| John reading the paper - 28 September 2014 |
This was quite a week. Nothing very astonishing, just the mundane ways in which illness changes everything. On Monday we were expected for an afternoon appointment at Massachusetts General Hospital but that morning John woke up with alarming symptoms that nearly made us panic until we finally reread the literature and learned that this was all to be expected and not to worry. So off we drove to Boston with the usual misadventures of missed exit, wrong turns, blocked streets and spirited discussions of who was to blame. Eventually we arrived in the controlled chaos of a system which doesn't really care if you are a few minutes late because you will sit around and wait in any case.
I had pictured a nice conference room with physicians around a big table but in fact five physicians crowded into a small exam room where John and I were in the only two chairs available. We were introduced to each (two urologists, a radiologist, an oncologist and a mystery doctor). Based on our Northampton physician's suggestion that John would need need several chemo treatments and eventual surgery, we hoped to get a time frame for all that. In fact, we learned that they planned to redo the same procedure John had on September 3rd in Northampton, and only after that will they discuss treatment options. This new TURBT is scheduled for October 6th.
On Tuesday morning the symptoms about which we were not to worry had turned into a full scale urinary blockage that had us rushing to the Emergency Room at Cooley Dickinson Hospital. Here John was given morphine and a new catheter and sent home with cheery assurances that all would be well. All was not well and on Wednesday John returned to the ER, this time with a blocked catheter. On Thursday he was back at CDH, this time for a chest CT scan ordered by the doc at MGH. On Friday we returned to Boston for an afternoon of pre-operative discussions and procedures-- EKG, blood test, and urine test that was complicated by the catheter. The catheter, about which the nurse at MGH did not know, flummoxed her a bit and gave us a rueful laugh-- but a rueful laugh is better than no laugh at all!
Thus we had a week in which John went to one hospital or another on each of five consecutive days. Proving again the old adage that one can get used to anything, John seems far less concerned about the second surgery-- and since the first one was much worse than expected, it is reasonable to expect that the second one will be much better.