I’m Going Away for a While; Reconstructive Surgery, Part Six
By the time most of you read this I’ll be in an operating room at UC La Jolla with a team of surgeons trying to put me back together again. If past experience is any indication, it will be an all-day event.
WARNING: Probably too much information ahead. It’s my saga and I’ll share it if I want to.
I will be extra afraid for a few minutes as they wheel me into the cold operating room, hoist me onto the narrow table, put a pillow under my knees and attach the restraints on my arms. Then they begin the checklist to make sure everybody is on the same page…
Roughly translated:
Patient is Doug Porter, male, age 72, neck breather, here for “Flap muscle, myocutaneous or fasciocutaneous; head/neck, trunk, upper extremities,” Dr Frederick Kolb in charge…
Then the first wave of anesthesia hits, like a velvet blanket smothering my consciousness. I’ll resist for a couple of seconds and then I’m gone. If I’m lucky this will be the last thing I remember until I wake up in recovery. The hangover, however, is a bitch.
For those of you just joining this saga, I was operated on for a recurrence of cancer in December, 2020. “Squamous cell carcinoma of pharynx” meant they removed the throat tissues left in place after my laryngectomy in 2012.
They got all the cancer. Reconstruction attempt # 1 failed. I was back in the emergency room coughing up blood clots two days after being released from the hospital.
Reconstruction attempt #2 was serious and painful stuff, leaving me in the hospital for more than two weeks. A not fun experience.
And just to be on the safe side, I underwent six weeks of twice daily radiation treatments.
Reconstruction attempt #3 was in October 2021, #4 was in January 2022, #5 was in May, #6 was in June. This last event was “throwing in the towel” on all the earlier attempts, leaving me with open wounds that had to be cleaned and dressed daily.
This time around they are going to be closing up all the open wounds, using skin grafts from other parts of my body. The goal here is to give me a functioning throat again.
What happens next is supposed to be a happy ending, whereby I go home after five days and get verification that the surgery was a success in about a month.
I honestly don’t know what to think about the future. Six general anesthesia events for a person my age in the space of two years can’t be a good thing. I’m a tough old bird, as my friend Larry likes to say, but I’m not immune to the physiological and psychological trauma that comes with so much surgery.
So I’m looking at six weeks of physical therapy and an equal amount of psychological help. My therapist says I’m ready.
I’d like to have a life again, one where I can have social interactions beyond the walls of my home and the doctor’s offices I visit four or five times a month.
I have recently acquired an ipad loaded with text to speech software, and am almost proficient with it as long as I don’t try to hurry. It’s easy to fall behind or get talked over if you’re focused on a screen and trying to avoid stupid autocorrects.
Having coffee with a friend would be a thrilling experience, one I hope to have by Labor Day. Having dinner with my wife would be all the holiday celebrations rolled into one.
I expect to start posting again on or before August 8. The following six weeks will be all about compiling a general election voter guide. I really do welcome input, even if I end up disagreeing or not using the information because I deem it to be irrelevant.
Send me your press releases, hate mail, and scurrilous gossip.
Thank you for reading my newsletters.
Email me at WritetoDougPorter@Gmail.com