thejunipertree (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thejunipertree) wrote2004-06-03 12:38 am
thejunipertree) wrote2004-06-03 12:38 am
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The surgery actually happened today.
And it went rather well, all things considered.
They did find a very small tumour on her abdominal wall, which was removed as it was in the way of the sutures they planned to sew in. The surgeon also felt the tumour in her liver, which he said isn't very big (about the size of a quarter, which means it hasn't done any growing in all this time of no chemo) and isn't placed in a bad spot. He also felt the tumour on her kidney, which is blocking one of the stints.
I saw her after the surgery, briefly. I didn't want to stick around as I was bone tired, for one thing, and because I wanted her to get some rest. She asked me not to leave, so I stayed for a short amount of time. But, as soon as she started to feel the effects of the painkillers, I skipped out.
Sitting in the surgical waiting room earlier this afternoon, I knitted for the first time in months. The Cookie Monster blue fun fur scarf that I started in December and never finished. Pulling into myself, I lost my consciousness in the stitches and the clicking needles. In my head, over and over again, I repeated one phrase:
Don't dig her grave yet, Baron. Don't dig her grave.
After some time, I realized I was saying it aloud. I looked up, glanced around to see if anyone had been listening and was now reaching for the phone to call security for crazy-girl-removal. No one seemed to have noticed, except for one man sitting across the way from me.
He seemed very tall, even from his sitting position, and his teeth gleamed brightly against his black skin as he flashed a grin at me. I couldn't make out his eyes, as they were hidden behind tinted glasses. But, he nodded at me and said, "That's a nice scarf you're working there, girl." I stammered a thank you and rose, suddenly and desperately needing a cigarette, slightly embarassed that someone had heard my mumbling.
As I passed him on my way out the door, he tipped an imaginary hat at me and crossed one leg over the other. I smiled over my shoulder and he nodded again, returning my smile with one of his own.
Outside, I lit my cigarette with shaking fingers and wondered whether he just happened to know who I was praying to or if my quiet prayers had actually called the Baron to briefly ride an unsuspecting horse. Either way, when I returned to the waiting room, he was gone.
And it went rather well, all things considered.
They did find a very small tumour on her abdominal wall, which was removed as it was in the way of the sutures they planned to sew in. The surgeon also felt the tumour in her liver, which he said isn't very big (about the size of a quarter, which means it hasn't done any growing in all this time of no chemo) and isn't placed in a bad spot. He also felt the tumour on her kidney, which is blocking one of the stints.
I saw her after the surgery, briefly. I didn't want to stick around as I was bone tired, for one thing, and because I wanted her to get some rest. She asked me not to leave, so I stayed for a short amount of time. But, as soon as she started to feel the effects of the painkillers, I skipped out.
Sitting in the surgical waiting room earlier this afternoon, I knitted for the first time in months. The Cookie Monster blue fun fur scarf that I started in December and never finished. Pulling into myself, I lost my consciousness in the stitches and the clicking needles. In my head, over and over again, I repeated one phrase:
Don't dig her grave yet, Baron. Don't dig her grave.
After some time, I realized I was saying it aloud. I looked up, glanced around to see if anyone had been listening and was now reaching for the phone to call security for crazy-girl-removal. No one seemed to have noticed, except for one man sitting across the way from me.
He seemed very tall, even from his sitting position, and his teeth gleamed brightly against his black skin as he flashed a grin at me. I couldn't make out his eyes, as they were hidden behind tinted glasses. But, he nodded at me and said, "That's a nice scarf you're working there, girl." I stammered a thank you and rose, suddenly and desperately needing a cigarette, slightly embarassed that someone had heard my mumbling.
As I passed him on my way out the door, he tipped an imaginary hat at me and crossed one leg over the other. I smiled over my shoulder and he nodded again, returning my smile with one of his own.
Outside, I lit my cigarette with shaking fingers and wondered whether he just happened to know who I was praying to or if my quiet prayers had actually called the Baron to briefly ride an unsuspecting horse. Either way, when I returned to the waiting room, he was gone.
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Surgery etc.
Am keeping fingers and toes crossed for the future too.
And the fuzzies are crossing their tails!
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I'm going to be the voice of bluntness (sorry)
Don't dig her grave yet, Baron. Don't dig her grave.
Not yet, which is good news, but three tumours suggests the inevitable. Prepare yourself for this one. It sounds like it's going to take a while and it's going to be a long and drawn out process. And it's about a person you care about.
And remember Crito, we will owe a cock to Asclepius...
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It already is a long and drawn out process. Those three tumours are the most recent in a long line of malignancies. This has been going on for two years and some change.
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*multiple hugs*
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If you call, call on my cell. *hug*
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That in itself is so great to hear.
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True. And some go into remission by themselves. Fingers crossed and all that.
Dammit, my next PhD is going to be in biotechnology, I swear...
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Thank you so much, miss. I know this is something she will appreciate.