October 23

Friday:   I came home from the hospital yesterday afternoon. Ruthanne and Terry had come up Tuesday and were at my house taking care of Matey. It was so nice to see them and visit with them yesterday and this morning. They have now driven back to Detroit. My refrigerator is full of the liquid foods (!!) that I am able to eat in the next week--LIQUIDS ONLY--although they don't have to be clear at least. I can have puddings, jell-o, yogurt, Ensure (a protein drink), Apple juice, Cream of Wheat cereal, cream of Chicken soup and those kinds of liquids. So I am all set. 

I have four rather sore incisions. The larger of them is the one the tumor came out from. All are darkly bruised, sealed with some kind of skin glue (!!), and seem to be healing. That's good. They are creepy to look at.

Tuesday, just before Dr. Onesti wheeled me into surgery, she stopped next to where I was laying and told me she was going to do something. 

"This is something that I do with all of my patients, no matter what. I can do it out loud or I can do it silently--but I pray before each procedure and ask for God's blessing. May I pray out loud for us?" 

So with my friend, Brenda, holding my left hand and Dr. Onesti holding my right, she prayed and gave thanks to "the God of the Universe who created every cell" in my body and asked that none of them be cancerous. She prayed His blessing over every surgical instrument, the surgical robots, computer, anesthesiologists, nurses, and asked Him to bless us no matter the outcome. I think the mile-wide smile stayed on my face the entire 35-minute procedure.

Yes, Dr. Onesti was able to do the shorter procedure and did not need to re-route all of the plumbing. She did caution, though, that when I return to a regular diet, if I have trouble eating and becoming full immediately (that would not be good), she might end up having to do the longer procedure--evidently the tumor was closer to the connector than even the MRI had indicated--but she is hoping this is all I will need. Me TOO. 

For the next six weeks, I have been told that I cannot lift more than TEN pounds--last week they had mentioned fifteen pounds, but at discharge the paperwork indicated TEN. They had a picture of a gallon of milk and stated it weighed EIGHT pounds. I guess for the next month or so, I will not be with my little ones. Perhaps they can stop by with their parents just to say hi for a brief time. I will miss all of them terribly.

Thank you, Lord, for taking such good care of me at the hospital--for the kindness of all of the nurses and doctors and for family and friends.