The Need for Speed

The rapidity of my admission and bladder cancer surgery was an eye-opening experience. I had a cystoscopy and biopsy then set a follow-up appointment late the following week. Hoping to get good news before the start of a three-day weekend, I called the clinic on Friday.

The receptionist put me on hold, then came back and told me I would have to speak to the doctor. That didn't sound like good news to me. Then she told me she was setting up an appointment for me on the Tuesday after the labor day weekend. I explained to her that I already had an appointment scheduled for Thursday, but she insisted that I come in on Tuesday.

That really did not sound good.

Bladder cancer surgery

Of course, it was cancer and my bladder was going to have to come out. My surgeon explained that he wanted to do the surgery as soon as possible. He would be contacting several hospitals to see where he could get me in the soonest. As he warned, I got calls from several hospitals. I called the clinic to see which one they wanted to use and set up an appointment for admission. Less than two weeks after diagnosis, I was in the operating room.

Thanks, doc

I felt fortunate to have a doctor who was fighting so aggressively for me. His determination gave me comfort that I was in the very best of hands, but it was also very concerning. Though his demeanor was always calm in my presence, his drive to get this done was an obvious sign that things were serious.

I have wondered since then if I was only days away from my cancer spreading. That would have been a death sentence. It is entirely possible that my surgeon saved my life by fighting to get me into the hospital as soon as possible.

Consequences of surgery

Because of my expedited admission, some of the support services were delayed. Physical therapy was one of them. That had consequences I did not see coming.

I came to understand that my intestines were not moving. Your intestines are supposed to squirm around inside of you like a ball of procreating snakes as they work food through the length. The trauma of having a section cut out of it and being sewed back together had paralyzed mine.

I would be unable to eat anything until I could get my innards moving again. One of the things that would help that happen would be walking. Hence, my consternation about the physical therapy guy not showing for three days.

Bladder cancer physical therapy begins

He finally arrived Wednesday afternoon and I was going to try and stand for the first time since Monday morning. The idea was I would try to walk to the door and back. He strapped me up in some sort of BDSM harness that he would use to support me if I was unable to stand on my own. This guy was a buck fifty at most soaking wet. As I mentioned earlier, I tip the scales at 230. Well, maybe 220 by now. Make that 215.

Lights out!

Still, bondage equipment or not, I didn't have a lot of faith this little fellow could keep me on my feet if my lights went out. He kept cautioning me to go easy, even suggested that we just have me sit on the edge of the bed on the first attempt. I wasn't having any of that. I was going for a walk down the hallway. I had more trouble than I expected just sitting up, but I managed to make it to the side of the bed. I swung my legs over and things went dark for a second. The PT guy held my shoulders and admonished me to just take it easy for a minute.

Date with the hallway

The world again appeared out of the fog and I was able to sit on the side of the bed without assistance. I sat there for a while and the PT guy suggested that this was enough for our first attempt. No way. I had a date with the hallway and I was going to keep it. I slid carefully off the edge of the bed and allowed my feet to take my full weight.

Back to bed

I'm not sure what happened next. The PT guy was stouter than he looked. I either stepped or fell forward a couple of steps because when I started to come back to myself, he was actually supporting me with the bondage harness and managed to haul my limp tuckus back to the bed. He got me seated and after I sat there a while, I was able to think again.

"Are you ready to lay down?" he asked. "Yeah," I agreed.

Bless the bowel movements

After a few days of PT, there came a blessed movement of the bowels. That meant my innards were squirming again. My doctor said I might be able to eat a solid breakfast the next morning. Mrs. Sharon ran to the cafeteria bright and early and bought a sausage, cheese, and egg biscuit. We then waited anxiously for the doctor to come in and give me the final blessing for a solid breakfast. He came in and listened to my stomach with his stethoscope, then gave us the thumbs up. I was "go" for sausage.

I thought I would wolf the thing down in one bite. I nibbled some crumbs from the biscuit. It turns out that if you don't put anything into your stomach for five days, it shrinks.

Too busy, to be frightened

One blessing of such a rush to treatment was that I didn't have weeks to worry about it. I was swept through the event so fast that it didn’t fully register. It was only after the fact, looking back, that I really understood much of what had happened to me.

People have asked me, "Were you scared?" Of course the day I first heard the C-word I was terrified. But by the time I was in the hospital, I was too busy and disoriented to be frightened. And for that I am grateful.

Would you like to talk to others in the bladder cancer community about their surgery experience? Reach out in our forums.