For those of you who don’t know or maybe have never experienced it, chronic pain from illness or injury, over time becomes more and more difficult to live with. One thing it usually causes is fatigue. Doctors generally prescribe narcotics for chronic pain but these cause drowsiness and make living a normal life virtually impossible.
Thus, I wanted to deal with the pain as the first solution had run its course. What to do next? My oncologist felt chemotherapy would solve my problem but chemo is poison and kills both good cells and bad cells. Not the best answer in my point of view. I discussed this with my oncologist, Dr. Lee, and I suggested surgery to him. It seemed so simple—just cut the offending growths off and be done with it.
Dr. Lee pointed out to me that the offending cysts sat on my liver. The liver has a very important role in our bodies. It cleanses our blood, among other things; therefore it is full of blood as it goes about its business. He said most surgeons are reluctant to cut into a liver except in extreme circumstances. To me this represented an extreme circumstance so I insisted. He called around and one day told me he’d found a surgeon who would do the surgery.
I’ll call her Dr. Nice as I don’t recall her name. I found her sympathetic, caring and kind. She, too, voiced her concern but since I was adamant she agreed to schedule the surgery. Since she knew it would require a blood transfusion and she felt it would be best to use my own blood, I deposited blood at the hospital prior to the surgery—two pints, if I recall.
On a day in April, 1999 I went under the knife for the fourth time due to the cancer. This scar, evidence of my many surgeries joined two other scars from operations on my abdomen. My husband and I referred to the result as my “road map.” Despite all the concern, the operation went well. The surgeon reported to me that she removed only a small portion of my liver and that may have been the reason I had no difficulty following the surgery.
I remember well the day I went home from the hospital. A friend came to drive me home since Larry couldn’t take off from work. As we drove home the news on the radio related a shooting at Columbine High School. It was April 20, 1999, a day none of us will ever forget. At home, ensconced on my faithful blue floral sofa I watched horrified with the rest of the country the events at the school. It was a glad day for me as I recuperated from the operation but a sad day for so many. I rejoiced in my renewed health but mourned the heavy loss of life on that day.
I need to report here that the “ultimate answer to the pain”, as I thought of this surgery, lasted only a few months. By October the pain returned and with it the need for another answer.
Looking for a lasting solution I made one of the worst decisions of my life.
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