dcnovice
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February 18, 2014
Hostile Abdomen
Dear Ones ---
My Philadelphia story didn’t end the way I wanted.
This afternoon, my parents, a dear friend (my chauffeur du jour), and I met with the surgeon who evicted the dread MiMA back in October. As you’ve heard—and heard and heard—an E. coli infection set in, creating what surgeons call a “hostile abdomen.” The bacterial buggers destroyed a fair amount of colon tissue, greatly upping the difficulty of returning my plumbing to normal. Meantime, a “low-grade” infection lingers and will likely remain until we take “definitive action.” The docs at Georgetown, you may recall, used that same phrase.
So what constitutes definitive action? Well, the options bring to mind an episode of Let’s Make a Deal. The known option is, yes, a permanent colostomy—the very outcome I’ve spent a year trying to avoid. Or I could take what’s behind Door Number One. That would be the far-from-certain outcome of having the surgeon go back in and take his best shot at reconnecting my colon to the anus. That might work; it might not. Even if it works, urgency would likely become a life-long issue. If I understood correctly, that’s because I’m down about a foot and a half (out of seven) feet of colon. Some of that went when MiMA did; some was damaged beyond repair by the infection.
Trying again, the doc explained, would be a “marathon.” I’d probably be looking at another year of recovery, especially in the all-too-likely event of infection. His counsel—first tacit, then explicit—was to “bite the bullet” and get the colostomy. Given that his whole career, drawing on the pioneering work of his surgeon father, has been devoted to helping folks avoid ostomies, I know his recommending one means it truly is what he considers the best option.
Going the colostomy route raises the question of whether to have it done in Pennsylvania or D.C. I see pros and cons to both locations. There’s a lot to be said for sticking with the guy who knows my innards better than anyone else. But I know from experience that being in the hospital is worlds easier in your own city. Not a decision I need to make tonight, mercifully.
My reaction to all this has been interesting. I might have thought such news would shatter me—and that may yet come—but it actually brought an odd peace. An answer, even one I dislike, slices through the fog of uncertainty that has shrouded me for so long now. And I’d had a pretty strong sense before today of what answer I was going to get, so it wasn’t a shock.
One of my first thoughts, left unvoiced, after Dr. Marks left the room was, “Well, shit. Washington Hospital Center could have done this last February!” And that’s true. But that would have left me with decades of doubt about whether I’d given up too easily and failed to turn over the right rock. Now I know, to borrow from St. Paul, that “I have fought the good fight” (2 Tim. 4:7). I explored the options and made what seemed the best decision at the time.
My next step is to consult my oncologist for his counsel on what to do and where. Further bulletins as events warrant.
Meantime, I have two requests of you all. First, many of you will have medical questions. Please don’t share them with me. I’ve told you what I know, and repeatedly saying “I don’t know” is wearing at best. Second, you may know folks who’ve had an ostomy and gone on to “live a full life.” That’s great, but I’m not ready to hear about them now. Thanks for understanding and honoring these quirks of mine.
Thanks even more for the love you’ve given me and my hostile abdomen all through the good fight!
Cheers,
DC
_____________________________
No matter how cynical you become,
it's never enough to keep up.
JANE WAGNER, THE SEARCH FOR SIGNS OF
INTELLIGENT LIFE IN THE UNIVERSE
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