These are the words of gold that came from the lips of our wonderful surgeon, Dr. Christine Gourin, this afternoon after Cathy’s surgery was completed. I can’t begin to convey the relief we both felt. It was like taking off those pantyhose that are 3 sizes too small on a hot, humid summer day.
It began earlier in the morning, when we arrived at Johns Hopkins. Of course, we got lost on the way, even with our fancy GPS (I guess it helps to put in the correct address). After the initial check-in, they took Cathy away to put on her patient’s gown, lie in the gurney and get an IV inserted. Then I got to stay with her for about 45 minutes before they took her into the operating room. Cathy had spoken to the surgeon before I got in, but on the sheets she signed, we were informed that she was to have a biopsy of the right tonsil mass, an esophagogastroduodenoscopy, biopsies at the base of the tongue on both sides and a possible tonsillectomy—all this ‘just in case’. Fortunately, the surgeon did not see anything beyond the ‘white pearl’ shaped tumor in the tonsil. She did take the left tonsil out, too, because she wants to check it. I think, though I don’t know for sure, that if the left tonsil is gone, the likelihood of the cancer spreading outside of the tonsil area is decreased. Dr. Gourin called Cathy a trooper and there, I know, she’s right again.
When I got a chance to go back to pre-op, she was awake, looking a bit like a chipmunk on an autumn day, with a load of acorns. She instantly tried to speak which lead to what I called ‘pigeon sign language’. Pointing, thumbs up or down and loads of head nodding until I could get her a pad of paper and pen. Then she peppered me with questions about what the doctors had said, what’s next, etc. I joked with her that it might be a blessing in disguise that she will have to use a dry erase board for a while. This brought a smile to her face and just the slightest, sweetest, squeaky bit of chuckling. I knew my Cathy was back.
We waited about an hour and a half for the prescriptions to be filled and for the nurse to keep her drugged up for the ride home. This was classic Cathy, too. She kept drifting in and out of focus, repeating what she had just told me and even suggested that these were much better drugs than those we had in the 60s. Finally, I picked up the medicine, came back to the front of the hospital with the car and there she was, in her brightly colored sweater that my mother had given her, with a big groggy smile.
We got on the road to Washington (ugh, I-95 in rush hour out of B-mo). One stop one the way at McDonald’s to get the first of many milkshakes so that she could stomach her pain pills.
Finally, home in Takoma Park at around 6:15 PM. We were greeted at the door by two black poodles who were eagerly waiting. On up to bed and tucked in for the night.
The next few days, she is supposed to stay in bed, eat soft, liquidy foods, stayed drugged to the max and REST. Ha! I might have to assume the personality of Nurse Rachet from One Flew Over the Coo-coo’s Nest. In a week or so, we’ll head back up to Baltimore to visit with the radiation oncologist to set up an appointment schedule for her treatments.
We are both so glad we got the biopsy and forthcoming pathology report. The results will tell us precisely what type (HPV-related?), size and level of involvement of the cancer. This information will impact the treatment and prognosis.
Then, we’ll take the next step, one day at a time.
Thank you ALL for your good wishes. We felt the love all day.
