wine bar we discovered our first visit here. Ironically, we noticed that the guy sitting behind us at dinner was the same guy ahead of me for my MRI appointment. Seriously, what were the odds of that? Is this town really that small?