PONO'S
COLON CANCER

Funny Spots Dealing With Colon Cancer

As I said in "Bad Spots", very few of the experiences associated with colon cancer can be thought of as bright spots, but to anyone with a sense of humor, there were some "Funny Spots".

The Colostomy

The colostomy puts one in closer touch with one's "inner workings" than I think we are meant to be.  Lack of control over those "inner workings" puts other folks in closer touch than I think they are meant to be.  Noises and sudden bulges, while embarrassing, can usually be covered by a cough, conversation, and/or rearrangement of clothing or position.  By and large, people (closest family notwithstanding) are tolerant and understanding and forgiving.

It was when I was alone with my "inner workings" that I had my biggest laughs.  I never became accustomed to the loud reports that increased the size of the bag and I often jerked spasmodically when they occurred.  I was amused by the more subtle releases that interacted with the bag for a rhythmic rattle.  I experienced some of the ghost feelings that amputees report when my lower body missed its natural morning's morning.  I was sometimes amazed by quantity.  I had no idea how quality varied.  I was shocked by the odors.  I developed great empathy with caregivers of persons requiring diapers.

I was fortunate to have the colostomy for a limited time.  I didn't have it long enough to train my bowels, so output was unpredictable.  At home, I showered regularly, usually with the bag removed and the wafer in place, but every three or four days when the wafer needed changing, I showered with the bag and wafer removed.  Occasionally I felt "vulnerable" and left both the bag and wafer in place.  I tried to choose a time for showering when I thought my bowel would be inactive, but as I said, output was unpredictable.  On just a couple of occasions, I was blessed with a small "offering" on the shower floor or on the bathmat.  What could I do?  I laughed.

Simple Things

My emotions were very close to the edge during the early recovery from the first operation.  Let's just say I didn't suffer from dry eyes.  Phone calls and visits easily brought on tears, especially as I talked about my experiences.  A couple of other episodes are a little harder to explain.

When I first became aware of my surroundings in the hospital room, I found that I was in a two-bed ward and I had won the window bed.  I hunched up a little and looked outdoors and started crying.  I was on the 4th floor of the hospital on the mauka side.  The view was of the west Maui mountains and across Wailuku right into the Iao valley!  It was spectacular!  I spent hours looking out the window, wouldn't let them close the blinds when the sun was on that side, watched the sun go down behind the mountains every night, and then watched the last few rays rattle around in the valley mists.  It still brings a lump to my throat.

Another one.  After all the eating "issues" before and after the first surgery, one magic day an orderly brought in a tray with a covered plate.  I made a rule to always sit up in a chair for meals for better digestion, but needed help in the early days to accomplish that.  While getting arranged, I kept eyeing that cover.  When I finally got in the proper position, I removed the cover to see a real fried egg, a fake sausage patty, and a scoop of rice.  I cried, but dug in.  That was the first chewable food in way too long and I finished every morsel!

I guess a brush with mortality gives one a different outlook.  I know simple things like a good shower, food and an appetite to eat it, walks in the great outdoors, sunsets, talks with friends and family, and Maui nei mean more to me now than ever before.

Student Nurses

My brush with mortality didn't change all of my personality.  The Pono with little horns on his head is still around.

The hospital has an agreement with the local community college to allow student nurses to get some hands on practice.  I was recipient of care from several of these nurses and they deserve to be treated well.  One of them held my hand all through the removal of the vacuum bandage, bless her.

However another one was assigned to determine my mental state.  This was too much of a challenge for Pono.  She asked my name.  I looked at my bracelet and said I'm either Norm Sandin or xx yy (the surgeon's name).  She smiled.  She asked if I knew where I was.  I said I think I'm somewhere between the gates of heaven and the gates of hell.  With a little coaxing I named the hospital.  She smiled.  She asked if I knew what day it was.  I said it was a day that will live in infamy.  Poor kid was born forty-some years too late to experience it and had no idea what I meant.  I finally shed my horns, explained that it was Pearl Harbor Day, and proceeded to cooperate with the rest of the exam.  Pono is ashamed - a little.

