Hospitalization is coming to an end
Ten days hospitalized. I'm back on solid foods as of this morning (although the order came down too late to save me from anything but jello for breakfast again) and I'm on track to be discharged tomorrow.
It's weird, but being here has been kind of like a vacation. Very slightly so. It didn't save me from thinking about my own health obsessively for two weeks, as I have for the most of the entire year before, but I was thinking about normal things, like healthy organ function, my nose and throat, and getting my bowels to work right. Yes, cancer is the reason I'm here, and yes, I'd much rather be fretting over the alternative reality where we played golf rules organ counting games and I always won, but I haven't thought much about that. But instead I've come up with increasingly elaborate and stupid ways of counting laps of the floor (always do them in sets of two, proper breaks after five sets, at least two proper breaks between meals, etc.), done some top tier people watching and enjoyed the view over University Avenue.
Being a cancer patient is a full time job, and this is the weirdest sort of break I can imagine from it while still being actively treated.
I have a copy of the surgical report. Tomorrow, I'll have an opportunity to speak to one of the surgeons who was in the room to clarify any details and ask any questions I might have. One of the big ones is what surgical options, if any, exist for me. I'll coach you all the exact way I've coached my family on the subject: there are likely none. Chemotherapy still exists, though, and I'm in high spirits. I'm excited to overshare about this report, but I need to speak to my surgeon, oncologist, and family before I do.
The next step is to temporarily move in with my parents, because I can't drive or carry groceries for the next month, until I've recovered enough from surgery to move back home. Hopefully, we start that 550km trip tomorrow.
