What "They" say, Whoever 'They is"....

Before I start today, let me say I am typing this with a splint on one arm so I'm somewhat restricted.

They say that cancer is the "C" work, They say that cancer is frightening. They don't know why. They drive past hospitals only knowing what they've seen on Greys Anatomy or Dur jour (Note to self:  Take a french class so you can use french phrases that you speak but don't know how to spell). We live our lives in fear never speaking the word lest we bring a pox on the house. We give to cancer charities, do walk-athon, out the wazoo. For what? I didn't know about breast cancer, and I hate to admit it but was not that compassionate about it. It just sounded like a little 'lump" you could just cut out. whats the big deal? (unless its  the whole big removal job, that sounded scary enough, just not frightening enough to walk from
San Francisco to LA for. I will say that it feels like I have paid the high price of both my lack of compassion and my ignorance.

When the doctor told my what I was facing I wanted to go, get it out, lets move. In hind sight I don't know if I would have done it any differently, but that's how I went into it. Eager. Eager for the whole thing to be over. Today, I probably would have lingered, gone to a beach and cleaned myself in the Pacific. Gone to Nola for a quick binget and walk down the moon walk. The Mississippi River just sooths my soul and helps me to relax. There are about a thousand things I should have done because in my ignorance I didn't know the truth of what was about to happen. Here is the story (warning not for the squeamish).

You know that they were removing half of my tongue and replacing it with a graft. It would be a 10 hour surgery. I woke up at 5:00 am on Tuesday following my surgery. It could have actually been another time, that's just what the nurse told me later. They were prepping me with an additional IV and I remember the pain in the way only a wounded child knows pain. You're hurting me. Why are you hurting me? I remember my bed being rolled around a maze of walls and into an elevator the volume of the ride cranked up by the hallucinogenic effects of the morphine. (They need to come up with some pain med's that don't do that) This was a bad trip. Each new corner reviled itself as as a new entity sometimes demon) Finally In my room there was no sleep to be had. You have people prodding you constantly. Checking various items on their hourly schedule. I was given a morphine pump called my new best friend by my nurse. I was told I could push the button for some liquid relief every 10 minutes. I watched the clock which seemed frozen in time. Waiting for my relief (which never came). The nurses were completely mine the first two days (which I am now to understand is a luxury). None of them spoke English as their first language and had all had heavy accents. (with me with no Tongue and not able to speak and others with accents making this have the feel of a drug binge gone awry in a forigne country (and you know those never end well). by day 2 I was allowed to sleep for two hours at a time. Still being told by  my nurse to keep plunging the morphine drip. After my dear friend Theresa paid a visit and turned into a black foam demon with shiny faux floral flourishes, realized its the drugs and got off of them. Damned the pain and the demons were freaking me out.

Gang I am cutting this short today. Typing with the arm brace is taking too much out of me. Be back soon I promise!