The Recovery Nazi

It is 9:45 a.m. and Clem is finally calm for the first time in about 12 hours. The charge nurse came and supervised his care this morning which proved to be our salvation. His ostomy bag began leaking again this morning around 3 a.m. but we opted to do the best we could to prevent major catastrophe and call upon experts in the morning. That proved to be a good strategy because not only did we get much more experienced people but we got special gear to accommodate his particular problem. Susan was very nice last night but competence and congeniality are two totally different assets. I think right now we'll stick with the competence.

The nurses this morning really knew their stuff and basically made sound suggestions to the Doctor to alleviate his problems. His surgical dressing and his ostomy bag are now pristine and the drug combination is doing the job. I have closed the blinds and fluffed his pillow and he is totally out. I felt myself take a full deep breath just minutes ago and realized that I have been essentially holding my breath all night long. It is hard to witness suffering.

Today we will sleep and hopefully at some point attempt to get back on our schedule of walking and eating. He can eat anything he wants and is hungry but the pain and the vomiting have stolen his apetite. It is very important for him to take in lots of fluid because his ileostomy execretes much of the liquid that is normally absorbed by the body. Here in the hospital he has IV therapy to compensate for this but at home he will have to do lots of fluid.

We have learned that the hospital stay is a training ground for what must happen at home. It is important to begin forming your recovery regime right from the beginning. The steps are small at first but the important thing is to burn and imprint a daily schedule in your mind. Your body does not always want to cooperate but as you slowly receive positive feedback from the activities it becomes easier and more willing. My job comes at the beginning. I am the Recovery Nazi.

The Recovery Nazi makes you get out of bed, makes you walk further down the hall than you want, offers you drinks every 15 minutes, repeatedly reviews the bad effects associated with getting a blood clot, evaluates the staff to see who are the smart ones, fields calls and tells friends and family not to come visit so you can rest, holds the vomit pan, and repeats over and over to breath slowly in through your nose and out your mouth. Initially I thought Clem was going to punch me a few times but now that he has gone through one major surgery he too understands the importance of the regime.

Most of the time being a Recovery Nazi is just like being a Mom but occasionally it reaches a whole new level a place where I have never been. Last night was certainly one of those times. I wanted so bad to curl up in the bed with him and comfort him but touching him was just out of the question. I just held his hand and punched the morphine pump everytime I felt him grimace. He would nod off for minutes at a time and then wake to tell me how much he loved me and that I should get some rest. Even though I am exhausted and ache everywhere this morning I feel that it was a small price to pay for such meaningful moments.

The longer I live the more that life reveals little surprises. You would think that a diagnosis of cancer would offer only a life of fear and anxiety but instead I have found the true beauty in marriage that we all thought we would instantly receive when we picked out our china patterns and said "I do" as young adults. It is a wonderful gift and it has infused my thoughts with an entirely different outlook. As I held Clem's hand last night I remembered our vows and found comfort in the words..."in sickness and in health".

Life is an unpredictable friend and it has not been that long since I was in the hospital bed and Clem was carrying my catheter bag down the hall. No one prepares you or could even convey to you the intimacy and love associated with those moments. Young people believe that love is the happy ending stories that you see in chick flicks but the truly beautiful side of love sometimes wears a disguise of ugliness.

Last night I was with Clem as he fought through one of the worst nights of his life. Experiences of this nature creates a cement in a relationship that is not easily broken. I do not feel sad. I do not feel cheated by God or life or by cancer. I only feel lucky that in the temporary scheme of things I have been able to recognize and embrace at least some of the meaningful moments when they have passed my way. Do not feel sorry for us we have more than anyone could imagine and our cache of treasures grows larger day after day, night after night, minute by minute. This morning as I lay down to rest my wishes will be for all of you to be as satisfied as I am right now.