Getting Older

As I was beginning to heal from my successful prostate surgery I remembered that I had a dermatologist appointment on the 26th - five days post-surgery. I thought nothing of this - it takes so long to get a dermatology appointment that I knew I could not cancel it. I had a couple of things for him to remove and a couple of things for him to look at and assure me that all is well.

I kept my appointment and filled out all the forms, hoping I would not be rejected because of my recent surgery. I honestly don't think they even read the form and I did not mention it.

I was called back into a room and handed a gown to put on. It had to be a small - I could barely get my arms through it - I am, of course, an extra-large. So I sat there on the table very uncomfortably - partly due to the tight-fitting gown but mostly due to my prostate surgery discomfort. Finally Dr. Graves, Dr. Lesher's assistant, I guessed, came in. He looked at one spot on my head and dismissed it as something very normal. I showed him a small mole under my left arm and a small "skin tag" in the inner corner of my right eye. He assured me that he could handle all that. Then I showed him two small spots on my left leg. I had been hit on my shin by a softball (nothing soft about it!) twice and had a nasty area there that always remained discolored and a little puffy. Prominent veins covered the area. The two spots were in this area and I assumed they had something to do with the old injury. Dr. Graves looked at the spots - he took a long time looking at them. Then he left the room to tell me that Dr. Lesher would be in soon. Dr. Lesher and Dr. Graves came in and went immediately to the spots on my leg. Dr. Lesher pulled out a magnifying lens and looked carefully at the spots and showed Dr. Graves what he was seeing. They told me that the spots would have to be removed and biopsied. "They are either nothing or something very bad," Dr. Lesher said. For some strange reason I did not feel comforted by his words. I reverted to a state of mild shock but had no fears that anything would actually be wrong. The doctors asked me if I would mind if they took pictures and had others come look at my spots. I didn't mind but my thoughts began to lean to the "something very bad" side. They all came in, pictures and magnified pictures were taken, and they all looked at each other as if they were seeing something in real life that they had only read about. More evidence on the "something very bad" side.

Dr. Graves came in and removed the minor skin problems quickly and then prepared my leg for surgery. He cleaned it, draped it, and shot it full of Novocain. Then he dug into my leg for about an hour. I was lying there quietly - wondering what he was doing and why it was taking so long. I was freezing in my tiny gown and I know that I was shaking uncontrollably at times. My teeth were literally chattering. On top of all this, I started to feel the urge to go to the bathroom - knowing that trying to hold it in right after prostate surgery would not be wise. Dr. Lesher came in a few times and gave some advice about the wound and surgery. "These wounds on the leg tend to weep a lot," they said as they dabbed and dabbed the blood away. Finally, he began to stitch it up. I could feel some of this but said nothing for fear he would have to start over. He finished and called the nurse in to dress the wound and tell me how to change the dressing daily. I told her I HAD to go to the bathroom. She reluctantly let me walk out of a sterile room to the filthy bathroom. Some blood came out, which I expected, but I felt much relieved. I returned to the sterile room and the nurse finished her work and told me what to do as I watched her.

Dr. Lesher returned and told me to set up an appointment to have the stitches removed and that I would hear from them within two weeks about the results of the biopsy (or "bibopsy" as I constantly hear the word after watching My Big Fat Greek Wedding). I went to the window in shock and realized that within one week I had two surgeries - I was thinking now that that was probably not too smart. I did not really hear anything the lady told me but I knew I had written instructions about the wound care - so I felt okay - but I walked to my truck in a confused state. By now it was 4:30 or 5:00pm - way past when I thought the 2:00pm appointment would be over. I saw two urgent text messages from Karen asking "Where are you?!" "Leaving MCG", I texted back.

When I got home I explained what happened and my wife was not happy and was very concerned. We prayed. The rest of the family came by and I assured them that all was well - as usual, not having any idea what I was talking about. I felt good about being home and able to prop my leg up - I felt no pain.

