Friday, July 18, 2025

     Now is the waiting time.  Two appointments today at the urology clinic.  In the morning to remove the catheter and in the afternoon to check on the urine flow. On My Chart, I read a copy of the pathology report.  Looks promising. Of course they use words I don’t understand, but the words I do understand look OK.

     The last couple of days I have been living in my long flannel night gown pulling around a plastic bucket holding the catheter bag. I sit in my recliner, I nap. The medications keep me a bit fuzzy in my head. Today this should all change.

     I start reading the non fiction book THE THREE OF US by Joanna Coles and Peter Godwin. Diary entries for a year living in New York.  Not difficult to follow.

     My daughter entertains me with tales of her day. I am ready to move out of this slump and be more active.

 

Thursday, July 17, 2025

      I had forgotten the difficulties in recovering from surgery.  A catheter bag is tethered to me and lives in a plastic bucket next to me. Almost impossible to manage. I hesitate taking the heavy pain medication for most of the day. I use a walker to transport the bucket and anything else I need. My daughter reminds me of the pain medicine in the evening. I listen to her advice, swallow the little white pill, and sleep really well last night.

     I am taking four new temporary medicines and my mind is mush. I am not sure I can carry on a conversation. But today I will try.

     In the afternoon the sun comes out and my daughter waters the front yard and brings in the garbage bins.

    I am not reading anything. I listen to KPFA classical music station in the morning and listen to podcasts in the afternoon. I watch another episode of THE LAST DETECTIVE but couldn’t follow the plot. I play a lot of solitaire on my computer and seldom win. Life is getting better. Friday the catheter comes out.

 

Wednesday, July 16, 2025

     I survive the surgery procedure on Tuesday.   Of course, it is uncomfortable and sometimes just painful.  The staff is quiet and competent. I am now sitting in my bedroom recliner eating my breakfast and reading the paper, as I usually do. This time I am attached to a long catheter tube collecting the urine for the next couple of days.  Won’t see the pathology reports for a couple of days.

     The highlight of the experience is the prep nurse who figures out how to prevent severe pain during the blue light bladder wash. I have been struggling with this for years. My solution has been to just say no. I am not doing it. You can’t make me do it. But this time the nurse offers a pain medication plan that actually works, surprising both me and the surgeon. I cannot stop being delighted with her plan.

     My daughter stays with me and brings a lightness to the room.  She laughs at my stories.  She protects me from whatever danger lurks in the hospital. She asks questions and backs me up when I question the staff. She is exhausted now. The tall man picks up the four prescriptions for CVS and delivers them to me.

     In the evening at home, we watch two more episodes of BALLARD on Prime. I discuss with a friend the moral issues around shopping on Amazon. Amazon helps me to live independently.  It is amazing that this 6^th surgery only gets two paragraphs of writing.