PITTSBURGH - PART FIVE

Having been flat on my back, or slightly elevated in the bed for nearly week, one day I looked up and a young man and a young woman were standing beside my bed. They were from he physical thearipy department. They asked me if I wanted to try to get up and get into the comfortable chair over in the corner of the room. I was hesitant because it figured to be a painful exercise, and when I was leaning toward declination, the therapists indicated how important it would be for me to give it a try, even if I only stayed in the chair for a few minutes. They SAID they'd move me back whenever I wanted. They further pointed out that the doctors had ordered it because they were worried about my lungs filling up with fluid and me coming down with pneumonia. My breathing was already vastly compromised due to the removal of part of my diaphragm and also because of the pain (I could take only shallow drinks of air because it hurt to breath deeply).

I agreed, and the duo got me sat up, spun around with legs hanging over the bed and I was ready to move to the chair. None of this was easy at all and it took a few minutes. Finally, I was ready to go the three feet from the bed to the chair - and through clinched teeth, much pain, but a lot of determination, I made it. It also helped having one physical therapist on each side of me. The chair was comfortable - it reclined but not much, and it had a leg, or foot elevator (or what ever those things are called). In a few minutes, the pain from the exercise subsided and I was, in fact, quite comfortable.

As the day passed, I noticed that the therapists didn't come back for some several hours. When they did, three hours later, I playfully complained to them regarding the abandonment. I told them I was ready to return to the bed, and they said no (also playfully). They said that I was to remain in the chair for five hours!! I exclaimed!!!! "What? Oh no. You told me just a few minutes was all I had to do. It's already been three hours". They said that they had lied in order to get me out of the bed and into the chair… Still in a playful mood, I mumbled "of all the tricks and lies… you two should be ashamed". I smiled.

"My Thompson, do you think you can stay in the chair another couple of hours? It is so much better for your breathing to be upright for as long as you can stand it", the man said kindly. I actually didn't mind especially if it was for my benefit. I certainly didn't want to acquire pneumonia, and I knew that everything I could do now would only shorten the time I had to be in the hospital.

EX-WIFE AN SON VISIT

A day or two later, I was so excited when my ex-wife, Katie and my Son, Jonathon (Jonny) arrived. They were a little shocked to see my condition and my weight (I had lost about 20 of the nearly 50 pounds that I would go on to lose). So I still didn't look as sick as they thought I should after such a traumatic procedure. Katie and I, over the years of jointly raising Jonny, had become good friends - more like brother and sister than anything else. We had been divorced sixteen year and while we had our interpersonal difficulties, for the past several years, our relationship had matured into a healthily one, centered on Jonny and his care and well being.

It was so good to see them both. Jonny looked so good. There was a couch in my room, just below that large window overlooking Pittsburgh. I don't know how they did it, but for several days, they gleefully stayed with me for hours upon hours with no visible boredom what so ever.

It was very good that they arrived when they did, because my Mother was wearing out and needed a couple of days off. She took them, and explored at least a few blocks of Pittsburgh.

Over a few days, the three of us talked about many things. Jonny regaled us with interesting stories about his Son, Carter and also funny stories from his job. I have never seen a person more capable of sitting and talking for more hours than Katie - God Bless her. She just does not tire of being with the people she cares about. Occasionally, Jonny would take off and explore the vast expanses of the hospital system, and he'd also wonder the immediate area of Pittsburgh (several blocks). He delighted in seeing the UP campus and all of the neat stores.

By the time they arrived in Pittsburgh, not only was I getting into the chair on a regular basis, but I was beginning to walk a little bit too, and Jonny would sweetly assist me on a 50 to 100 foot walk down the hallway. Katie got photos of it, and I would love to have them. One day, Jonny announced that he had found a place that I would love! He said that it was a beautiful flower garden - and if we could secure a wheelchair, he'd take me there. A little while later, we did exactly that, and it was wonderful being out and away from my room and unit. Katie, Jonny and I sat in the flower garden for some time before returning to my room. I found it so thoughtful that Jonny had wanted to take me to this place. Over his visit, he had never ever shown me so much concern and compassion. I loved it.