The next day I went to work and the leg felt a little painful. The walk to my office was longer than ever! I knew I had a full day of appointments. Two of the appointments were at the other end of the hospital - probably a good eighth to a quarter of a mile away. I decided to check with the Physical Therapy Clinic to see if I could borrow a set of crutches for the trip. I gingerly walked down the hall to the PT Clinic. They did not open until 8:00am - so I had to walk all the way back to my office. I called them at 8:00am and the person I spoke to was not too excited about helping me but she finally relented. I walked down to see them and after a wait, I got my crutches. I used them to return to my office and then readjusted them for a better fit. At 9:30am I left for my appointments at the other end of the hospital. I had to take several breaks - I was exhausted using the crutches. I finally had to walk and use the crutches only for support - that helped a little but I could feel the stitches pulling. My first patient was playing cards in the Day Room - we had a nice visit and then I went to the second floor to see my next patient. We had a great session and he was more concerned about my health than he was about his own terminal illness! Then I had to make my way back to my office. On the way I returned my crutches. I got to my office and felt hot, sweaty, and beat. I slumped into my chair and just sat there for about two hours - unable to do anything but rest. For the rest of the day I had the receptionist send everybody back to my office so I did not have to move. I propped my leg up and pushed around my office in my chair. It worked and I finished my appointments as scheduled.

That night I rested at home for a while and had Karen undress my wound and I prepared for a shower. When I finished the shower I noticed that my wound was swollen badly all around the stitches and I feared that they would pop out and I would have to have them redone at the emergency room. I was so worried - I prayed non-stop. Karen dressed the wound and we prayed again. I went to bed very worried but before I slept I told Karen that I think I needed a set of crutches. Dutifully, she and my daughter went out and bought some.

The next morning I set my crutches up so I could use them and hobbled around the house. I almost fell over trying to use them in my dark bedroom. I realized that I had a workshop I had to go to on the third floor at the VA that morning. I knew that once this was over I would be able to stay in my room and stay off my leg. However, I did not want to cancel the workshop. It was a required training and one that I had already attended a week ago - but the instructor never showed up - so I had to retake it. I had Karen drop me off at the main entrance and I hobbled to the elevator. Using crutches is so hard or I am so very out of shape - by the time I got to the third floor I was too tired to go on. I had to stop to catch my breath and let my heart slow down. I could literally hear my heart beat inside my head. I went to sign in and then walked around to the bathroom area and snuck out after a brief delay. I don't usually do this but I was not going to miss out on this workshop but I also knew I could not walk all the way back to my office. It took forever to get back to the car. Karen drove me around to the Mental Health entrance. I had her wait for about five minutes so I could get up the energy to make it to my room. I developed a huge respect for the handicapped people I have impatiently waited for in the past. I made it to my office and just sat there catching my breath. Thankfully I had about an hour and a half of peace and quiet before my first patient came. That day, as if God knew what I could handle and could not, only two of my four patients showed up. I left work as soon as I could and did as little as possible at home.

I had prostate surgery just a week ago and I was beginning to have increased symptoms of problems (mild pain, increased blood in the urine) and I realized that I was violating my urologist's instructions to not lift anything (I was lifting my body weight with each step I took). Karen also warned me about this. I know I COULD have taken time off from work but I am not made that way. All I could think of was the hassle of rescheduling and not being there for my patients. I only had one more day to go and then I could use the weekend to relax and get healthy. I vowed that I would not use the crutches beyond Friday and I stuck to it. I found I could bear weight on my foot with only mild discomfort. Thankfully, it no longer swelled up and I was getting better and better. I felt good enough to go to church that Sunday and praised the Lord throughout the service.

I felt much better throughout the weekend and I felt my prostate was healing also. I went to work Monday and did well walking. On Tuesday morning I went to have the stitches removed and I believed this would make a big difference because I thought the stitches were pulling against my deeper skin levels each time I moved. Karen went with me. A frumpy little guy who I assumed was a technician came to remove the stitches. Karen did not like him much but I loved him because he was removing something that had caused me a lot of pain. 10 stitches and six butterfly bandages later, we were walking back to the car and I was on my way to work. Tomorrow will be the 4th of July - so another day off and another day to heal.

Getting older - I found out that what the dermatologist removed from my leg was basal cell carcinoma - everyone says it is the "best kind of skin cancer to have". It does not feel like "the best". It feels like cancer. It does not hurt and I am not worried but this is one more piece of evidence that I am getting older. Psalms 118:17 says, "I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD." This is the verse that I believe the Lord gave me when I went to Iraq. It was true then and I believe it will be true with all of this. Thank You, Lord, for Your faithfulness and for all of these things.

~GJH~ 03 July 2012