6 a.m.
A miserable miserable night. I slept just three hours, finally getting to sleep about midnight but they woke me at three a.m. for "vitals," BP and temp, and that was it. May have dozed a little after that but no real sleep. The back hurt terrible and still does. Only time during the night when my back did not hurt was when I had a severe stomach ache, a kind of cramp, not in the bladder but in the stomach. I was about the call the nurse when it began to subside. But then the back pain retained. Even the pain pills didn't seem to help much.
Only now, about 6:30a, has it slackened somewhat, enough to write. What worries me is whether this is normal. Why it is taking so long. What if they screwed up my spine somehow? The thought terrifies me. God, if I had known this I would gladly have taken the general. A couple of hours of oblivion and then an hour of nausea would be heaven compared to this. Even the BPH symptoms were preferable.
The question now--other than the pain-- is whether I get to go home today. Probably wont know until noon or later.
Called M this morning. She is going to go to work until we find out whether I will be going home. Didn't really mean to make her feel guilty, but probably did with my pain, nothing to read. Don't even have 35 cents to get a paper. Well, as long as I am able I guess I can scribble in this notebook. Not that it's going to be very interesting for a journal. Just kind of "for the record." Certainly don't feel good enough for much in the way of introspection or philosophizing.
When you are in pain, only the pain means anything. It just crowds out the ability to think of other things. Perhaps one could, with time--which I hope I do not have--learn how to, not accept so much, but to objectify the pain, observe it and describe it. What did V. Woolf say? Or think of Norman Cousins, one of my intellectual heroes, and his book about his own battle with illness. It is possible, then, one must learn how, force oneself. Laying here, I have discovered that the TV has WOSU-FM radio on it, so I am listening to nice classical music and scribbling here. In truth, it does seem to alleviate the pain somewhat. Or is that the pill possibly kicking in?
Don't know. And don't even know what to write, just know that I must keep pen to paper, keep going for I can feel the back pain, lurking, waiting to pounce the minute I give it an opening. Which it does not seem to have as long as I scribble. Even when I pause for a moment-- to collect a thought, think of a word, start the next sentence, I feel it.
Who knows maybe none of this will even be legible when I try to transcribe it later. If I do. Maybe, when I am home, feeling better, bored, unable to do much more than sit at the computer, maybe then I wont bother to try to decipher these chicken scratches. May just start over. I don't know.
What if the anesthesiologist (illegible)...Interruption for BP, seems to be up a little, 160 something over 90 something--and temp is 97 point something. Wonder briefly what that means. Who knows. Maybe nothing.
The important thing, I guess, as far as going home is concerned is how clear the urine --if indeed that's what it is, the effluvia from the radiator flushing--how clear it gets. Stays red and bloody, then I probably here for another day.
Tired, cramped, laying here. Breakfast soon, but strangely I really do not feel very hungry, although--also strangely, considering the fluids running through me--I feel dry, thirsty. Sip a little water. Lay back, try to stretch the legs out and not tangle the tubes going and coming out of my body. Back now just a dull ache, but even when I think about it, in order to write this, it seems to get a little worse. Don't think about it.
Was thinking during the long night when I was able to think...Interruption. M comes in. I am surprised to look up and see her there, smiling, holding the morning paper and a book. Must have made her feel guiltier than I thought. But it really made me happy to see her. She didn't stay long, but went on to work. Will be back to take me home, if I go, or this evening, if I don't.
Still no breakfast and also lying here wondering if I must use bed pan for bowel movement. Haven't done that since I was a kid. Might be a problem. Don't include this in transcription. Back pain starting to return.
9:00 a.m.
Dr. G just came in and I finally got a full report. Apparently I was too groggy yesterday to remember anything. He said all went well and I should expect "remarkable" improvement. He described the problem as a kind of walnut-sized growth on the prostate that sort of acted like a ball valve, closing up against the bladder, then opening up again when pressure is released. He admitted when asked that this was "unusual" but not unknown. He said he doubted very much that it was cancerous. Previous blood work had not indicated any sign of cancer. As for sending me home today, he admitted he is "not exactly crazy about the idea" but will check back in later this afternoon.
He did stop the IV although I still have the catheter. I am able to get up and move around and I think that will do as much as anything to help the back problem. Desperately need to get up, brush my teeth, wash, hopefully a BM.
He did not volunteer this, but when asked if it were pretty much a "textbook" procedure, he said yes, although he did not say this with much enthusiasm. I got the feeling that the walnut sized growth was a little puzzling to him. He also did not hazard a guess as to the cause of the stomach ache.
He said the back pain was probably not so much the anesthesia as the way they had me lying on my back, legs up, in the operating room. Don't know whether this is good or bad. At least may indicate no spinal problems.
Immediately after Dr G left, Nurse Kim, a pretty efficient young lady--but then aren't all nurses--removed the IV so I am now unhooked, except for the cat. Of course, must carry the cat bag with me when I move around.
To tell the truth, although I am anxious to get up and move around, another part of me is a little reluctant, perhaps afraid of somehow making things worse, or maybe just discovering something bad that I do not want to discover.
But, anyway, here goes. I will be getting out of this bed for the first time in a few nominates, after a little more (illegible) and writing to give the guts a chance.
Have started thinking about the possibility of writing an article about this experience. Need to ask Dr G some general questions, such as the incidence of prostate problems in men, etc., do some research. Think I ought to be able to come up with something.
10:15 a.m.--
Up walking around a little more while Kim made up the bed. Also talked to KP and BL at the office, gave them the latest. BL is especially interested since he is approaching 50 and admits he is already having symptoms. At his age I would guess that surgery is inevitable for him eventually. Also talked to M at work. She is going to take off a little early and try to be here around four when Dr. G is coming back to let me know if I can go home.
A volunteer brought around a checklist of today's and tomorrow's meals. Maybe she knows something I don't relative to going home today. But OTOH, maybe its just routine. The choices seem rather fatty for a hospital: fried chicken, roast pork, eggs every day. Had to scratch to find some fresh fruit, cereal. They did have a check mark for "small helping" which I checked. I would soon get fat in here with all this food and no exercise.
Talked with brother Bob for about half an hour. He's at work as a security guard in a bank operations building and mostly just sits around so we both passed the time. His wife MJ, who had the heart attack is, he is afraid, becoming too negative and depressed. He must force her to do the exercises, etc., that the doctor ordered. They are thinking, too, that they may not go to St. Louis over the Fourth as planned so we may not either. All the doctors and writers on aging that I have been reading keep saying that mental attitude is as important as physical health in living a long and active life. You cant let it get you down, "dwindling," as they sometimes call it, when you gradually lose interest in life.
Bob is now an official short-timer, with just four more weeks to work. We discussed, as we have many times before, what he will be doing. He says he has many projects lined up--they all say that--talked also of travel. He and MJ had planned a long trip out west, see all the things they have never seen, visit their kids and grandchildren who live on the coast. But now, with MJ's health, who knows if they will ever get to do it. A shame.
Read and write. Read and write. That's all I can do. I read a few pages, get tired, maybe bored even though the book I am reading, Jack Finney's Time and Again, is far from boring. Then pick up the notebook, write a paragraph or two, again get tired and bored, or maybe just tired of bored, or tired of writing what is basically boring.
3:45p--
Dr. G came back in. Wants me to stay another night, keep the catheter in until morning. Has to do with swelling, allowing a little more healing. Fine with me if that's what he thinks.
I also asked him a few background questions about the prostate and its problems, research for a possible article.
6:30p--
M just left, tired, didn't want to go, but I insisted. Listened to radio as OSU baseball team lost in their NCAA game. Will read and try to sleep.