My New Normal
It's been almost two weeks since my prostate was removed and the second worst week of my life commenced. Only Pale Male and Cody knew anything about it. Haven't even told Big Bro' and Sis. What would have been the point? I was in the hospital exactly one night and it wasn't worth the logistics involved in getting three elderly people (including my SIL) to the Upper West Side of Manhattan in such a tiny window of time. Luckily, Pale Male lives about six blocks away from the hospital and not only was he able to help getting me discharged but his partner brought me my first bit of solid food the whole week, the next day in Brooklyn: a container of rice pudding.
The hard part was wearing a catheter, something I didn't even know existed until Big Bro' had to wear one during a much longer hospital stay about a year ago. But, that was while he was in the hospital. I was wearing one for an entire week in my own home, connected to a tube which emptied into a plastic bag. I had to empty the bag every morning when I awoke.
I had a "portable" version of the bag which could be strapped to my leg. I used that to move around the house during the day. I even wore it to church for a funeral in the middle of the week. Hanging over my first post-opvisit to the hospital in order to remove the catheter was the threat that I would have to live with the catheter in order to urinate. It was all contingent on my being able to pee three times over the space of three hours while at the hospital.
That first visit to the men's room was a tecnical success. I was able to coax a thin stream through the usual pipeline. The next two were much stronger and I began to breathe a little more easily. A sonogram of my bladder confirmed that it had emptied pretty much according to plan.
The gradual realization of how close I came to not dodging a bullet has been fueling a sense of euphoria ever since, even crowding out the fact that I weigh about five pounds less despite two weeks of consuming every comfort food I could think of. Who knew that a prostate weighed that much!
The hard part was wearing a catheter, something I didn't even know existed until Big Bro' had to wear one during a much longer hospital stay about a year ago. But, that was while he was in the hospital. I was wearing one for an entire week in my own home, connected to a tube which emptied into a plastic bag. I had to empty the bag every morning when I awoke.
I had a "portable" version of the bag which could be strapped to my leg. I used that to move around the house during the day. I even wore it to church for a funeral in the middle of the week. Hanging over my first post-opvisit to the hospital in order to remove the catheter was the threat that I would have to live with the catheter in order to urinate. It was all contingent on my being able to pee three times over the space of three hours while at the hospital.
That first visit to the men's room was a tecnical success. I was able to coax a thin stream through the usual pipeline. The next two were much stronger and I began to breathe a little more easily. A sonogram of my bladder confirmed that it had emptied pretty much according to plan.
The gradual realization of how close I came to not dodging a bullet has been fueling a sense of euphoria ever since, even crowding out the fact that I weigh about five pounds less despite two weeks of consuming every comfort food I could think of. Who knew that a prostate weighed that much!