Right now I have nine different tubes attached to me. I have leg warmers on that inflate/deflate/repeat to protect me from blood clots. I have a pulse oxidation monitor on my left index finger that measures my oxygen saturation. I have a catheter. The biggest trouble-maker is the chest tube that is coming out from my back. Because I had cuts made to my lung during surgery, the lung can now leak. Leaking air into the abdominal cavity is what causes lungs to collapse. So I have a chest tube that lightly suctions out all air, and some fluid as it builds up inside me. Because the chest tube is super-painful, I’ve also a pain ball: it is a small bag of numbing medicine with tubing running to the spinal cord where it blocks the nerves. Finally, I have my port accessed for blood draws and administering medicines, along with two IVs in my right arm.
You should see the scene when I try to sit up out of the bed: all 9 tubes have to release me. It must be comical. Just to keep things interesting, I also have phone and laptop cords constantly getting tangled in the mix.
Brad spent the night with me last night, and I had all of my immediate family come visit today. It was a pleasant day in the hospital. Staff and visitors alike quick to serve me, and I am relaxing and letting them.
As I lay here, confined to a bed with a fuzzy narcotics brain, I find myself dreaming up my Bucket List. I am not sad or lonely. I am hopeful and trusting that I will be one of the lucky ones who lives for decades following a Stage IV diagnosis. And that is really all I have thought about.
I am peaceful. God is good.