Everyday Life

Since this surgery is very similar to the last surgery, I can’t help comparing the two. I talk about it with my families and nurses. But my whole inner dialog changed yesterday and it dawned on me why the one three years ago was misery wrapped in a blanket of misery and this one hasn’t been so horrible. To put it shortly – pain killers / opioids.

the whole time I’ve been here, yes the pain has been bad, but I’ve actually slept and constantly felt on the verge of dozing off. I even discussed the issue with my surgeons if it was the epidural since the last used a pain ball. They thought it was probably just stress. But yesterday, they wanted to wean me off the pain killers and so the pain would creep in. I found myself gritting my teeth and clenching my fists and I was suddenly taken back. That’s exactly how I felt the whole time I was at the U which is why I didn’t sleep. I used to think partially along the lines of the docs – it must have been anxiety with pain, alarms, uncomfortable bed. Yeah, I was battling a much worse infection, yeah I had been intubated and on a respirator for over a week. But yesterday, I felt the same crushing grip seize my body, I finally asked for pain meds. I suddenly relaxed and started dozing off. Duh.

I even did a joke about it a couple years ago.

At the U they would ask me to rate my pain and told me they could only give me Tylenol unless I was dying, even then, there were times where I was in tremendous pain and they would offer me two Tylenol. I can laugh about the absurdity after the fact, but it made the whole experience just surreal and unimaginably more difficult that apparently it needed to be. See the previous read on lack of sleep.

So in their quest to participate in reducing opioid abuse, they straight up deny pain killers to people who legitimately need them? That was insane. I’m just kind of laying here as I write this in a loss for words. I mean that experience was such a nightmare I had PTSD about hospitals for a long time and as I wrote a few days ago, I still have it. And it was all because of some righteous quest to participate in some stupid anti-abuse campaign. What a bunch of Bull Shit. Thank god I came to this hospital this go round, I kept trying to decide whether to check in at the U, but I’ll admit, I was scared, then it became an emergency. The people at Timpanogas Hospital have been amazing. It’s still had it’s fair share of trauma, but this hasn’t exactly been a day at the spa.

When you’re in the hospital, a lot of the time is just hoping to wait out the pain. I’ve probably read every piece of writing in the room 50 times. I was noting to my son that they should have two TV’s. One that is vertical and you can have it display a page of a book of your choice every five -10 minutes. I often sink into a pit where I don’t want to watch anything and just lay moaning silently. My eyes search the room. If a page just stayed up for 5-10 min, would I read it? Probably.

I made a mistake and coughed today. That hurt and still hurts.

there were two surgeons that worked on me. Total operation time was around 8 hours, mostly have to deal with scar tissue from the previous operation. Anyway, as we were talking I noted his badge mentioned flight crew and we started talking about a pilot’s license. Last time I went through this ordeal, I had no concept of time or IF I would ever recover. It was miserable. I had lost so much, still had all the cancer and didn’t feel I had any reasons to keep going apart from my daughter. Part of me making my way out was setting my own goals. Some were silly. Like if I make it out of the ICU, I’m going to try mochi balls! I’d seen them and wondered what they tasted like, but kept put off trying them. The mochi balls were only so so. I also decided to finally landscape the backyard. I had made excuses because of other “future” projects which was just dumb. That goal is still a bit of a work in progress, but largely completed. Another goal I set was to finally learn to fly planes.

i think it would be super handy to fly planes, especially since my work takes me to Wyoming a bunch. So while laying agony I started watching all sorts of videos on getting a private license, doing fly alongs, the getting a flight sim setup and what I’d need. Unfortunately, the flight sim was where it broke down for me. With things like that I’ll often start researching and then notice upgrades. I’ll think, well I need that upgrade. Then it’s the next upgrade, then another, then another. Than I just get frustrated and bag the whole thing. I’ve also gone down a similar rabbit hole with stargazing and telescopes. That was a doozy. It started with a simple 8″, then 10″. Then star tracking astral photography, then getting bigger, then bigger still, eventually I was looking at observatory photos and Hubble and simply was like, I could never compete.

Talking to the doc this time was getting me excited again, he gave me what he would do now for a license. It was practical and not ridiculously expensive. Essentially, study and take the written exam through an online course called King, then be sure to do all your aviation hours as consecutively as possible since the biggest hurdle at the beginning is retention. So instead of doing 2 hours a weekend, make it the full-time job and just blaze through it.

then he talked with me about plane ownership and how that too can be relatively inexpensive.

it’s enough to get me excited again. Something I can grasp to when I’m struggling minute by minute. Something I can think about as I shuffle about during physical therapy.

he talked lovingly of the two planes he has. One is a back-country plane that can takeoff and land with 30 feet and has 6 feet tall tires. The other is his speedster.

last time I kind of became enamored with a 6 seat Cherokee. But he opened my eyes to other options out there.

I made it up the Y for the first time in 3 years. Between work, work, chemo, surgery, more chemo, more chemo, work. It’s been tough, not for lack of trying. I just haven’t had close to the stamina. It’s kind of difficult to care about being fit when thinking you’re probably going to die. But I needed to break this melancholy and push through. And I did it and it was tough and rewarding.