Part 73 You must be kidding


“You must be kidding”. This I remark to my wife when she informs me that my esophagus was expanded from 12 to 15 cm. and another procedure will be done in two weeks for the final pull to 18 or, if possible 20 cm. Of course I initially was just grateful to wake up with no complications. Being alive and healthy is always the best place to be. I also respect the fact that Dr. Ra- is being cautious and does not want to rip the organ by pulling too much in efforts at minimizing the number of operations.

A few evenings later I am back at home expecting great things from my newly expanded esophagus. I attempt pizza, one of my favorite foods of all, but find that it is so dry to my mouth that I must dip it in spaghetti sauce to have any chance at all of finishing even one slice. Eating continues to be slow and laborious. The next day is a mixed blessing. I can now feed myself completely, untwisting the cap on the Ensure bottle and pouring it into my tube, unassisted. I am sobered, though, by the fact that I must continue to rely on the tube at all for nourishment and cannot simply eat my food, any food, like anyone else.

July, my favorite month, ends. I have time to reflect, but unfortunately use this time to think of what has gone wrong in my life. I was not supposed to get ill. My treatment was to have lasted for a limited time, after which I would resume my life. Instead I inherit an entirely new problem. When I have it treated, I suffer complications that must be surmounted. Neither my swallowing nor my fine motor problems have been resolved. My birthday, anniversary, and fourth of July celebrations in Florida never happened. Here I am now.

You must be kidding.




Part 74 Fields of gold


We take Bree out to celebrate her sixth birthday on August 6. She wants to eat again at Red Robin, and I order the chowder with some confidence. However, I have difficulty getting it down. This upsets me, since I had a recent dilation and should not have this much trouble swallowing chunks of food in a cream sauce. But I am cautiously optimistic, knowing that I will soon receive another procedure that should help me. The following day Bree enjoys her birthday party, painting ceramic works with a dozen friends at Art for Kids. The next day, I continue my exercise regimen by working the machines at the gym, and am pleased with my physical progress. After one day back at work presenting a program to a group of teachers, I am ready to return yet again to the medical center, where Dr. Ra- and his now generally familiar staff manage to enlarge my esophagus from 15 to 18 cm. Dr. Ra- deems this a success, noting that the two centimeter difference between this and his ideal of 20 is not significant, and that I should be able to eat most anything. I am back presenting at work again the next day.

On August 12 I go for a PET scan while Becah meets her stepmother Linda at San Jacinto mall. She trades our kids for a Chevy Traverse to test drive for a few days. In fairness to her, it isn’t a literal trade. Linda takes the kids back to stay a few days with her in Nederland, driving Becah’s car so Becah can check out a possible new car. Becah’s dad Billy runs a used car lot and has many connections in the Beaumont area for obtaining cars, and he has found this SUV for her to try. That night Becah and I watch a Columbo together while I am actually able to successfully eat a cheese enchilada!

Becah drives to Nederland to pick up the kids, I spend some time by myself. I am getting stronger - the yoga, jogging, and pushups are working. Becah returns Sunday in the Chevy which we will be buying.

We meet with Dr. Bu-, my original oncologist, who reviews the PET scan results on Monday. The scan is good, but the radiologist noted a swelling in the right lobe in the brain. Initially distressed, we ask if that could be related to the stroke/TIA/whatever that I experienced. Dr. Bu- says he forgot (!!) about that, then calls the radiologist who will write an addendum to his report. The great news is that the radiologist had at first recommended my having an MRI again to check out this activity, but with this new information will not suggest further testing. The otolaryngologist sees me next, scans my throat, and deems it fine. We stop at the store on the way home to buy dinner and champagne to celebrate our good fortune, listening to Sting’s “Fields of Gold”. Before enjoying veggie tacos, Bree says a touching prayer about my treatments being gone.