R.I.P. Lefty

So it was 2 years ago today that Robbie had his surgery. I'm not one to dwell on things, but this day was a pretty significant day in our lives. It was 3 months to the day before our wedding, and also the day when the lump was all but confirmed to be cancer.

It is funny how the memory works. What makes the mind record the littlest details while completely dismissing large facts? I can't speak for Robbie or anyone else who was there that day, but this is what I remember about the day "Lefty" was taken.

Robbie and I drove separate, as we had to make a special delivery before checking into the hospital. I remember the little yellow parking garage ticket and the chocolate milk in my hand. As we arrived at the hospital that morning there was an air of uncertainty, but not all negative. There was still a chance that the lump was not cancer, in fact, a pretty good chance. We wouldn't know officially until the biopsy results returned.

Eventually everyone arrived in the pre-op waiting room. I remember that the walls were a dark grey/blue, and that our family and friends had completely taken over the recessed nook of chairs. I packed a bag with an assortment of activities to keep me busy, but I never touched a one of them. Except the stress balloon I made with my students. If Robbie was nervous, you couldn't tell. He was (and had always been during the entire journey) the calmest one. I truly believe that was God's peace in him as a result from everyone's prayers.

Waiting to be called into surgery, we all sat around and rode a roller coaster of conversation. A pure mixture of joy and anxiety. Anything to keep the conversation going so that time wouldn't stand still. We prayed over Robbie and for the surgery. And finally it was time for Robbie to go to pre-op.

When the nurse stood there asking Robbie to take only one person with him, I knew that it would be me. But I felt really bad that it wasn't going to be his mom. I could feel her "mother's eyes" from across the room as we walked into the back. I knew it was then--not at the wedding--when I took that role. Of course I know that she loves me and knew it was her time to step back. But I can also imagine how it probably felt for her as a mother not to be able to go with her son.

When Robbie and I arrived in the pre-op area, we were probably a little too light-hearted about it all. As I look back, the way we were joking around with the staff and with each other, I think it was a mix of naivety and defense mechanisms. We really had no clue what was to come, but we were also pretty nervous about the reality of it. With that said, I wouldn't change it. Humor is one of the best ways to deal with life, and I will continue to embrace it.

We waited for what seemed like an eternity in the little pre-op room. Robbie grabbed various items and played with them like toys making robots and alien creatures out of them. It really was nice to laugh! When they gave him a hair net to put on, Robbie asked if it was really necessary. (as his hair is always pretty close to bald)

They finally escorted us to another pre-op area where the actual surgeons met to talk with us about the procedure. Robbie was glad to have been rolled in the bed while I had to walk. The walls were very green. And it was very quiet. Soon there was a surgeon, an anethesiologist, and about 3 residents around Robbie's bed. The surgeon was very pretty, like, she should have been a tv doctor pretty. A huge diamond ring was on her finger. I think she said that her fiance was a doctor too.

The anethesiologist was a funny looking guy, but was very kind. He had like 8 old-fashioned pagers clipped to his pants, and a really colorful head cap on. It was like he knew he was the "angel of relief" bringing gifts of anesthesia to all. He was cool.

All the residents studied us over like we were bugs. I think they were more scared than we were. It was like it was the first time they connected dull homework to humanity.

The surgeon sat on Robbie's bed and the first words out of her mouth were, "You are having a radical orchiectomy today, and I am here to explain it all and answer any questions you may have." When she said 'radical orchiectomy' both Robbie's and my eyes got huge, we looked at each other, then the surgeon, and we asked with half a smile on our faces, "What makes it radical?"

Almost taken aback from such an enthusiastic response, she explained that 'radical' means to remove everything, and 'orchiectomy' means removing a testicle. She explained that they would be going in through the abdomen to remove the entire casing of the testicle. Robbie asked if they could put it in a jar for him to keep after they were done with it. (you know, as a momento) Again came the awkward stares.

It was after that conversation that one of the nurses came to escort me back to the waiting room. I didn't want to go just yet, but as I mentioned before, Robbie was completely relaxed. If anything, he was comforting me through it all. As the nurse and I got closer to the waiting room, my heart began beating faster and faster. I knew that everyone was waiting anxiously to see me, and to hear that the process had begun.

In a way, I didn't want to go back to the waiting room. I knew that once somebody saw me it would all become too real. I would be forced to internalize it, without Robbie. When I walked up to the group I said, "He's in" and fought back the tears. I don't remember if I stuck around to describe the pre-op procedures right then or not. The next thing I remember doing is telling my dad that I had to go take a walk.

I walked outside feeling like my legs were made out of concrete. I looked around knowing that hundred of other people were going through their own story, but it didn't make it any easier to deal with what was happening to me. Us.

There is a little park area next to the hospital with a couple tennis courts and trails to walk. Lots of doctors were out there getting some exercise between shifts. I must have walked 2 miles around that park before I settled on a grassy knoll overlooking the highway. The sun was setting, giving the sky an orange hue. The hum of the rush hour traffic sounded like the ocean. And I just talked to God. Begged God is really more like it. All I said, over and over again was, "Please let it not be cancer."

