Part 155 Clouds and sun


The weather remains pleasant the following week as I continue working half days at the office, plodding along despite lagging in energy and strength. I meet with Dr. Bl- again, who plans on removing the stent next week.

I eat many foods, including crab and swiss cheese, pasta with veggie meatballs, gumbo, pizza, and shrimp nachos, successfully downing all as long as I drink the obligatory two glasses of milk with each meal. At lunch out with co-workers, I am forced to take half of the oyster poboy home in order to finish it, but I am still in there fighting.

I am plagued by bouts of diarrhea, the result I am sure of my still unsteady gastro-intestinal situation. I feel as if my world is still cloudy, with moments of brightness and hope, but other times when I can’t quite pull out of the fog that lingers. My timelines for being well have changed so often over the past many months that I still cannot hang my hat on a place where I am totally healed and able to live as I did before all this started. The ambivalence is weighing me down, almost as badly as when the day’s headline news was always bad.

Some anniversaries are not for celebration; rather, for remembrance and reflection only. Such is the case when September 11, 2011 arrives. It is ten years precisely since the national tragedy occurred. This day, a Sunday, is decidedly far better than that time now so long ago. Despite my continued gastro-intestinal problems and my (now apparent) hernia that sharply pinches my groin as I leave for church with the kids (Becah is doing a triathalon in Kingwood), I feel more emotionally comforted. It is amazing how you can suddenly put things in greater perspective when you pull yourself out of yourself for a moment and take a world view.

I am not out of the woods, though. My pain erupts big time midway through church, and I run to my car and sit there for a time with an ice pack in my lap. When I re-enter the narthex, I am grabbed by stomach pains. The kids and I leave early for home, where I quickly lie on the bed with an ice pack and my legs elevated. The pain grows so intense that I must take a pill for it. The pain gradually diminishes, but nausea grows. I promptly jump out of bed and begin vomiting. I feel something caught in my throat, reach my hand in, and discover a string! I try to pull it out, but it is caught. I realize this is the wire that is attached to my stent that holds it in place. I freak out! Becah (who has returned by now) texts Dr. Bl-, who assures me it will be okay, and that I should just remain calm and continue to swallow.

I continue my abbreviated work week. At lunch I mix crab with egg whites and mayonnaise for a tasty lunch. Dinner features pasta with sun dried tomato sauce, and I am encouraged by my appetite and by how my taste buds are reviving. Brooke catches a fever later, and joins us in bed in the middle of the night. The next evening, she continues to feel punk, but that’s nothing a little “Lord of the Rings” won’t fix.

By midweek, I am at the hospital early in the morning, and by 8:15 Dr. Bl- has relieved me of the stent in my throat and the wire attachment that I have been trying not to gag on. The swallow study that follows looks real good, and we are quickly out of the building. We stop in at Taco Milagro for my favorite dish of theirs- sweet potato enchiladas. After that we drop in to Old Navy to look for some slacks for me, since my weight loss is causing my clothes to fall off me. One pair of pants rings up for 47 cents, so that is the price we are charged! Back home, I take a nap, tired but smiling at the brighter day that has been given me.