Tomorrow, Out Comes the Tube

Ron goes in for surgery tomorrow to get the Pleurx removed from his belly.  He keeps correcting me, saying, “It’s not surgery.  It’s just them putting some lidocaine on it and pulling the tube out.”  We are both hoping and praying it goes just that smoothly, with no complications.  He says they will likely not even have to put him under for the procedure, not even with mild sedation.  He is far braver than I, for he is excited about not needing pain medications or anesthetic to have this done.  If all goes well, we should be in and out of Borgess relatively quickly tomorrow.  The appointment is at 8am and I will do my best to post something as soon as we get home and get settled back in.  We have visiting nurses coming to the house throughout the weekend to check on and treat the site after surgery.  I have no idea how much or little follow-up care it will require; guess I expect to be educated tomorrow.  I am blessed with a job that is allowing me to be out of the office next week to be at home with Ron so he can take it easy and recover. 

Ron has an appointment with his new oncologist on Monday, just because he wants to check on how Ron is doing after the procedure tomorrow.  Imagine that!?  After being with the former doctor for more than 6 months and offering to show him/asking him to look at the Pleurx site and him declining/refusing to see it at each appointment (because he did not put it in, so it was not his, but rather U of M’s business), this doctor is actually making an appointment the next business day from the surgery to meet Ron and see how things are going beneath the dressing.  It is a breath of fresh air, to think we are already getting calls back and having complicated things, like this procedure and all the players it entails, coordinated so much more quickly and effortlessly.  Just the fact that this doctor is moving forward, at the recommendation of U of M, and removing the tube is far more hopeful than the former doctor who told us (and other healthcare providers) that there was “nothing more that could be done.”  Finally, it does not feel like pulling teeth to have someone attending to Ron’s care.  This means I am starting to feel like I can trust them more to do their jobs with his best interest in mind and I can relax and focus on being there for Ron.  I can only hope this trend continues.

Remember us in thoughts and prayers tomorrow morning.  The mantra: an easy, simple surgery (err . . . sorry, Ron, tube-yanking), and a pain-free, short, and uncomplicated healing.