Mortality

         The last seven or so weeks have been emotionally challenging.  I was faced with various physical issues that tested my patience and state of mind.  I shared these with my family and with a very small number of my friends not wanting to unduly alarm them until I had more information to share.  I have learned much about myself during these weeks and, for those of you interested, would like to share this journey with you.   In order to not unduly alarm I will tell you that there is a happy ending.  

         In the latter part of July during my annual checkup with my urologist, he informed me that there were a couple of nodules on my prostrate.  He had been watching one and not been too concerned, but on this visit another one had appeared and he felt that a biopsy was in order.  In order to accomplish this it would require a procedure called a Transrectal Ultrasound-Guided Biopsy.  I won’t bore you with the details, but it did not sound very pleasant.  Because he was going to be out of town most of August I was not scheduled for the procedure until September 7.  It would be done outpatient in a hospital because general anesthesia would be used.  I left his office with trepidation and before I had driven 2 blocks I had already thought about making sure my will was in order, how I was going to tell the girls and thinking about listing the songs I wanted at my memorial service!  I know, I know…I’m an old theatre teacher with a very active imagination. 

         Seriously, it scared the crap out of me and I went into a blue funk.  I thought very carefully about whom I would burden with this information.  My immediate family, of course, and key friends were the first for who I reached out.  For those in town I waited until I could see them in person.  My ICE man and good buddy, Rick, was the first one.  I knew that I was going to have some depression issues and I needed his support.  I reached out to a few out of town friends and also to a couple of Diane’s cousins whom I count as my own.  My support group was in place.  Once the surgery was scheduled I told my good church buddies, Gary and Kathy McDaniel, so they could field any questions and to offer up some good old Methodist prayers. 

         I was told the surgery date just a couple of weeks before in occurred.  Rick had already agreed to take me to the hospital and get me home.  I had to be there at 5:30 am!  He didn’t blink and agreed.  Now, that’s true friendship.  I called my baby sis, Katy, to tell her that I was scheduled for the coming Wednesday.  They live in Lubbock.

“We will see you on Tuesday.”

“Katy, Rick said he would get me there.  You don’t need to come.” 

“Why not?”

I couldn’t answer that.  I thanked her, started crying and hung up.

They came.

         My anticipation about “going under the knife” (actually no knife was involved) made my nerves to become more exposed.  I worked hard to maintain some normalcy, but in retrospect I realize now that I was almost manic in my conversation, laughed too loud while trying very hard to be “myself.” 

         They arrived and we went to have my “last supper.”  I decided on tacos at Diane’s favorite taco place and reasoned that this would be a good choice.  I knew of course that my concerns over the procedure were exaggerated, but I am a good old Paducah boy and imagined the conversation would go like this.

         “Poor old Ronnie Parks.  He went under the knife and when they saw what was there they just sewed him up because there was nothing they could do!” 

         I know, I know…you can take a boy out of the country but…   You know the rest.

         The procedure was a snap.  Getting to the hospital was an adventure because it was flooding (yes, I said flooding) in El Paso that morning.  In addition there was a huge auto/semi wreck just at the Mesa exit and that’s where we had to turn to get to the hospital.  We made it, they knocked me out, they did it, I woke up and I went home.  No drama, no “nurse hand me a scalpel STAT” or anything!   The doctor told Katy and Terry that it went well, that there was a 70% chance it would be ok and that he would call me the following Tuesday. 

         The next week was the worst.  When one waits for biopsy results the minutes become hours.  Katy and Terry went home the next day to get ready for our annual get together in Ruidoso the next week.  Time was my enemy.  Simple tasks became excruciating and my ability to not dwell on the situation were futile.  I was unable to sleep well at night and woke up each morning with my joints and muscles screaming at me due to my sciatic condition.  My dreams were consuming and obsessive.  The nights were full of nightmares.  I was having a tough time and even experienced a few panic attacks.  I was alone and in the jungle of my mind.  When I checked my patient portal they indicated that the tests would not be ready until the next Thursday!  I scheduled myself to leave for Ruidoso on Wednesday after a visit to my eye doctor.  I had noticed that my right eye had become clouded and was fortunate to get a quick appointment.  This has further compounded my frustration.  I not only had cancer, but I was going blind! 

         Then it happed.  The air conditioner went out.  I lost it.  I sank to the depths and texted Katy and the girls and told them that I would probably not be able to go the next morning.  I was apoplectic and just wanted to wander off into the desert.  I had so carefully planned the sequence as to what was supposed to happen.  I had my adopted grandson, David, spend the night that night to get me to the eye doctor that morning.  I had lucked out on a 7:30 appointment.  They told me that I would be dilated in both eyes and could not drive for a while.  Here was my sequence.

1.    Go to appointment and brace my self for the results.  (I do have a blurred eye, but it can be fixed with an office laser treatment.  Something to do with the lens in my eye put there after cataract surgery years ago.

2.    Rick was going to pick me up since David had a class that morning at UTEP.

3.    I called my favorite plumbers and they were able to be there in an hour or so.  That would give my eyes a chance to clear up and maybe I could still make the trip.

4.    They came, got AC going again (long story there) and by 1:30  I was on the road to Ruidoso. 

Finally a plan had come together!

         Arrive in a flourish in beautiful Ruidoso.  I was praying that I would get the biopsy results while there so I wouldn’t be alone.

         Thursday arrived.  I checked portal that afternoon.  No malignancy detected.  I called doctor and his assistant said all was well and set up a follow up appointment in six months. 

         There it was.  Wish I could tell you that the slots rewarded us with great luck after we heard, but, alas. 

         Terry said, “That was your jackpot for the week.” 

         You know, he was right. 

I’m home now.  The AC was out again, but they came, did something and got it going.  Hooray!  It stopped again about 30 minutes after they left.  They are coming back first thing in the morning and maybe that will do it.  After my biopsy results that is not such a big deal any more. 

         What have I learned?  I learned that I am not as strong as I once was.  I had spent years experiencing the horrors of Diane’s illness and death.  I was the one who told Diane that they were going to amputate her feet piece by piece and finally her leg.  I was the one who willingly spent my life, cajoling, loving, caring for, providing the peritoneal dialysis every day, washing sheets sometimes several times a day, knowing that she faced amputation of her fingers because they were dying, keeping up a brave front while watching her disappear before my eyes.  For the most part I was the rock thanks largely in part to my wonderful daughters and sister and other friends in our lives. 

         Since she crossed over six years ago my emotional veneer has become very thin.  I cry easily, I obsess, I worry needlessly about my daughters and I am often unable to cope with day by day activities.  I travel and that is an immense help.  However, you have to come home.  A good friend of mine who lost her husband about the same time as Diane spoke of this a couple of years ago.  We agreed that people say to us that we are doing SO well! 

         She would reply, “They don’t see us at three o’clock in the morning.”

         This is quite a diatribe and I hope you made it through it.  I apologize and I assure you that it is not self serving.  Writing is a catharsis for me.  I pray that if you have finished this that it might offer you a truth.  For me the truth is mortality.  We have to work very hard to maintain our coping skills and understand as the years move forward we become vulnerable. 

         Let me rephrase that.  I have to work very hard to maintain my coping skills and understand as the years move forward I become vulnerable. 

         I still have my cape, but it’s a little tattered.