The Lewis County Herald 11/8/22
I’ve generally avoided change but feel I’ve adjusted pretty well when dealing with it.
Since receiving the prognosis of colon cancer on my birthday, I’ve known there would be changes and have tried to mentally prepare myself for some of those. I didn’t fret over them but I knew I’d have to cope with them.
When Tammy and I first met with the surgeon in Lexington he gave us a few scenarios as to what might happen during the surgery.
It was then I learned I could have a stoma and that it could be temporary or permanent.
A couple of weeks after that meeting we traveled back to Lexington where we met with a team at the hospital who would prepare us for the procedure to remove at least the portion of my colon where a cancerous mass had been detected.
The extent of the removal was left up to the surgeon to determine when the procedure was underway.
One of the team members we met with was a stoma nurse who reviewed the options with us and determined two locations on my belly where a stoma, if needed, would be.
The locations, a couple of inches on either side of my belly button, were indicated with a surgical marker. They were circles about the size of a half-dollar which were colored in by the marker ink.
The nurse presented me with the marker along with instructions to keep the large dots colored-in so the surgeon could easily find the locations, if needed.
One was needed. The one on the east side of my navel, by my orientation.
The surgeon had explained to Tammy, immediately following the procedure and before I regained consciousness, the loop ileostomy would be temporary and would be reversed after about four months.
I had realized the surgery was over when my body, through the immense pain from the trauma of the colectomy, told me so. I was in the recovery area and the post-surgical team was preparing to transfer me to a room.
I didn’t realize until later that night that a plastic bag had been attached to the right side of my abdomen with some powerful adhesive.
Some of my friends and coworkers participated in my recovery with the assistance of this authentic healing doll.
There were lots of other things which had been affixed to me by various means, some of which I wasn’t sure of the purpose.
Most of the post-surgery events required only brief adjustments on my part. The pain and soreness are sill there but have diminished greatly in the six weeks since the procedure.
Most of my adjustment has been the day-to-day functioning with a stoma and its associated apparatus.
I realized a couple of days following my procedure I would need to focus a great deal of attention to this digestive detour until January when the surgeon is slated to complete a few steps which will reconnect an internal pathway between point A and point B.
On Wednesday night (following the Monday surgery) Tammy had returned to her motel room across the street to recharge and get a break from the seemingly constant traffic in and out of my hospital room.
I was able to move about pretty freely, now encumbered only by a wheeled IV pole, a drainage device, and a stylish open-back hospital gown.
The nearly quart-sized pouch attached to my abdomen where the stoma is located had remained nearly empty for two days and the nurses had been been monitoring it closely to note any activity.
For four days prior to the surgery I hadn’t eaten any solid food. The day following the surgery, all dietary restrictions were lifted and I consumed everything they brought on the food trays along with whatever Tammy didn’t consume from her meals.
My system kick-started about the time Tammy had texted that she was safely in her motel room and settling in for the night.
My now fully-functioning stoma was delivering a constant flow of product to the pouch. I hadn’t really noticed it was nearly full as I maneuvered myself from the bed and began to make my way to the bathroom with one hand guiding the IV pole and the other toting the drainage device.
I was about to reach my destination when the powerful adhesive failed.
I paused my trek to survey what had just happened and quickly determined I’d call for backup.
I continued on to the bathroom where an intercom to the nurses station would allow me to communicate the toxic mishap and request assistance.
I informed the voice on the other end of the connection that my pouch was leaking and I would need some assistance in rectifying the matter.
A few minutes later, as I stood there with a hand cupped beneath the flowing stoma, waiting for help to arrive, I wondered if I hadn’t underreported the matter.
I heard the room door open and quickly cautioned the first one through to turn on the lights and approach with caution.
The lights came on and they called for more help.
I looked out and could see the exact point where the breach occurred, and emanating from that point was a set of tracks to my location left by iv pole wheels and my treaded non-slip yellow hospital socks.
I don’t recall what code they used in summoning help for that incident, but I’m pretty sure at least one person from every department staffed at that hour responded.
The matter was quickly and efficiently handled and the kitchen even sent up a tray that arrived just as the last of the housekeeping team was finishing up.
“It’s just a blowout,” said the nurse who expertly directed the recovery operation. “It happens all the time.”
The next day, Tammy and I listened intently as a stoma nurse provided detailed information on stoma care and maintenance.
Next week: Lessons learned and more adjusting.
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