Someone Left the Gate Open

Just in case I lose you because you don’t want to read any more of this update, here’s a summary of this past week: It’s been crazy!

Want more detail? Okay. It’s been a roller coaster of emotions. It started literally a few minutes after I’d posted my last update—the one where I finished with the late breaking news that all 20 lymph nodes that had been removed were clear. After I’d posted that update Dr. Bahl, the radiation oncologist, called me with more details on the results of the PET scan. It seems there are two more spots in the proximity of the original tumor removed from my lower leg that appear to be malignant. They’re not small, but not quite as large as my record breaker. These are both 8 mm in diameter and they are of concern to them. And the only way to rid my body of these is more surgery. Oh my! (Just another detour to the end, as my friend Lori observed.)

Since Monday this week? Four doctors’ appointments, lots of driving all over the Lower Mainland to get to them (the sensitive, recovering parts of my body felt every crack in the pavement and bump in the road the whole way), bits of good news, a few discouraging revelations of realities (nothing new), but all ending up with some hope-infused, staple-removing prognosis by the surgeon, Dr. Granger.

I really appreciate that quote, made popular again in one of my favorite movies from a few years ago: “Everything will be all right in end. If it is not all right, then it is not yet the end.” I love it! This is kind of how I’ve been getting through the dark clouds while searching for the silver lining. It works. It is not yet the end!

The best part about my first appointment this week with my family doctor was getting a prescription renewal for the pain medications and the assurance that they are not addictive. That’s good. And now I have enough to get me through until everything is all right again. It keeps me in a state that is something like cloud morphine but with a governor on it. (For some never-before-revealed facts about the relationship between cloud nine and morphine, you should read my blog post on March 6, 2015.) Oh yes, my doctor said, perhaps a little infection happening at the drain site in my leg. Nothing serious. Just take these antibiotics. Okay, I think my body’s had enough now, but I’m taking them.

I can’t remember if I’ve described to you this drain system that is attached to my leg. It’s just a piece of plastic-looking-something-or-other (layman’s terms) about three or four inches long that probably looks like a miniature weeping tile. (The nurse in the hospital who was trying to explain what it looked like, didn’t know what weeping tile was, so I figured she must live in a condo in the city. I was right.)

This drain has been punched into “the” body with a rubber tube attached to it and a little bottle on the end. It’s by way of this device that various delightfully colored substances have been draining from the disturbed area where the lymph nodes used to be. It has to be emptied and measured several times a day and has to stay fastened to me until the volume drops below 30 cc in a 24 hour period. In the little over three weeks that it’s been attached, there’s been more than 5 liters of stuff that’s left my system that way.

Without that drain, as you can imagine, there would have been some serious swelling in my leg. Not a pleasant thought. Anyway, it’s this drain system that I’ve referred to as my “ball and chain.” It’s certainly hampered my mobility and required me to wear clothes I’d never imagined I’d ever wear. (Although based on some things I’ve seen, I might fit right in at the local Walmart). It’s kept me pretty much house bound. The good news is that the volume of drainage flow has been dropping dramatically over the past few days. Won’t be long now! Walmart, here I come! (TMI, I know. Sorry.)

Mid-week we saw Dr. Nguyen, the plastic surgeon, to check the healing progress on the shark bite on my leg. She was impressed with the condition of it and promised it won’t be long now. Right. Not sure how long “it” will be but I’m thinking only another couple months. In light of eternity, that’s nothing at all I suppose.

Thursday was my appointment with Dr. Bahl, the radiation oncologist. He reviewed the PET scan report with us again and confirmed that more surgery will be required to remove any more malignant melanomas. I walked away from that appointment in a dark cloud, grasping frantically for the silver lining. Didn’t see any.

Dr. Bahl is signing off of my case now, since I will definitely not be having radiation. He has referred me to a medical oncologist for consultation on future treatment options for the prevention of spreading of these things in my body. That appointment will be on April 10^th with Dr. Uhlman at the BC Cancer Agency here in Abbotsford. This will be the eighth specialist I will have seen since the beginning of December. I love our health system! And thanks again to all Canadian taxpayers for your sponsorship of this project. I’ve benefited greatly!

And Friday? Well Friday was a better day. When Dr. Granger removed the dressing over the incision area he was delighted with the healing that had taken place. This was the best he’d ever seen, he said, and the staples had done their work well. So, I made it to the record books again! First for the largest melanoma that Dr. Nguyen had ever seen and now for the best healing of a stapled together incision. All 38 staples were removed in a matter of a couple minutes. Wow! Three weeks of healing just for those couple minutes! So the only body piercing I’m left with now is that rubber tube stuck in my leg. No more metal.

