Surgery scheduled for Wednesday morning 9am. Kyle's parents made it into town the night before (Tuesday). We managed to get a bit of grocery shopping done Tuesday night and then get a few hours of sleep before we head to the hospital.
We are met inside the front door of the hospital by a spunky, little hospital volunteer who was assigned to help us. She proceeded to tell us what to do and bosses us around a lot. We like her. She tells us all about what is going to happen and even assigns Kyle a room so that I can use his room # to get food from the cafeteria. (She says it is free...right...what she meant was I didn't have to pay for it right then, but I would pay like a thousand dollars for it on the hospital bill.) Kyle and I sit and wait for a bit. We are nervous. We hold hands and joke around a little, but the air is heavy with worry.
At about 8:30am, they take Kyle back to pre-op and get him changed (well, he changed himself) and get his IV hooked up. I can't go with him, but the tyrant-of-a-volunteer (did I mention, we liked her?) tells me she will come and get me before they take him into surgery.
I didn't wait long and I get to go see Kyle. He is ready to go. The nurses joke that he is already being difficult...it took 3 attempts, 2 arms, and 2 nurses to get the IV in. We meet with the anesthesiologist and chat with him. He is very nice, smart, LDS, young, and has 4 kids...we love him. I remind him that Kyle is the father of 5 and that we need him, so he better not screw up. He assures us that all will be well. Kyle and I share a tearful good-bye (Kyle is such a baby) and I get kicked out just as Kyle's sedation starts kicking in. It is around 9am.
I retreat back to the waiting room and get comfortable. I have books to read, IPod to listen to, phone to talk on, Diet Pepsi to drink and plenty to think about. I figure time will fly by. I was wrong.
Around 11:30am, I am getting pretty anxious and figuring they are close to done. A nurse comes out to tell me that it is going well, but that it will probably be another hour. I am ok with this. We were told it could take anywhere from 2-10 hours because of all of the facial nerves.
12:30pm...no news.
1:30pm....still no news.
2:00pm...this is getting ridiculous. A nurse comes out to tell me that Dr. Jones is "closing" and it will be about 1/2 an hour before he comes out to talk to me. I am so relieved. I am too wound up to do anything, so I just sit there and stare at the door that reads: "SURGERY".
2:30pm...no Dr. Jones. I start getting worried.
3:00pm...no Dr. Jones. Now, I am in total panic mode. All sorts of scenarios start running through my mind. I calm myself by listening to the Mo-Tab Choir on the IPod. It works.
3:30pm...still no Dr. Jones, but the nurse finally comes out again to tell me that surgery has been over for half an hour, but that Kyle hasn't woken up from surgery yet. She tells me that Dr. Jones won't leave him until he wakes up. So, I get to wait some more.
4:00pm...7 hours after taking him into surgery (the longest 7 hours of my life), Dr. Jones comes out to talk to me. He tells me that Kyle is fine, just won't wake up. I tell him that is normal...he never wants to wake up at home either. He tells me that he was able to remove the entire tumor without cutting it and that he was able to remove a large "cuff" of normal tissue around the tumor. He also checked his lymph nodes, but they looked perfect and he didn't need to take any. This is all wonderful news, but when can I see my husband? "Soon", he says. I choke up when I try to thank Dr. Jones and he understands. How do you thank a man for doing what he just did? He operated for HOURS to save my husband's facial nerve and quite possibly, his life. I could have kissed him full on the mouth, but I resisted. Instead, I shake his hand with tears in my eyes and I am barely able to utter the words, "Thank you."
4:15pm...I am escorted back to see my husband. Dr. Jones had told me to be prepared because Kyle would have a large "indentation" in the side of his face. He did. It was large. He also had an incision that ran down the front of his ear and then up the back of his ear...it then hung a left and came half way down his neck. It took me a second to take it all in, but after that I just went about taking care of my husband. He was still totally out of it...TOTALLY. I have seen him after surgery before, but this was a whole new ballgame. I hold his hand and tell him he is ok. Several times he opens his eyes for a few seconds and breaks my heart with the fear I see in his eyes. I assure him that I won't leave and that he is fine. It was hard to see him like that and I will leave out all the gory details(But let's just say that Kyle is not a fan of having his bladder emptied without his consent. Enough said.) The anesthesiologist tells me he is so groggy because they weren't able to use the normal combination of medications to knock him out. They usually use a paralytic and sedative together, but because they were using nerve monitors to track Kyle's nerves, they couldn't use the paralytic. They just had to put him "way under".
5:00pm...Kyle is taken from post-op to his room. He has no idea this is taking place...still out of it. The nurses settle him in and make us both comfortable.
6:00pm...the lovely nursing assistant brings me a dinner tray. Bless her heart. I hadn't eaten a thing all day and I was starving, but didn't realize it until that moment. Kyle is still sleeping. I make 1 million phone calls.
7:00pm-2:00am...Kyle is still sleeping. I am watching him like a hawk, but he isn't doing much. He did wake up long enough to vomit. That was nice of him.
2:00am...Kyle wakes up. I mean, really wakes up. He opens his eyes and I can tell he is really in there and understanding what is going on. I tell him about the surgery and what has been happening. He is in a lot of pain and the nurse puts a shot of something in his IV...back to sleep he goes.
6:00am...We both slept for 4 hours. Awesome. I am feeling much better and Kyle is really awake and thirsty. He drinks some water, picks at his breakfast and gets another dose of pain medication.
8:00am...Dr. Jones comes to check on Kyle. He decides that Kyle's drain is still putting out too much for him to be able to go home. He says he will be back at noon and if the drain looks better, Kyle can go home. Kyle gets out of bed for the first time in almost 24 hours. He is in pain and still groggy, but feeling much better.
12:00pm...Dr. Jones returns. The drain looks great. Kyle looks great. He can go home. Yippee!!! Dr. Jones tell us that he will call when the final pathology report comes in.
It took Kyle several days to sleep off the anesthesia. He was in a lot of pain, but handled it well. It was hard for him to eat because he had so much pain in his jaw and also because when he eats and salivates his face swells up. Because the dr. removed 3/4 of his parotid gland (largest salivary gland) his body has to figure out how to reroute the saliva from what is left of the gland. We (Kyle's parents and I) force him to take it easy, eat, and rest. He doesn't like being told what to do...he is a pain in the butt.
*April 12, 2010
First thing in the morning, Dr. Jones calls. The biopsy was right. Kyle has Acinic Cell Carcinoma. Cancer. Cancer. Kyle shuts down and goes to bed. He doesn't want to talk about it. I go about getting the kids off to school. I hold it together until I talk to my sister, Kathy. I called her from the car after I dropped the boys at school. I told her the results and we talked for a minute. When we got off the phone, I sat in the car and cried. I had to pull myself together because Ansley was home sick from school and I didn't want her to see me losing it. I come in the house and have to give Kyle's parents the bad news. What crap! Kyle eventually gets out of bed and we slowly start talking about what is now...our life.
I have to do something...anything...so, I start making phone calls. I call the Huntsman Cancer Institute in SLC. They see Acinic Cell Carcinoma once or twice a year (stupid, rare cancer) and they want to see him in 2 weeks. We start making plans for what needs to happen. The process begins.
Life has to go on. We have to fight. This is war.
1 comment:
I feel so bad that you had to sit in that waiting room all by yourself for all that time. I would have come and sat with you had I had any idea you even having to deal with this. You are amazing and I think you are fabulous. You will get through this. Lots of prayers for you and your family.
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