While You Were
Sleeping By Barbara Carter
You know
how some things are just too much to handle alone? Well, Wayne's surgery
was one of those things. Hearing the words from Wayne after Dr. Kalish's
phone call on that Monday around noon, I just felt numb. I was frightened.
I didn't cry, even though it might have helped, but I didn't want to be alone
for fear I might start crying. I left to go back to the office, but turned
in at the church instead. Dot Bell and I have shared lots of joys and way
too many sorrows through our years of friendship, so I guess it was only
natural to go to her first. I just felt a need for support -- someone to
tell me everything would be all right. She did and so did Bro. Ken Hester.
They let me talk out my feelings, and it helped.
Little moments of anxiety would creep into my days as we waited for the surgery
date¾ February 17, 2004. CANCER is such a
threatening word. Somehow, we were able to get through that week and especially
that day before the surgery. I am not an early riser, but I knew I had to
get up in time to have Wayne at the hospital by 5:30 a.m. That turned out
to not be a problem, since Wayne was up most of the night quite sick from
the pre-op preparation. We were up to stay at 2:30 a.m.
Sarah Sue had told me she would come on over to the hospital as soon as she
got up and going, but that she couldn't make it at 5:30 a.m.
When the phone rang at 4:45 a.m., I was not surprised to hear her say, "I
guess I'll just follow you over to the hospital."
I was not surprised, and I was more than a little relieved to have someone
to share the anxious moments until time for the surgery.
Wayne was so sick and weak when we got to the hospital that the Ambassador
who was to deliver us to the surgical unit had to get a wheelchair for him,
but that was by far the best choice. I don't think he could have walked those
long hallways as weak as he was that morning.
Being the first patient on the surgery chart for the morning has its pluses.
We didn't have time to think too much about what was about to happen. Very
soon they asked Sarah and me to get a cup of coffee and wait in the family
waiting room. They would come get us when they were finished prepping Wayne
for surgery.
In a few minutes Lee Gordon walked in and gave us hugs. Lee, one of Wayne's
fishing buddies, does the cooking for the RRN cookout each summer. It sure
does help to have a strong man around when life is so uncertain. About the
time Lee got there a nurse came down the hall and said Wayne wanted us to
come tell him bye before they took him off to surgery holding. We walked
into the room and the nurse told us we could have prayer if we wanted to
before they left. Lee prayed for us, and the doctors before Wayne was wheeled
out.
As we started back up the hall, I saw Parish Hartley, Rayanne's pastor from
Belmont.
He came walking up to me and said, "Has he already gone into surgery?"
I said, "There he goes now," as they were rolling Wayne down the parallel
hallway.
Bro. Parish went over and spoke to Wayne briefly and then we all went back
to the waiting room.
Rayanne had called a few minutes earlier and said she would be there in about
five minutes, so we sat down to wait in the family waiting room for her.
The nurse had told us which room we were assigned to and that she would be
calling me there in about thirty minutes. Shortly afterwards, Rayanne arrived
and spoke to everyone and then Floyd McCullough came around the corner. We
all paraded, under Lee's direction, to the third floor room to which we had
been assigned.
When we walked into the room it just kept on going. I have never seen a hospital
room that big. We later learned it was the Presidential Suite, having once
been reserved for possible emergency use for President George Bush, when
he spoke at Mississippi State several years ago. We needed that much space
though, because so many friends came to help see us through this ordeal.
Sarah Sue, Rayanne, Lee, Parish, Floyd, and I sat around in the room talking.
The phone rang and I think we all jumped. I answered and the nurse said,
"We are starting the surgery now, I'll call you back in about one hour."
Thanks to the family and friends sitting there with me I was able to carry
on conversations and pass the time easily enough for that hour.
The phone rang again and I said, "Hello."
"Mrs. Carter, this is Kim in surgery. Dr. Kalish is working on Mr. Carter.
He is doing fine. I'll call you back in about an hour."
Lee had to leave to take care of some other visits, but he said he would
call before he left town to see how things were going. Bro. Parish had another
church member he needed to check on, so he left, but said he would be back
in a little while. Floyd had someone else he needed to see, so he left for
a while too.
Jimmy Munn, our friend and Tom's Distributor, came in with a box of goodies.
