10/02/2003
Surgical Surprises
If you’re looking for science this week, you can skip this column. As I threatened last week, I am resorting to talking about my operation, not having been up to any more complicated subjects during my recuperation. But first, it’s October and the perennial appearance of the New York Yankees in the playoffs, if not the World Series. In the Book Review section of the September 28 New York Times, Michael Shapiro reviews the book “Taking on the Yankees” by Henry Fetter. I didn’t remember that the Yankees were immigrants to New York, coming from Baltimore after being sold in 1903 to a group of “well-connected” New Yorkers. The Yankees were then called the Highlanders, possibly because they were originally stationed in Washington Heights in northern Manhattan. It wasn’t until 1913 that they became the Yankees when they moved to the Polo Grounds, with the New York Giants as their landlord. It took another decade and the acquisition of Babe Ruth before Yankee Stadium was opened and the Bronx Bombers were born.
Of course, you’re wondering what happened to the land where the Yankees played in Washington Heights? It is now the site of the Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center, one of the world’s premier hospitals. As you might suspect if you read last week’s column on the kidney, I found myself in that establishment on September 19 at 6 AM for surgery to remove a tumor in my kidney. We live about an hour from the hospital and had planned to drive in from home that morning.
The day preceding the surgery was rather hectic. For one thing, you may remember that, after my column on pinhole corrosion in copper, we encountered that same problem in our roof’s copper valley, resulting in water leaking into our bedroom. With Isabel bearing down on us we actually found Ben, a roofer who, late that afternoon with Isabel’s winds picking up and rain threatening, clambered up on our roof and completely tarred the copper valley. Thank you, Ben.
After Ben’s departure, our Lamb creator, Harry Trumbore, called to say that our governor had declared a state of emergency and suggested we leave immediately for a motel just this side of the George Washington Bridge. (The hospital is right at the GW Bridge exit on the other side.) My wife and I have never packed so fast in our life and within about 90 minutes we were settled in the Englewood Radisson. This proved a wise move as the next morning there were trees and power lines down in our town along our route.
This was my first major surgery and there were some surprises. For example, as I was being prepped for the operation, I asked if they might have to break a rib. The chief resident replied that, actually, they might remove a rib so as to better get at the kidney and minimize the size of the incision. Sure enough, I am now minus one rib and about 20 percent of the kidney. The curving incision seems to me to be over a foot long and I wonder how big it would have been if I had kept the rib.
Another surprise was in the field of pain management. I had expected to be absolutely miserable but for the whole day after surgery, as I lay in bed I felt absolutely no pain whatsoever. The awakening came when I had to get out of bed to sit in a chair. That hurt! Nevertheless, I was amazed and pleased at the lack of pain except when having to move around. In fact, I was chastised by the nurses and doctors for not pushing my morphine button. Never thought I would be bawled out for not using a narcotic drug!
There’s a price to pay for the use of the pain-killing drugs. They shut down the peristalsis that pushes food and waste along through your intestines. This caused me to be denied food or water for four days! One gets very thirsty. But I was really surprised when the physical therapist took me for a walk and we passed a scale in the hallway. On no food or water, I had gained 8 pounds! Apparently, this was due to accumulation of fluids from liquids introduced intravenously.
I also had not anticipated that both my first meals and my release from the hospital would be determined by the occurrence of a normally socially frowned-upon event, the passing of gas. I qualified for both meals and release on the fifth day of my hospital stay. Another surprise came as I put my pants on to leave and I couldn’t close them. My belt wouldn’t even meet around my so-called waist. This situation prevails even today and my wife has found an old pair of pants with elastic. I now fit right in with the younger, low-slung fashion scene.
I got some good news yesterday. My tumor proved to be an oncocytoma, which my surgeon’s nurse assured me was the best possible news. There apparently is debate in medical circles as to whether this type of tumor is cancerous or not. At any rate, it seems that no chemo is required. Now I can worry about more mundane things like will my waist reappear or will I have to buy a whole new wardrobe? I can live with that.
Allen F. Bortrum
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