When I returned I made a few phone calls to some friends letting them know that Robbie was in surgery and that any updates would come thereafter. I think it was very beneficial for me to just keep talking to someone. Anyone who would listen. I don't remember how much time the actual surgery took. I think we all went down to the cafeteria to eat dinner. After that day, hospital cafeterias were a welcome change of scenery.

After the surgery was done, the surgeon (not the one from pre-op) gathered us in a small room attached to the waiting room. I'm sure the conversation was alot more detailed than I remember, but this is what I retained: the surgery went very well, and that the tumor was indicative of cancer. I remember that the surgeon was very kind, and confident. Not abrasive or uncaring. He made us feel like Robbie was the only patient they had that day. He even gave detailed information as to what the next steps were, even though I don't recall it. I'm pretty sure that we had another 15 minutes of questions for him, but I don't remember those either.

Robbie's surgery was supposed to be an outpatient affair. But he didn't do so well coming out of the anesthetic. It made him very sick, and the paper bucket they gave him to throw-up in reminded me of what they use to put fried chicken orders in. The post-op area was very clean and white, and also very empty. Robbie was actually preventing the nurse from going home, as this post-op area was only open so late. It took a while but they eventually admitted him for an overnight stay.

His mom and I decided that we would stay with him overnight. Looking back, I don't even know if he realized we were right there next to him all night. Again, I think this was the benefit for her and I more than it was for Robbie. He shared a room with an old man who was constantly calling nurses to take him to the bedside commode. He also had the tv blaring all night long, and once the sun came up he turned it off.

Patty and I attempted to sleep in the windowsill of the room. There wasn't a chair to sit on. We kinda folded ourselves opposite of each other in the sill, and were able to nod off a couple times. We talked about any and everything, but I don't remember the conversation. Once or twice we went down to the cafeteria to get some food to nibble on and a fresh beverage. It was definitely an unusual way to bond with my soon-to-be mother in law, but it was an experience that made us closer and I will treasure.

I watched the sunrise from that windowsill while Robbie began to wake up from the drugs. Once he was up, he did amazingly well. He could have walked himself to his CT scan, but they wouldn't let him. In fact after the scan, he was too impatient to wait for the hospital staff to wheel him back to his room, he did walk back on his own.

The next few months would be the chemo. And that will wait for another day. Thank you for letting me share my memories of 2-26-07. Lefty's last day.

To be honest I'm kinda tired of typing, and there is so much more I would like to write about that day. But the important thing is that it is 2 years later, and Robbie is fantastic. Even more important is how God worked through this to grow us.

Blog-a-rific

So how horrible is it to get bummed out when other people haven't updated their blogs? I mean, it's not like we have that problem. :)

On a side note, I was reading an article in Newsweek magazine about the blogosphere (while in the doc's waiting room). And the columnist was expressing his frustrations with eeeeeeveryone writing a blog these days, mostly in relation to politics.

It is quite facsinating that anyone can have a blog nowadays. Kinda scary actually. Who am I to complain, they let us sign up for one.

How crazy is it that even just 4 to 5 years ago, a blog was pretty much unheard of in the journalism world, let alone the world of Joe 6-pack?

Not poor enough to be poor, not rich enough to be rich.

Let's see, who was making promises about helping out the middle class? Just wondering so we could give them a call.

We've already begun filing for our taxes this year, and it was more of a headache than last year. This is because most (if not all) online tax filers have changed their requirements for who gets to file for free. We admit, we didn't do our homework right away. We just logged back on to the site we used last year (because we could file free last year with them) and got ALL the way done with our taxes when the screen asked if we would like to pay for their service by credit card or deducting from our return. It was getting late, so we decided to sleep on the decision. $14.95 is not a terrible price for making the process of doing taxes so easy, but on the other hand that is money we could definitely use.

So the next morning we just decided to bite the bullet and pay for the service. We logged back on to the site and continued to file our taxes. Because we are so strapped for money, we decided to pay for the service by deducting it from our return and not use our debit/credit card. Much to our dismay, this convenience is another $30! So all in all, this service would be costing us $45! Um, no thanks!

We did some online research about online tax services. We recommend going to both the IRS site (www.irs.gov) because it tells you what each website's requirements are for free filing, and this site (http://blog.filife.com/free-file-which-of-its-free-tax-filing-sites-is-best) because it has a really nice ranking chart of many tax filing sites. *editors note: blogger was being funny about inserting these sites so I just typed them out for you

In the end, we did have to completely re-file our federal taxes. But it was worth it because it was totally free, and ended up getting a bigger return! This sounds like a cheesy paid advertisement, but H+R Block saved the day. Now for the state taxes. Unfortunately we haven't found any site in which we qualify to file for free online. But our state does have a nice online worksheet that calculates everything for you, and you just print it.

Here's the deal Mr. Obama: we are required to do taxes and we want to be "green" about it. Why not offer free tax filing services for all? Or at least a voucher for basic services?