My journey from Patient to Person made significant gains on Monday, April 28th. It began with two events: my first meal in days, and moving to a new floor.
Breakfast that Monday would be the first morsel of food I had consumed since the prior Thursday. As it always is in this type of surgery, breakfast consists of Jello and juices. The intent is to gently start up the normal processes without undue stress on the colon. However after four days of nothing but fluids my appetite was slow to return. Between the Orange Juice and and a few tiny sips of black coffee, and slurps of Raspberry Jello, I managed to finish the small portion provided. Clear fluids would be my diet initially, and slowly progress to fuller fluids. My lunch had vegetable soup - my first hot meal in days, and I drank it down greedily. Having achieved the goals of eating without incident, I was now ready to be transfered from P.O.T.U. to another floor. My Journey was literally continuing.
Before I left the P.O.T.U. however I was divested of another of my tubes: the catheter. Not always comfortable, you're not even aware you're voiding. It would be removed early that Monday morning. The process was not painful but somewhat disconcerting, as I would be an educational experience for a nurse who had never removed a catheter before. From my past surgeries, I recall this process being performed late at night (The "wee" hours of the morning?). This time it would be mid-morning with me sitting on the side of my bed, gown up to my waist, looking anywhere but at the two nurses huddled in front of me. I tried not to listen to their conversation regarding the mechanics of what they were about to do, but there was a moment when "oh..." turned into "OH!...much better thank you...". My relief was genuine and now under my own control.
"De-catheterized" I still needed to prove that I could void without problems. Being a hospital they're not about to accept my statement, they want proof. I'm instructed to use the provided plastic container, which also has graduations on it to measure volume. On my first attempt I did an impressive 500ml. Success in a hospital is not measured by extraordinary results, it's measured by how you manage normal everyday things. So far I was walking without problems, I was eating without issue and now, oh joy, I was peeing. I was deemed fit enough to move out of P.O.T.U.
My new home for the next day and a half would be room 7105A, one floor below the the P.O.T.U. For some reason however my impressive feats of filling plastic containers needed to be repeated to the satisfaction of my new nurses. I obliged with a personal best that finally allowed me to relegate the "pee bottle" to the shelf for the remainder of my stay. I was making great progress, but was still tethered to my IV. If I could get through lunch without incident it would be removed. I had another goal, one I was confident I could achieve.
Lunch didn't have Jello, it was a "full fluids" meal: milk, cream of broccoli soup, and vanilla ice cream for dessert. Having successfully taken in fluids and food without incident, my IV was disconnected, I was no longer tethered! My freedom is on the horizon! However, now that I was eating my nurses were asking me that extremely critical question: Have I passed gas?
Colon Cancer surgery removes tissue from the (empty) colon and splices it back together. Your body has not sent anything down that passage for days. It has to learn how to do that again, and it has to be 100% successful to qualify for the 'get out of Hospital free' card. Passing gas is an absolute prerequisite in the continuing transition from Patient to Person. Eating starts the normal process, but it simply takes time and can't be forced. During my stay my doctor and nurses listen intently to my belly sounds with their ever-present stethoscope. I wouldn't disappoint such an intent audience. Eventually the few meals I consumed would produce the expected results. It is my personal belief that Cream of Broccoli soup can make a brick pass gas, such was its effect after lunch. But there remained a second prerequisite that would prove the success of my surgery. Achieving this second prerequisite, ( Number Two of my goals if you would prefer) would be the key to my being released from the Hospital. Before that would happen, I would keep walking to help the process along.
Exercise after surgery is great. It's one of the few activities I could do to keep boredom away. My visitors would come to see me, and we would walk the halls of the hospital. When they were gone I would walk laps around the floor. On average, I was able to complete one lap around my floor in 74 steps. Not bad for a guy in a bathrobe and slippers. I would do perhaps 15 minutes of walking, then rest and drink water. A lot of water. Then walk some more. Waking up in the morning after my shave and bath, before breakfast, I would do laps. Before visitors arrived, more laps. With visitors -laps. I had two dozen staples in me still, but was cautious to not overdo my efforts and cause that tingling effect of metal on sensitive skin. It was only Monday, and I desperately wanted to go home. My wish would be granted the next day.
Early Tuesday morning my surgeon came to see me again. Pleased with my progress so far he asked if I wanted to go home, and seemed satisfied with my immediate YES to his question. My nurse however was a bit more cautious, as I had not fulfilled the second requirement of my obligatory prerequisites. But I would pass that test soon: waiting in the wings was breakfast, and this time it was Oatmeal.
Oatmeal is a high fibre breakfast cereal. Lots of fluids, lots of exercise, and the effects of fibre were enough to earn my release. I was happy in a way that I think only patients who have undergone this process might understand. In a few hours I would be in my street clothes packed up and ready to leave. As my discharge paperwork progressed my nurse turned to me an said with some amusement: "Will you require a wheel chair to bring you out of the Hospital?" Another nurse chimed in "He'll probably just WALK down the stairs!". They were quite aware of how mobile I had become, and knew what my answer would be before they asked. By noon I would be outside, waiting for my ride.
The act of leaving my residence of the past five days imperceptibly freed me from the last vestiges of being a Patient. I was now a Person. Once more I was Terry McAlinden. Rain that had been routinely falling throughout the morning had ceased. The sun was shining and I breathed in that unseasonably chilly air as I stepped out of the Hospital, and into the car that would take me home.
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