Am I Really Watching This?

I thought I was really hot stuff this morning. First, I did all the end game work with Faina's TPN. That is, turning off the pump, doing the two saline flushes and the Heparin flush. Scientifically, this last step is amazing, but not worth reporting deeper than to say it is what keeps the PICC line from clogging. I even replaced Faina's ostomy bag for the first time. Oh, I was really firing on all eight cylinders.

We ( I say "We" because this really is a team effort, keep that in mind if anyone you know is dealing with cancer) had a 10:30 appointment with Dr. Schulick at Hopkins. I got the best parking space of all time, ninth from the entrance, without holding anyone up while waiting for the person to pull out and drive off.

This appointment is going to be a weekly thing for God knows when (I'm hoping for some insight into that this weekend). Well, the appointment started off pretty weird and got progressively more crazy by the second. About 15 ticks into the appointment the ostomy bags were gone, so I'm staring into about 1" below Faina's surface. I like looking at her soul through her dark brown eyes. This is different and the aroma is not Channel #5, but more like Gastro-Intestinal #2. When Dr. Cunningham, a brilliant surgical fellow, and Dr. Schulick, one of those surgeons who makes Hopkins Hopkins, start exploring her insides I am treated to front row seats into the surgical healing process. Differences of medical opinion are debated as necrotic fascia is removed, stitches come out, her lower incision is opened up so it will become the primary site of her still percolating fistula, and a discovery, the exit site of her fistula. At one point Dr. Kosravi tells me that typically by now any spouses present have fainted, Dr. Schulick has asked me for the second time if I'm ok with this. I've now seen Lidocaine injections, skin cut with a scissors, about half a cup of necrotic tissue being removed, and watched Faina lie on the table as she is operated on eyes, mostly, wide open, barely even wincing. I really don't know who is the more incredible person in the room, the three surgeons, the nurse or Faina, but I feel honored to be among enough courage and intellectual candlepower to lift a space shuttle into orbit.

Afterwards, all Faina could talk about was a Corona. She can't eat yet and is allowed about enough water to knock down a pill. We made a stop at a Federal Hill/Cross Street pub. Here's to a refuah shlaymah (a speedy-full recovery).