Pittsburgh - PART EIGHT

PART EIGHT -
COMING HOME AND BEING HOME

July 12, 2012

By the time it came to leave for the airport, I was exhausted. Mother and I had taken a cab to see Dr. Bartlett that morning, and then another one back to the Family House. Of course, I had to pack up my things, which weren't extensive in volume, but over a months worth of original stuff and then some buildup while in Pittsburgh as well, it amounted to a seeming mountain of stuff. We caught another cab to the small, regional airport, Allegany County, that we'd been using; a little larger than our own airport in Pulaski County, KY.

Large city cab drivers are breed apart from the rest of humanity. Even though we had called Yellow Cab, The White Cab Company soon showed up and asked if we waned to go to the airport. Mother and I were confused. We didn't know if this was the cab we summonsed, or if another cab company was stealing clients, or if the cab driver simply saw our luggage on the porch and assumed we needed a ride to the airport. When we tried to extract more information from the cabby, he simply repeated himself. "Do you need a ride to the airport"? - becoming visibly upset with us. What a rude and odd fellow, we thought. Being anxious to get going, and not at all sure this was truly our cab or not, we agreed to go with the idiot, resigning ourselves to the fact that we were not going to get any clarity from him. During our stay in Pittsburgh, the strangest, least civilized group of people (by far) we had met were the cab drivers.

By the time we arrived at the airport, I was truly exhausted. I was still getting around using the "walker" the hospital had gotten for me, and I had done far more on this day than on any other since before the first surgery. Once we'd gotten all of our stuff into the lobby, the lady at the counter was a big help to us in that she was able to tell us where Phillip (Cross) was, our pilot in his flight. She said that he had just left the Somerset/Pulaski County airport and would be arriving at Allegany (the place we were) in a little more than an hour.

Despite the appearance of brazen disregard for other travelers, and assumed extended rights regarding the use of airport furniture, I found a very soft couch, laid down and promptly feel into a deep sleep. Soon, Mother woke me up, telling me that Phillip was currently landing. I sat up and marveled at the depth at which I had slept.

Of course, I was in a great deal of pain - I had the wound vac attached to my stomach, and I also had my colostomy bag. I was worried about the flight being too bumpy - as that produced extreme, antagonistic pain in my abdomen.

Phillip soon entered the small lobby and greeted us warmly. Since Phillip and I had spent the entire flight coming up to Pittsburgh talking, and since he was a member of our cycling club, he felt more like a good friend to me rather than a new acquaintance. I was happy to see him. He politely got our belongings onto the small, twin engine Cessna. He then got Mom and I on board and fixed us up with headsets. Mom and I were seated such that we were facing each other across a rather large open space for such a small plane. Because the plane was so small, and the engines made so much noise, the only way to communicate with each other was by using the headsets, which blocked out almost all of the noise.

Soon we were up in the air and flying southwest. I was relived that the takeoff portion of the flight had not generated any accelerations that caused pain in my abdomen. We listened as Phillip got his flight assignments from various flight controllers on the ground. It must have been a shock to Phillip to see me again, after five weeks. I was vastly diminished, physically and I weighed a full fifty pounds less than when he had brought me to Pittsburgh, five weeks earlier. Whatever the cause, once Phillip got his official instructions from the ground controllers; he requested modifications regarding altitude in order to generate the smoothest ride possible for my sake. And he was successful. There was not a single bump on the entire ride - and for a small plane, that is amazing aviationship on Phillip's part. If he saw a bank of clouds ahead, he requested a different altitude, to go either above or below the possible turbulence. Ground controllers granted his every request.

Indeed, what I had feared be a terrible experience, the flight home was totally serene and absolutely spiritual. WE WERE GOING HOME!!! Once I realized that there would be nothing to hurt my wound, Mother and I enjoyed flying through the dusky Ohio River Corridor. As the sun went down, the sky turned various shades of pink, yellow, orange and red all backed by a fantastically deep blue sky behind. Mother later confessed, it was all so beautiful and surreal, she momentarily wondered if we had died and were now on our way to Heaven.

As the sky turned completely red in the days last gasps of light before full night came on, we landed in Somerset/Pulaski County, Kentucky - our home. Beany/Bubba, my stepfather was waiting for us and we unloaded our things. We promptly headed to Mothers house where I was to stay for an unknown period of time. I certainly was unable to care for myself at my own home, as I live alone. So even though I was "home", in Somerset I was not quite in my home yet.

I was so glad for Mother who had been away from home longer than she ever had been in her life. As for me, had it not been for the extreme discomfort I had experienced in Pittsburgh, I would have been miserable, toting around the wound vac, and having to adjust to the colostomy bag, and taking care of that on my own. I was still in a great deal of pain, of course, and I could not walk very far in any given attempt. UPMC (University of Pittsburgh Medical Center) had arranged Lifeline to provide an in-home nurse for me three days a week to assist with my wound care and my colostomy maintenance. As the days went by, some of my strength came back, and I was able to move around a great deal more. My friend Peggy Sherry came by to pick me up on many days, and she'd take me out for a drive or take me to Hobby Lobby. I had to use the walker in the large stores, but I had ceased using it around the house. I didn't need it unless I was to be up on my feet for more than about ten minutes. Eventually, I didn't even need the walker at Hobby Lobby.