Late one quiet evening, Jonny, Katie and I were talking in my dimly lit room. Dr. Bartlett had told us that he would not make rounds but that his surgical assistant, Dr. Chaudray would. I was sitting in the chair; Katie was on the couch and Jonny as lounged on the hospital bed, teenager style - in walked Dr. Bartlett. I had not seen him since the surgery more than a week earlier. It was perfect, because Katie had wanted to meet and talk with him. He stayed with us for at least 45 minutes detailing everything that he had done, and how happy he was with the results. It was very uplifting and very positive. The perfect ending to the day.

Everything seemed to be going okay with my recovery, but I was shocked at how long it was taking for me to bounce back. I was frustrated that I was not getting very strong very fast. For days, every morning I fully expected to just jump out of bed and walk all the way to the nurse's station, but that was not happening and I didn't understand it. I suppose it had to do with the severity of the procedure I had undergone. (Duh). The doctors and nurses were somewhat pleased with my progress, but not entirely. They were concerned about the strength of my lungs and other things. They wanted me to begin to eat more and they wanted me to move around (walk) as much as possible (more than I was). Moving around was just too darn painful still.

On June 19, I received three visitors from Somerset who had private flown with Phillip up to Pittsburgh for the day, just to see me. Peggy Sherry, Jack Evans and Roger Todd Hunter were my visitors. I woke up that morning so excited. They were to arrive at about 11 AM so I wasted no time getting up on my feet and making an attempt to bathe. The experience was a disaster, as I was in almost intolerable pain. I also had an IV pole with had enough stuff hanging from it to medicate every patient on entire floor (or so it seemed). I badly needed to shave and the nurse brought me one cheap, single bladed razor, and I knew that would not get through my weeks beard. Katie happened to have some of her razors with her, but the whiskers were stubborn as hell. My Son, Jonny, in response to my displays of frustration, took the razor from me, had me sit on he toilet, and he shaved my beard. A few minuets later, when I needed to bathe, I experienced the same frustration and again, Jonny came in to help me bathe. He sponged me from head to toe. This is not even something I would be comfortable doing for somebody else. I don't think I have ever felt more loved by my Son! His personality is not typically one of care giving, but his sweet voice and level of concern and compassion touched me deeply. Eventually I was ready for my visitors and it was getting late.

Several years ago, I had a bicycle crash and knocked out several teeth, so know I have a full upper denture. My mother would brush and care for the denture, so she did that morning. With me fully bathed and shaved and back into bed, Mom kept asking if we knew where the tooth past was. Katie, nor me, nor Jonny knew… but she found a tube of something called "paste". She handed it to Jonny (who was deeply engaged in texting at the moment) and asked him if the tube was in fact, toothpaste. Jonny also saw the word paste and nodded his head - affirmative - it says paste. So Mom commenced to wash my denture with vast amounts of the paste. Next, she brought me the toothbrush to have me brush the teeth that were still in my mouth. Upon handing me the brush, and me taking a swipe at my teeth, I gagged and spit and exclaimed "What the hell did you put on that tooth brush?!). Upon closer examination, it was paste that was used to fasten my colostomy bag to my side!! Everybody laughed hysterically except for me. The morning had been just too difficult for me to make fun out of it - besides, I felt as if I would never get all of that thick, foul tasting crap out of my mouth or off my denture. I see it as very funny now. It just was a very difficult morning, and except for the level of care springing from my Son, it had been a horribly difficult morning (or so was my attitude about it).

The last snafu happened when I asked mom for a bottle of air freshener. She tossed me a small can and I aimed it in the air, pulled the trigger and covered myself and my bed with shaving cream.

The visit with my friends was more than delightful. Jack is my cycling teammate and presently one of the strongest men on the team. He and I talked about racing a lot. Peggy is one of my best friends and she and I share a love for art and crafts and nature. Not only is she a good friend, but she is also a great art teacher to me. Roger, the cycling club president is also the pasture of the Word of Faith Church, and he had recently become somewhat of a spiritual advisor to me.

The threesome stayed about an hour and when the wound care nurse came in the room, they left for their flight back to Somerset. I felt so loved.

In a couple more days, Katie and Jonathon had left and with no major complications, the doctors determined that I could be discharged soon, but not to go home to Kentucky but Home, to the Family House. I would remain there for a week or so, until I could see Dr. Bartlett.

As much pain and weakness as I was experiencing, I was vastly unsure how I would manage on my own with Mom in our small room at the Family House. But Home we went - the cab ride was excruciating… every foot of the mile.

(The medical aspect of this story is not even half over. Stay tunned)