I was up early. Before I roused the hub, I drove to our local gas/convenience store to fill up the car and get a few newspapers. I knew I would be sitting for a time, while Mike had his second ERCP. The doctor would remove the old stent and place a nice, new, shiny one.
We know that we will do this in 2 to 3 month intervals.
As I pulled into the bay, this is what began on the Christian radio station:
I know it seems
Like this could be
The darkest day you've known
But believe you me
The God of strength
Will never let you go
He will overcome, I know
And the arms that hold the universe
Are holding you tonight
You can rest inside
It's gonna be alright
And the voice that calmed the raging sea
Is calling you His child
So be still and know He's in control
He will never let you go
Lyrics/music by 33 Miles
As a believer, I've learned to erase "coincidence" from my vocabulary.
We drove to Indianapolis; I avoided that U-Turn mistake from February. I dropped Mike at the door and parked the car.
University Hospital is HUGE. Many elevators, many hallways, many departments. All I remembered was that we were on the bottom floor. I think I took a less-convenient elevator but eventually found the right room.
The ERCP takes about 45 minutes. Mike was back in his room within a hour after they wheeled him out. According to Dr. Vogel, a jovial Canadian, Mike "did well." They inserted a "slightly bigger stent" which hopefully will stay clear longer.
The doctor was headed to Louisville with his daughter, for a soccer tournament. I asked if he'd like my newspapers. He smiled and took them, with thanks.
Then, we drove home.
Mike remembers none of this, including the after-procedure chat with the doctor. I"m not sure what they 'give' him (technically, it's not general anesthesia) but he has to abide a tube down the throat, to the stomach and beyond, to the bile duct. They want him compliant. He is.
When we got home, I tucked him in and he continued to be 'compliant' for the rest of the evening. He ate some jello and soup, wanted more but I stood my ground until about midnight when he got a grilled cheese sandwich. It was all buttery and brown, and melty, with grape jelly, just the way he loves it.
Ivy also loves grape jelly and she got some on her whiskers.
By the AM, he ate a real breakfast and then went back to bed. We turned on The Food Network and watched 6 episodes of Man vs. Food. As it concluded, the hub said, "I want some barbecue." So we were off to our local 'real' pit BBQ place.
We knew that Monday was his next chemo. For the remainder of the weekend, we walked, and played, and talked. Saturday's cold and driving rain made way for a sunny Sunday.
okay, I've gotta know, where is your "real" BBQ place here in Kokomo, I've been looking for one ever since I got here.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the update, Lynne. I wonder if it's Ativan that Mike takes before his treatment. It knocks me on my keister. I never heard of grilled cheese with grape jelly. Sounds positively decadent, though. I continue to pray for you both.
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