Saturday and I walked, pushing myself harder now. I started some seeping on the wound again but I gained in my ability to walk with a more normal stride. I am having some pain and burning when I urinate and have passed some clots that nearly buckled my knees. I am working on increasing my clear water intake to help this. It is similar to previous post catheter difficulties.
Sunday and cuddle time first thing. I am still healing and a lot of movement makes me sore below the navel in a horizontal line through the incision. I remain sensitive to gastronomic pressure, which causes pain as that runs the circumference of my middle. It is of course manageable and a reminder I need to mind my p’s and q’s as the healing process progresses.
Inger now visits daily with glowing reports on my condition. Her masterful touch I suspect is the difference as the lymph finds those alternative paths to circulate through. She missed yesterday and this morning I had the keg leg so I put on the compression garments for the first time since the surgery without issue. Going to church with Van this morning and we shall see how I do. It certainly makes comfort station breaks more of a job to get down to business and covered up again but a small price to pay I think. What is most discouraging is the swelling shows that no miracle is going on, the nodes are not getting better and neither am I. Regardless, I continue without symptoms of the cancer itself and look forward to the coming short week and holiday. I joined my Wife at her Church today and enjoyed a feast afterwards. I thanked the church family for their prayers and support as it has meant a great deal to us and been a real boon to our situation and spirits. Vanessa looked gorgeous and I wore workout pants and tennees with a fashionable sweater if I do say so myself. We had to explain to a couple of folks that there was no treatment regimen for me now. ‘Look Lady, would you quit, you don’t get it, you’re out of the loop. Did they have to cut me? Holy cow. Oh alright I will give you the short version instead of my typical brush off. Helloooo, you did not listen? No chemo, no radiation, just regular check ups. I see you have that deer in the headlights look.’ Finally there is nothing left to say.
My mode within conventional health care is defensive to make the time I have left as good as possible. This does not preclude me from cutting a chicken’s head off and sprinkling blood in a circle around my bed in hopes of deriving some benefit from it. It is hard to tell people I am incurable and my time measured, yet when pressed I certainly get the point across I think.
The Colts lost to New England and life goes on. Once again a cold wind blows from the south and west so it looks like the temps are going to tank soon. I did not get the maintenance done on the house this year and pray for a mild winter so I will have minimal damage to deal with in the spring. The home seems right tonight, I in my office and Van in hers. She’s tutoring and I am writing this among other things. I have my pile to start in on tomorrow morning as I do not expect to be in the driving long distances and walking around mode.
I have taken a pain pill, a 5 mg of oxycodone or the like and now find myself droopy eyed and ready to lay this quill down for a while.
Cancerpage.com sums up my situation as follows 'The last two decades have brought significant improvements in the treatment of metastatic bladder cancer with survival time nearly doubling to 12 months and the three-year survival rate improving from less than 5% to 15 to 20%.' Let's drink to the 20%.
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