I was really hoping that Dr. Granger would free me from the ball and chain. But alas! The drainage volume is not quite low enough for that. So another ten days or so and the drain comes out. March 30^th will be the big day. Okay, another week of being housebound. I’m determined to make the most of that.

The best news that Dr. Granger gave us was after he closely examined the area described in the PET scan as being the location of the other two malignant spots. He could find absolutely nothing that would indicate the presence of melanomas of the size described. Interestingly, it turns out that a PET scan will also reveal the location of inflammation. He is very confident that what appeared on the PET scan are actually two spots of inflammation left over from the original surgery on my lower leg. Dr. Granger will arrange for another PET scan in two months after the inflammation should have subsided, just to make sure. But he’s very confident that there will be no more surgery because there are no more malignant melanomas down there. Now that, my friends, is good news!

I have resolved once again to make the best of whatever situation in which I find myself. I will seldom be able to control what happens to me, but I can always control my attitude toward my situation. This brings to mind a fine piece of advice I read not long ago, and it’s this: “Live like someone left the gate open!”

Many years ago when we lived in the Northwest Territories, a shipment arrived for us on the airplane. It was sent to us from a breeder of beagles located in Edmonton—700 miles south of us. We rushed to the airport to pick up our first pet. A tiny bundle of bones and ears covered in a furry brown, black and white bag of skin. Our daughter immediately named her Toby, after her very intimate imaginary friend. Now Toby’s real name (she was a registered purebred) was Tobias of Fireball’s Fancy.

Toby was crazy. (I don’t fault her after being given a name like that.) So I bonded with her instantly. We understood each other well. Crazy is good some times. A week after she came into our home, our son was born. Yup, if nothing else, the timing of all this was crazy.

Toby endeared herself to us. She grew up with our son whom she’d let do to her pretty much anything he wanted.  She’d sit beside his high chair at the table (more potential for scraps to be falling there). He loved to slowly poke his tiny finger into her eye while she just sat there wincing. Or pull on her ears. He’d gently push his little fist down her throat until she choked. But he also fed her dinner every day. She put up with a lot. She was smart. Crazy but smart.

We discovered that what gave our Toby the greatest satisfaction was to beat us in the race to the gate when it was left open! Life's good. Gate open? Dog gone. Really gone. We often didn’t know where to. Our home was quite close to the downtown area, and one day a friend found Toby wandering up and down the aisles in the grocery store looking for peanut butter or chocolate or some other health food. Tail wagging, tongue hanging out and a big grin on her face.  She was winsome enough to smile her way past any store clerk or health inspector.

For Toby, life started when the gate was left open! The world was a big new place to discover. Nothing could beat the smell of freedom. Nothing. New places to explore, new smells, new people to meet and lick and that would bend down to talk to her.

I like that kind of thinking. I’d like to live the rest of my life like that. Like someone had just left the gate open.

After a few years of living in town and endless chases around the streets behind our crazy dog, we decided to move out to a spot in the country. We had two acres of property out there with lots of bush around us and a pond back in there somewhere. But no fence and no gate. We were concerned about what Toby would do. For sure there would be lots more interesting smells and things for her to chase out there than in town. Rabbits, turtles, squirrels and other dogs. But we determined we were not going to build a fence.

Well, the strangest thing happened. From the very first day we moved out there—to the land of no fences and no gates to be left open—our Toby stayed close to the house. She seldom left the front porch. Occasionally she’d lift her head to give a half-hearted howl (she couldn’t bark) at a dog that was three times her size, wandering down the road at the end of our two hundred yard driveway. But she stayed on the porch.

I’m pretty sure that even though she and I never talked about it much, life took on a new meaning for that dog. She no longer craved what was out of her reach. She was content to enjoy her new kingdom, viewed from the front porch. She could go anywhere, but she didn’t want to. She discovered that all she really craved was available to her right there and then. And those things were actually much more satisfying than trying to beat us to the open gate (which was always followed by being yelled at anyway). Things like a nap in the afternoon sun, the smell of fresh air, the sound of birds in the trees, owls hooting at night, rabbits scurrying by that she couldn’t have caught anyway, even if she did try, being able to go to the bathroom anywhere she wished in the bush, and the assurance of being fed at dinner time. Yup, crazy but smart.

And I’m becoming convinced that this health adventure I’m on is good for me in many ways. I’m learning to slow down and look at my life from a broader perspective. I think I’m learning how to live like someone left the gate open. Not trying to escape through that open gate, but living my life to the fullest extent right where my circumstances find me. Realizing that I could go somewhere else, but I don’t want to.

I’m finding that it’s in this place that I’m learning to enjoy the peace that God offers to me. And it’s in this place that I will be content to rest for a while and not be so quick to get up and run for the gate that someone left open. I’m okay here for a while, thanks. Soaking it up.

Selah