Ostomy Supplies

The wafer and bag associated with dealing with the colostomy are devilishly clever and pretty simple to deal with, but they suffer from PLAIN.  An absolutely hilarious conversation one evening revolved around supplies with colors, patterns, shapes, personalizing, odor spritzers, temperature equalizers, etc.  It is impossible to reproduce the ridiculousness of it all here, but I hope you can imagine some of it.  We went so far as to imagine Pono as the King of Ostomy Supplies.

The cap came a week or so later when one of the participants sent me an e-mail link to a site that actually advertised "colostomy cozies"!  Too late again.

Percent Sign

During recovery from the first surgery, I removed the colostomy wafer one morning and jumped in the shower for a good wash.  Parallel to the shower doors and across the bathroom is a closet with mirrored doors.  For some reason that day I caught my image in the mirror and broke out laughing.  Surgeons over the years had left me with a perfect percent sign on my belly.  The appendectomy, further traumatized by the cecostomy formed a circle, the "big wound" formed the slash, and the stoma formed another circle.  Perhaps it looked more like "o | o" but I like to think of it as "%" (remember I was seeing it in the mirror).

Loss of weight, the reattachment operation, and time have made further changes.  A close look today, without the mirror, would be more like "_ | –" or even "o | –", but I'll always remember the percent sign.

Sponge Suckers

One day, just for fun, when you really feel thirsty, cut a 3/4" square off a sponge, put it on a skewer, add about four drops of water, and suck it.  You know, some company actually makes these things, and the hospital had an oversupply of them.  After the second surgery, I was OG (nothing by mouth) again and these things were offered.  I accepted, and I must admit, the tiny bit of moisture on the back of my tongue was helpful.

After the first surgery they gave me a thing that was more like a big Q-tip with four drops of water.  Can't help but wonder what other implements of torture these companies sell.

Those Wonderful, Tolerant Oncology Nurses

I think I mentioned elsewhere attaching a false mustache below my implanted port when I went in for chemo one time.  That started a habit that went on throughout the 12 doses.  I was reluctant to mark on my body or contaminate the area around the port, but I did put slogans and little messages over the port that were easily removable.  Here are a few that were left over.

DEBI DOES PORTS

‘E MĀLAMA KINO

FIGHTING C WITH ATTITUDE

“ONC” IF YOU HATE CHEMO

ANY PORT IN A NORM

Debi was one of those wonderful people.  'E mālama kino means take care of your body.  It pleased me to make those folks smile.  They deserve so much more!

Fingernails

During chemotherapy it seemed that my fingernails grew very rapidly.  I didn't really measure their progress, so maybe it was just that I was sleeping more and days were going by "faster" than usual.  Anyway, it seemed that I had to cut my nails more often.  I suppose it could also have been that the longer the nails, the more the fingers tingled.  Whatever the cause, I was forced to examine my nails more often as I cut them.

As chemo neared the end, I noticed something strange.  The nails had developed little ridges or stripes across the width of the nail.  The stripes were alternately lighter and darker and I estimated about 1mm per stripe.  The theory I developed was that the infusion of chemicals caused one of the colors and the recovery period between infusions caused the other color.  Once chemo was over the stripes eventually grew out.

If anyone ever reads this and has had a similar experience, I BEG you to write and tell me!

Leg Massagers

I'm not sure where to put this item since my attitude about it changed over time, but let's try it here.

During the self examination after the first surgery, I found something moving around my legs.  These padded devices were wrapped around both legs and they were kind of kneading the muscles of the lower legs.  It was really kind of sensuous and relaxing.  On inquiry I found that they were leg massagers intended to enhance circulation and prevent blood clots.  I lay back, relaxed and enjoyed.

But then after a while I realized that the evil hospital attendants thought that if a little mauling was good, several days of it would be even better.  It got old awfully fast, especially if I was trying to sleep.  I humored them when they felt they needed to strap me in, but I soon learned how to extricate myself from that torture device.

After the second surgery they started using them again, but my fussing and fuming led them to discontinue their use.  So, are leg massagers a funny spot or a bad spot?