Thursday, 11.30.06

Time to go back to the hospital for the first chemo
It's funny how I had dreaded going back up til yesterday, but now I'm absolutely okay with it
Guess I know there's no way I could get out if it

A part of me is actually excited 'cause the bad cells are gonna get zapped for the first time soon
Though I know I'm going to start feeling the side effects of chemo
it's important to keep in mind that no wars are without casualties
6 chemo treatments for a longer happier life
that's a damn good deal if you ask me

Thursday, 11.23.06

Exactly one week after I first checked into the hospital, I'm going back to the Operating Room for a second surgery.
I was lucky that Dawn came to hang out with me all evening yesterday to keep my mind off of this cardiovascular surgery. People from work came in 3,4 different cabs after 9pm to check up on me. It was wonderful to have the support. I felt like I have my personal cheerleading squad.
I'm the surgeon's first operation today. That's good 'cause I don't have to spend the entire day anticipating.

**************************************************************************************

They came to get me shortly after 8am. One would think the second trip to the OR would be easier, but it wasn't. I was more nervous and anxious. I don't remember how long I waited in the waiting area. It felt unusually long. In the meantime, my imagination went wild. I wondered if anything happened to the surgeon. Maybe he went out partying and got smashed the night before and he was driving through every red light on his way to the hospital. Maybe they found something new between the last time I saw my doctor and now, and I don't have to have this surgery after all. I felt this chill spreading through my body from the inside out, existing from my finger and toe tips. I took a deep breath, calming my mind by thinking about the way Nuages sleeps. Pretty soon, a lady came to ask me some questions. Then they wheeled me into the OR.

In the OR, music was playing and lots of people were talking. They were talking about breakfast actually. Kind of sick if you ask me. The anasthesiologist came to ask if the IV hurt my hand, and I replied that it had been bothering me since it was put in last night. I endured a few painful tugs on the back of my hand from her experiments, and she determined that we might have to "fix" the needle inside. She took the tapes off and pulled the needle out just a bit, and it made a huge difference. When she massaged the back of my hand, it felt so good that I actually smiled.
She then injected a bit of anesthesia in and I began to get dizzy and weak. The last thing I remembered was my surgeon by my side. I wanted to ask him if he was alright this morning, but someone asked if he wanted to say anything to me. My surgeon looked me in the eye and said, "Don't worry. I'm here." and I went to sleep.

************************************************************************************

I heard someone calling my name.
I felt the wind.
I opened my eyes and saw a short nurse walking beside me.
"Time to wake up." she said.

Someone's calling my name.
My bed is rolling over a bump.
I opened my eyes and saw the same short nurse walking beside me.
She smiled.
"Good. You're waking up." she said.

"Chang Hsing-hua's family please come to the door."
Someone's making the announcement.
Mom's gonna see me in a few minutes.
I gotta open my eyes.
But I just wanna sleep.
Gotta wake up, Kate.
But I just wanna sleep.
Show mom that you're okay.
Wake up, and stay awake, Kate.
"I'm hungry." I said the moment I saw my mother.

Wednesday, 11.22.06

I got up early, had my dressing changed, strapped my tummy up, and headed to the bathroom.
For the first time since the surgery, my body is strong enough to take care of herself.
I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and towel-washed my body.
I want them to treat me as a person, not a patient.

Whimpy moments still persist.
My stomach turns and my eyes well up when fear invades.
I don't let it advance and conquer.
I took a good look at myself in the mirror.
I repeat in my mind,
I'm strong.
I'm smart.
I'm mature.
I'm intelligent.
I understand what might be waiting ahead,
and I think I'm ready for the worst.
I just need a bit of time to prep myself.

Back in my "room" I looked around to decide where I should start tidying up.
Folding the covers and clothes is such a care-taking gesture.
I've gotta be strong for those who are being strong for me.
Just like I needed them to hold me up on my feet the day after the surgery,
now they need me to help them stand still.
I'm a person, not a patient.
Whatever the doctor is telling us today,
I'm not gonna take it lying down.

Three Days After the Surgery

The moment you sign the agreement for surgery, you sign away your privacy and dignity. Essentially, you grant the doctors and nurses the right to watch you, touch you, poke you, and feel you wherever and whenever they want. Your intelligence gets foggy. Civilized expressions that reflect education and sophistication are reduced down to monosyllabic jibberish. "Would you be kind enough to tell me what you are injecting into my IV drip?" gets shortened to an "En?" "Would you mind adjusting my bed so I don't feel like my wound is burning?" becomes a prolonged nasalized moan. Even when your roommate annoys you, all you can do is to think about the million different ways you could tell them off if you were well. It's not a bad thing, really, for some of us turn that annoyance into motivation to get better soon.

Self-respect does not exist in hospital wards. When you are busy dealing with pain and aches, smelling your own armpits to make sure you don't stink is the last thing on your mind. Comfort is everything, and hospital gowns are comfortable and convenient. Though it might be an eye sore for most visitors, walking around in a hospital gown with your butt hanging out is in fact quite an enjoyment. Patients in the gynecology ward behave completely differently from women in the outside world. They frown on tight-fitting clothing items and smile at loose PJs; they would not hesitate to slip into a pairs of slippers but could not stand the sight and sound of high heels.

In the hospital, survival is of the utmost importance. Everything else.... Who cares about everything else. Seriously.

My eyes are closed but I'm awake
My mind is trapped somewhere between the dreams and the reality
I know what every sound is
I feel his every turn
I count the number of times my cat jumps in bed to check on us
I'm anxious
I'm relaxed
I'm nervous
I'm sleepy

I feel the right side of my tummy throbbing
I tell myself to stop it
I see that I'm getting fatter
when I think I should be getting thinner
"counterintuitive" was the word I taught in class yesterday
I try to get on the Internet
I feel the urge to write
It doesn't work
Late at night in the dark
The Internet fails to work
My mind's buzzing and my body's tired
I can feel my pulse in my left temple
That's a headache I'll have for the rest of the day
Great

I think about surgery
Mom had one
Dawn had one
Carol had one
Who else
"Robotic Surgeons" was the article I taught tonight
incision, insertion, internal organs, infection
Endoscope
wound
recovery
I taught the kids how to use context clues to figure out the meanings of unfamiliar words
I wonder if they learnt something

Right! Surgery
I'm scared shitless and I'm prepared
I'm curious and I'm knowledgeable
I'm green and I'm experienced
I wonder if being put under will be the closest experience to dying
I wonder what will happen if I never wake up

The cyst/tumor/whatever-it-is has been living a very healthy life in my ovary. It has grown 0.4 centimeters since September. At this rate, it will be 3 centimeters next month.

The cyst/tumor specilist I went to see yesterday told me that he's concerned with the fact that the "thing" I have has got a bumpy surface. If it's indeed a cyst, it should have a smooth surface (like a water bubble). He asked me to do a blood test, and we'll do another ultrasound next Tuesday to take another look at that "thing."

**********************************************************************

A colleague of mine just had surgery to take her half of her thyroid out. She told me that she suddenly burst out crying like a baby, with wrinkly face and everything, before they put her under. I remember my mom doing similar things when she was about to go into the operating room. I wonder if I'll have the same reaction.

**********************************************************************

Although it's still quite early, I've already started doing research on different surgical options. Of course, there's no good or bad when it comes to choosing a surgery. It's absolutely no fun at all. Period.