Not long after returning home, I went to see my general practitioner (doctor). He had not received medical records from UPMC who had claimed they sent them. He examined my wound and listened to my heart and breathing. Since I had not been cleared to drive, Mother was with me. I felt anxious to explain to the doctor about my procedure and how hopeful I was about its possible success. In the absence of the UPMC medical records, I was going to explain the procedures I had undergone to him, but he interrupted me and said it wasn't necessary for him to know. My Mother then exclaimed that I was CANCER FREE as Dr. Bartlett has explained to us in Pittsburgh. My doctor then proceeded to explain to us how the cancer WOULD eventually come back and cautioned us not to extend ourselves too far in to areas of false hope.

I found my doctor's comments to be objectionable, especially since he had no interest in learning anything about the procedure I had undergone - a new procedure that is seeing some remarkable success in other patients. Of course, my doctor could very well be correct and the cancer has a good chance of returning - we all know that, but I felt as if the doctor was purposefully killing any faith and hope we may have acquired.

His comment basically invalidated my entire trial at Pittsburgh. And that I could not tolerate. I have chosen not to see this doctor any more, and I have replaced him. I hated to do this because he always acted as though he truly cared about me. He treated me with respect, and he provided good medical services for several years. I consider him a friend. But I simply cannot survive this illness without complete and total optimism not only within myself (which is a enormous struggle anyway), but especially in my doctors. If they have opinions that limit the time I have left, I simply do not want to discuss it. I can't. This one conversation I had with my doctor sent me into a tailspin that I still have not totally recovered from.

I stayed at Mom's for nearly four weeks, and came home to my wonderful cat, Max and my garden (which had been cared for by my house co-inhabitance, the Crabtree's.) They live in the downstairs portion of the house. They also checked on Max every day, and my sister Carrie and Peggy stopped by occasionally as well. Even though I spent many afternoons here at my house over the four weeks I was staying with Mom, Max was glad to have me home for nights - and every day. Max and I soon got back into our normal patterns. Things were in good order.

It is now August 20, 2012, and I have procedures (ordered by UPMC) all this week at LCRH. I am very nervous about my CT scan this week. It will show if the cancer is all gone still. Down deep inside, I try to feel if it is - my senses are strong at times. Yet, I don't know. Part of me believes that they will find the cancer again. I still have a lot of pain, and some of the pain is well away from my wound. I suppose, once you've had cancer and cancer treatments, you worry about every little ache and pain. This is common among my fellow "survivors".

It is shocking how physically diminished I am still. I used to be (just a short time ago) one of the most agile persons I knew and now I have great difficulty with even minor obstacles. Because I am unable to resume my normal pre-cancer activities, cycling training, fishing, ginsenging, teaching and other things, I have been sewing a lot and working with leather. I have also been able to continue my project of photographing the year's wildflower blooming as they occur.

As I heal and seek further procedures and treatments for the cancer, I am preparing a collection of my photos to show at the Cedar Creek Vineyards "Art in the Vineyard" event on September 8th. So, I have not been without enjoyable things to do. I feel depressed sometimes, and other times I feel very tired and extremely emotional. I simply do not know what the final outcome will be in this whole ordeal. At times, even though it has been very nearly a year (August 26, 2011) since I learned of the cancer, it is still hard to believe this has happened to me. I don't believe I have had even a single moment of self-pity, and through all of this, I have learned that I am not necessarily afraid to die. I just really don't want to.

I am still in a great deal of pain. In fact, I have not been completely pain free since June 12. When all of this started back in June, I weighed 174 pounds. I got down to 128 pounds and I am now holding at 132. When my friends see me for the first time since the surgeries, some of them are visibly shocked. When I see myself in the mirror, I feel as if I am looking at a mere fraction of what and who I once was. Yet I know my full essence is still very much intact, and unimpacted.

This week, I dread. I dread any medical procedures what so ever. My experiences in Pittsburgh have caused me to fear doctors and procedures. I suppose that is normal.

Days will go on; things regarding this cancer will change. I will get better, or I will get worse. I am alive today, and I will probably survive this week, and this month. In all likelihood, I will survive this year. Beyond that, I simply do not know at this point. I have to live day to day and I have to do the things that are right in front of me.

This is the last installment of my story. I hope you have enjoyed it. In terms of cancer, my friends, please please do not delay to have prevention visits to your doctor. Get those mammograms. Do those colonoscopys. Check out odd and especially long lasting symptoms, no matter how mild. Had I gotten a colonoscopy just one year before I did, when I was having a lot of constipation, I would not facing what I am facing now.

So if I have reasons to have sat and composed such anguishing text and told my horror story, first and foremost is to help people decide to do everything reasonable for early detection of any cancers. Most cancers are now a very curable disease. But it must be caught reasonably early.

I also wanted to write the story in order to process it emotionally for my own mental health. I appreciate very much your interest, your commentary, your prayers and your support. It has lifted me up so much.

Please consider coming to the "Art in The Vineyard" event at Cedar Creek on September 8. I will be there with much of my artwork, most of which has been completed in my recovery. Here is the information on the art show.

http://cedarcreekvineyards.net/index.php/thegrapevinemobile/12-events/20-art-in-the-vineyard-2012

God Bless all of you and I will see you on September 8th!