Real Men Wear Hospital Gowns

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Since so many people love and have been concerned for Dad Lyman this week, I thought I'd write my point of view about Dad's : surgery this week. (The colon was placed there for a purpose, lest you think I made a mistake.) I also believe that his and Mom's posterity needs to know how brave and wonderful their grandparents are, so this is for their great-great-great grands, too!

The week began with us nervously anticipating Dad Lyman's big surgery to remove the cancerous tumor from his colon. After months of preparation, radiation and chemo, the big "removal-of-the-tumor" surgery was to be Wednesday, Jan.6th at the University of Utah Hospital. Dad went to his pre-op appointment on Tuesday, which is when we learned that the surgery was scheduled for 8:30 a.m. on Wednesday morning. Nothing like the crack of dawn to kick cancer in the butt, right? Anyway, because James really wanted to be there when Dad checked in at 7:00 a.m., we called James (my brother, I know it gets confusing with all of the James names) and Tracee and crashed on their living room floor Tuesday night so we wouldn't have to drive so far on Wednesday morning. (Thanks again, James and Tracee!)

Wednesday morning, James got up at 6:00 and hurried to pick up Mom, Dad, and Annie and head to the hospital while I stayed behind to get Bethany going. (She's not what you'd call "gungho" about waking up at 6:00 a.m.--and neither am I.) And when James (brother) took me into SLC to meet up with James (hubby)around 9:30, I learned that after they checked Dad in at 7:00, the surgeon said he couldn't do the surgery at 8:30 and the whole thing was re-scheduled for noon. GOOD GRIEF!!!! So we all waited around in Dad's pre-op room for surgery time. Here we are, right after Dad received his dose of the anti-anxiety "Rhett Butler" drug. (It's the "Rhett Butler" drug because after getting it, you don't give a ----!!!)



Personally, I think Dad Lyman is MUCH more handsome than Clark Gable. (Especially in a hospital gown, woo-woo!) But I digress. We were so proud of Mom and Dad, they were both so strong and kept smiling and cracking jokes, all while facing a really scary ordeal.

Anyway, finally around 1:00 p.m. (What happened to noon? If you ask me, the hospital needs new clocks, or at least a good lesson on how to read them.)we gave hugs and kisses and they wheeled Dad away. Then we all went to the waiting room. Mom and Annie stayed there while James and I ran to James and Tracee's to get Bethany, who had been playing there all morning and was, as naptime approached, getting a little grumpy. On our way back to the hospital, Bethany slept in the car while James and I stopped at a hamburger joint for a quick,very nutritious meal in the car (onion rings are a vegetable, after all).

When we got back to the hospital, we joined Mom, Annie, and good friend Steve Bronson in the waiting room, where we proceeded to wait, and wait, and wait, and wait. To make a long story short (too late?) it was a grueling wait. If you ask me, they ought to hand out some of the "Rhett Butler" drug to anxious family members in the waiting room! Or wait, here's an idea--just knock us ALL out when they knock out the patient. It seems the humane thing to do. Oh, and there will be no pictures of us at this point, because as much as I love posterity, there's really no need for them to see us all looking like death warmed over! If they're going to remember me at all, I want them to remember me at my best. That may sound shallow, and maybe it is, but really, I don't want them remembering us as those grim-looking pioneers in old photographs, where their faces look like they just ate something really sour, they're mad about it and they're on their way to butcher a calf. And THAT, my friends, is exactly what we looked like after all day in a waiting room. But I digress again.

At 7:00 p.m., I decided to take Bethany back to James and Tracee's so she could have a bath, play with her cousins and get her wiggles out. The waiting room had lost its appeal for her, and there are only so many times you can ride the escalators up and down without people starting to look at you askance. So Bethie and I left at that point for James and Tracee's, where we engaged in the aforementioned bath, playing and wiggling. James, after driving us over, went back to the hospital and continued to wait, and wait, and wait, and wait.

Finally, after all those hours, the surgery was done. The surgeon said that things went well with taking out the cancerous tumor. We're still awaiting the results of some additional tests, so we don't know everything yet, but overall Dad is on the road to healing. (For the nitty-gritty details, you'll need to talk to Mom or Dad.) James, Bethany and I drove home that night at midnight with me at the wheel, since James was so exhausted. (It tells you something about James's state of tiredness if he lets me drive at night, since my night vision is terrible. Either he didn't trust himself to drive, or me crashing the car didn't seem so bad at that point, or both.)

Yesterday, we drove down again to visit Dad. Stan, Kristie and the girls were also there, and Bethany had a blast ordering them about. (Bethany, when around her older cousins, seems to think they're there to serve her, the princess. She calls them her "Big Friends," and really does issue orders. "Friends, come here! Friends, carry me! Friends, give me candy! Friends, let's skip!") While we're on the subject, this is how I found Bethany in the waiting room after visiting Dad . . .



. . .having a wonderful time with her "friends," eating lots of candy and not missing us one bit. (Thanks for looking out for her, girls!) Anyway, it was good to see Dad yesterday and to see how well he's doing. We even got to walk a couple of laps around the recovery floor with him and his trusty IV pole. He was doing much better, and it was good for us--and especially for James, who had last seen him right after surgery when he wasn't exactly at his best--to see how far he'd come. As for how long he'll be "in hospital," as the British say, it all depends on how his plumbing and--er--ventilation systems work. He hasn't had any food since Tuesday, but they won't start feeding him again until (How do I put this delicately?) the vapors start moving through the right exits. Then they'll start him on broth,then move him up to Jell-o, then move him up to ice cream, etc. Once he starts doing well on normal food, he'll probably be released. We're hoping by Wednesday, but we'll see.

Anyway, all of the above was written from my point of view, and I didn't have a lot of involvement, really. Mom and Annie have been the day-in/day-out troopers. (I want to be like them when I grow up!) But I do feel like I can speak for the family when I say that we appreciate everyone's love and prayers. So many people love Dad, and we can really feel everyone's support! Please continue to pray for his recovery! (And for Mom, too. You know, I think it's almost harder being the supportive and anxious spouse. At least the patient gets to take drugs.)