He sat down, and we updated him on how things were progressing as best we
knew. Jimmy stayed for a while and then Floyd came back in with a very pretty
potted plant. He relayed that he had been confused about where his friend
was in the hospital and he had gone into the wrong room. The patient,
fortunately, was asleep and as soon as Floyd saw her he knew he was in the
wrong room, so he retreated. The information booth was then open and able
to provide him the correct room number, which was on another floor.
Bro. Parish came back and reported he had been unsuccessful in finding his
church member at the hospital. After making a call to someone in the know
he discovered that that patient was in Memphis and was scheduled for surgery
in the afternoon. He stayed until noon with us and then left to make a trip
to Memphis and visit with that family.
Our phone rang a third time, and I jumped to answer it.
"Hello. Mrs. Carter, this is Kim in surgery. "We are still working on Mr.
Carter, I'll call you back in about an hour."
"Is anything wrong?" I asked.
"Dr. Kalish is still operating on him, we'll call you back."
My mind was racing, "Why is this taking so long? They told me about an hour
and a half to two hours. It's been three hours already and they said they
will call back in another hour."
Thank goodness for family and friends. Comments were made to calm my fears.
I uttered a prayer that I would not jump to conclusions and stay calm. After
all, my daughter was there with us; I had to stay calm for her.
After about forty-five minutes the phone rang again.
I answered it with my usual "Hello."
"Mrs. Carter, this is Dr. Kalish. "WOW! Finally, we are through. Wayne's
doing okay. They will take him to recovery, and he will be there for about
an hour. We had a little problem with his blood pressure when they first
put him to sleep. He was terribly dehydrated, and his blood pressure dropped
way down. They had to work with him for quite a while to re-hydrate him before
I could start the surgery. I had quite a time getting to the prostate, too,
but it is all out and it looks good. Wayne lost quite a bit of blood. I'm
hoping we won't have to do a transfusion. If he can remake the blood on his
own it will be much better for him. We'll be keeping a close check on his
blood pressure and blood count. I'll be up to talk with you and Wayne, after
he is a little more awake."
That was when Floyd and Bro. Parish left, and I took the opportunity to go
move my car and get the bags out. When I returned to the room, Mickey Gentry
was there. He had just left the dentist office and his mouth was quite numb,
and he was having difficulty talking. Mickey stayed until it was about time
for them to bring Wayne back to the room.
Seven hours after they wheeled Wayne out of the surgery unit in to surgery
holding they finally brought him to his room. He was semi conscious, but
he said he was not nauseous for the first time since 1:30 p.m. the day before.
Wayne, while you were sleeping, I visited with family and friends. I appreciate
their efforts to stay and help make the wait bearable. I'm sorry you missed
all the good fellowship, but I sure am glad that you made it through that
surgery and the cancer is now gone.
Wayne and I want to say thank you to all our friends who prayed for us, visited,
phoned, wrote a note of encouragement, or sent food to the Carter family
during this time. We love you all.
Pre-Surgery
Prostate Cancer...Continued
The day prior to my surgery was a Monday. According to the instructions given
to me during Pre-Admission Testing, I was to eat no solid food. Liquid
nourishment in the way of broth, Jell-O, fruit juice, coffee, popsicles,
and water were allowed, though certain restrictions included no pulp in the
juice and no red juices, Jell-O or popsicles.
I made it fine throughout the morning, but I could not drink the chicken
broth Barbara served me for lunch, and the lemon Jell-O left a terrible
aftertaste in my mouth. Oddly, before I went to bed Monday night the Jell-O
didn’t seem as bad as it had earlier.
For the afternoon, I was to follow a strict schedule of pills and laxatives.
Fleet’s Phospho Soda was the suggested laxative to be taken at 1:00
p.m. and at 6:00 p.m. Additionally, there were two prescriptions, one of
which I knew to be an antibiotic, that were to be taken at 2:00 p.m., 4 p.m.,
and 10 p.m. By the time Barbara came in from work, I was in bad shape.
In response to her asking how I was doing, I replied, "I’ve been in
the bathroom all afternoon, and I’m sick as a dog."
I also questioned the need for the second dose of laxative scheduled at 6:00
p.m. Concerned for my well being, Barbara contacted our pharmacy and spoke
to Larry Young. From personal experience, Larry assured Barbara that "round
2" would be less horrific and that it was indeed necessary for me to abide
by the instructions.
I try to imagine myself as tough as the next person when it comes to enduring
the unpleasantries associated with pre-surgical preparations, but by midnight,
I began to look forward to being put to sleep for the surgery. I was scheduled
to arrive at Hospital Admissions between 5:30 a.m. and 6:00 a.m., and while
I wasn’t sure what would happen there, I figured it wouldn’t be
as bad as what I had experienced for the past seventeen hours.
