Thanks to everyone for your warm wishes for my procedure last Friday. I’m not sure whether you weren’t concentrating hard enough, or whether the fact that my new boots hadn’t arrived yet threw off my mojo, but the stent insertion was a no-go. Apparently, the cancer that is constricting the ureter has a death-grip on it, and no matter how my cute Dr. Kenneth Branagh tried, he couldn’t force the tube in. So when I woke up, not only was there no pain (and thus no need for interesting pharmaceuticals), but no success.
What’s next, you may ask. Well, just because I’m so very fond of pee, poop, private parts, the handling and the discussion thereof, my next step is a nephrostomy. Yes, the universe seems to think that the brief stint with the ileostomy wasn’t enough torture, so my next appendage will be a urostomy bag. Probably temporary, but who really knows. Probably done tomorrow, but I’m waiting for phone calls.
And maybe, if I’m really lucky, my next trip through a TSA checkpoint I’ll get to get a pat-down instead of a little extra radiation.
Today, though, I’m starting my new trial. I’ll be here at The Cancer Factory from 8 to 6, taking pills, peeing in cups, giving blood at regular intervals. Would you all mind focusing just a little more closely on your good wishes today? I could use a break.
The cookies, however? Are AWESOME. XOXOXOXO
