The first time I took the Pennsylvania Turnpike across the state, it took forever. I felt like I'd been deliberately dumped out in the middle of a bunch of Roy Rogers Restaurants and the moderately interesting scenery of a the long rural trip between each Roy. Of course, by the second time, I noticed landmarks and could say--ah, from here it's 6 hours to Harrisburg--or, Oh, the windy travel plaza on the side of the mountain--2 hours out.
Cancer landmarks haven't yet worked quite the same way--for one, they are way quicker. I've gone from bumpy tongue in late November to tongue the size of a nautilus shell at the end of February. There's a lymph node under my jaw that has it's own zip code in even less time. The fact that my tongue cancer is aggressive, and will make it to Harrisburg long before me, isn't in any doubt.
So I've wondered how to note events--for that hopeful future when I have my anniversary parties--anniversary of diagnosis, anniversary of surgery, Happy Birthday, Engorged Lymph Node,,,haaapy birthday to you!
Today was the first day that I found it very hard to swallow pills--which, I pretty much have to do. When I say very hard, I mean I had to dig the first percocets out of my throat because they just would not slide through the way they have been. The art of giving oneself pills while swole of tongue is this: A delicate pincer hold places the pill as far back as you can possibly stand sticking your fingers. The tongue, relatively immobile, no longer has the self-control or rather self-possession, to steer, or manipulate. The pill balances at the edge of the esophagus while you, head tilted back, grab the water and have enough of a blast to push it on down. I think of this as being akin to those Olympic divers who start their most intricate dives with handstands on the edge of the 30 meter platform.
Happy anniversary to a body that cannot swallow pills. And happy anniversary to the first truly happy moment I've had with my feeding tube. I cannot claim to love the benighted thing, but I felt a frisson of pleasure erupt throughout my body while I ground up my percocets and mixed them with water and sent them directly into the stomach. Nearly immediate pain relief! quite incredible. Happy anniversary to how I learned to stop whining and loving my feeding tube.
Tomorrow, I'll be back to plenty of griping. I have a series of preoperative consults and tests--all day in Indianapolis. All sorts of new health care providers will be trying to talk to me and ask me questions only to find that I cannot answer. Happy anniversary to the newly improved Silent Mark!
I'll let you know just how stupid it gets...
No comments:
Post a Comment