Once arriving at the hospital, I was surprised at how quickly I was assigned
a pre-surgery prep room. I was presented a hospital gown and a hair bonnet
and told to disrobe and put on the hospital garb. Soon, a surgical orderly
arrived with a set of clippers and announced he would be shaving me.
"Did they tell you how much of an area I’ll be shaving?" he asked, after
introducing himself.
"No," I responded.
"Well, it’s everything from here to here," he replied, indicating the
region from my chest to mid-thigh.
"Whoa, you’re a hairy one," he exclaimed as he began his work.
Oddly, I have never considered myself a "hairy one." I’ve seen plenty
of guys with more body hair than me, but I didn’t protest his assessment.
Instead, I tried to relax and focus my thoughts away from my present
circumstances.
A second orderly entered to help the first one, and it wasn’t long until
their work was done. Once, I remember raising my head high enough to see
how they were progressing and observed how white I appeared from my chest
to my thighs.
I commented, "I look like a bullfrog, lying belly-up on a dissection table."
I don’t know how accurately I fit the description, but they found it
amusing.
The next half-hour is a blur, but I remember Sue Nabors, my anesthetist,
checking on me, and I think Lee Gordon was present as I was moved into surgery.
I vaguely remember being asked if family members were with me, and I explained
they had been shown to a waiting area. I have no memory of entering the surgery
room.
I’ve read of persons seeing a bright light in a near-death experience.
I once knew a meat cutter who accidentally stabbed himself with a meat knife,
had to have surgery, died on the operating table, and was brought back to
life. He vividly recalled his out of body experience and watched the
doctor’s trying to resuscitate him as he hovered above them and heard
their conversation. He also remembered seeing a bright light and persons
he described as Jesus and his grandmother. He said he was able to communicate
with them without speaking a word. He somehow understood he could choose
to stay or go back to life on earth. Desiring to see his children grow up,
he chose to return.
Prior to my surgery I said nothing to Barbara or Sara Sue, regarding my thoughts
on the possibility of dying, but I felt so poorly that morning that I had
already decided if I saw the bright light, Jesus, or deceased family member,
I wasn’t coming back. That’s not to say, I didn’t have anything
to live for, but it reflects my mental state at the time.
Weeks prior to learning I had prostate cancer, I had spoken to Barbara about
not being ready to die. I explained that while I was certain I would spend
eternity in Heaven, I couldn’t foresee having done all the things I
wanted to do before dying. There’s always something to keep a homeowner
occupied, and the fix-up projects in my job jar are growing at faster rate
than I can manage. Some projects require time, others money, and some require
time and money. Since time is about as hard to come by as money, I may never
get to a point where I feel I can leave this world having finished the things
I wanted to do.
…to be continued.
Bodock Beau
Church Humor
Readers may have heard these before, but good jokes bear repeating and may
actually be funnier the second time around.
A little child in church for the first time watched as the ushers passed
the offering plates. When they neared the pew where he sat, the youngster
piped up so that everyone could hear: "Don't pay for me Daddy, I'm under
five."
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A little boy was attending his first wedding. After the service, his cousin
asked him, "How many women can a man marry?"
"Sixteen," the boy responded.
His cousin was amazed that he had an answer so quickly. "How do you know
that?"
"Easy," the little boy said. "All you have to do is add it up, like the Bishop
said: 4 better, 4 worse, 4 richer, 4 poorer."
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After a church service on Sunday morning, a young boy suddenly announced
to his mother, "Mom, I've decided to become a minister when I grow
up."
"That's okay with us, but what made you decide
that?"
"Well," said the little boy, "I have to go to church on Sunday anyway, and
I figure it will be more fun to stand up and yell, than to sit and listen."
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A little girl was sitting on her grandfather's lap as he read her a bedtime
story. From time to time, she would take her eyes off the book and reach
up to touch his wrinkled cheek. She was alternately stroking her own cheek,
then his again.
Finally she spoke up,"Grandpa, did God make you?"
"Yes, sweetheart," he answered, "God made me a long time
ago."
"Oh," she paused, "Grandpa, did God make me
too?"
"Yes, a little while ago."
Feeling their respective faces again, she observed, "God's getting better
at it, isn't he?"
Contributed by Adam Goslin
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