LJ Idol, Season 9: Week 6 - "Step on a Crack"
Did you know that something as tiny as a grain of sand, a mere crystalline formation, could mean the difference between life and death?
My then seventy-one year old mother-in-law, Violet, found this out the hard way back in December of 2002, when she had intense abdominal pain after dining on mustard greens. Her doctor diagnosed her with gallstones.
*step*
A CAT scan was performed to find out more information regarding the size and number of stones. Unexpectedly, her doctor also discovered a large tumor - about the size of a softball - growing like a bulbous mushroom on her liver.
*crack*
A week or so later, while in the operating room to remove her diseased gallbladder, the surgeon performed a biopsy on the liver tumor, and found it to be malignant. They scheduled a second surgery to remove the tumor for January 2, 2003, and the expectation was that they might have to remove as much as 75% of her liver at that time.
*step*
It was a cold Thursday morning in January. Many members of Violet's family met at the hospital that morning, to provide moral support and perhaps offer up a few prayers. Violet’s older sister Dora and Dora's husband Joe were there, as well as both of Violet's sons, her other daughter-in-law, and myself. The surgery was predicted to last 8 to 10 hours. There was about a sixty percent chance that Violet might not survive the surgery, but if she did - and if the doctor had to remove as much of her liver as he thought he might - discussions about a potential partial liver donation were being held. We passed the time as best we could, talking softly amongst ourselves, holding hands, and hoping for the best.
*crack*
Two hours later, the surgeon came into the waiting room. "Oh lordy," Aunt Dora - always the pessimist - said with a quaver in her voice, "She's dead of the cancer so they just sewed her back up!"
Uncle Joe watched the doctor as he approached, and we could see Joe's stress melt away. "The doctors usually don't come out smiling when it's bad news," he told his wife with a grin.
*step*
Indeed, the doctor was pleased to deliver good news for a change. The tumor was only attached to Violet's liver in one spot about the size of a quarter. Even better, the malignancy was completely within the tumor itself, and hadn't yet invaded her liver tissue. So instead of removing a life-changing seventy-five percent, only a cursory ten percent of the liver was excised. Violet's recovery was relatively quick, and her quality of life, I am pleased to announce, was not impacted at all.
If it hadn't been for those tiny crystals of calcium salts that coalesced into attention-getting gallstones all those years ago, Violet might not be with us today.
Thank you, gallbladder, for doing what you did.
My mother-in-law thanks you too.
My then seventy-one year old mother-in-law, Violet, found this out the hard way back in December of 2002, when she had intense abdominal pain after dining on mustard greens. Her doctor diagnosed her with gallstones.
*step*
A CAT scan was performed to find out more information regarding the size and number of stones. Unexpectedly, her doctor also discovered a large tumor - about the size of a softball - growing like a bulbous mushroom on her liver.
*crack*
A week or so later, while in the operating room to remove her diseased gallbladder, the surgeon performed a biopsy on the liver tumor, and found it to be malignant. They scheduled a second surgery to remove the tumor for January 2, 2003, and the expectation was that they might have to remove as much as 75% of her liver at that time.
*step*
It was a cold Thursday morning in January. Many members of Violet's family met at the hospital that morning, to provide moral support and perhaps offer up a few prayers. Violet’s older sister Dora and Dora's husband Joe were there, as well as both of Violet's sons, her other daughter-in-law, and myself. The surgery was predicted to last 8 to 10 hours. There was about a sixty percent chance that Violet might not survive the surgery, but if she did - and if the doctor had to remove as much of her liver as he thought he might - discussions about a potential partial liver donation were being held. We passed the time as best we could, talking softly amongst ourselves, holding hands, and hoping for the best.
*crack*
Two hours later, the surgeon came into the waiting room. "Oh lordy," Aunt Dora - always the pessimist - said with a quaver in her voice, "She's dead of the cancer so they just sewed her back up!"
Uncle Joe watched the doctor as he approached, and we could see Joe's stress melt away. "The doctors usually don't come out smiling when it's bad news," he told his wife with a grin.
*step*
Indeed, the doctor was pleased to deliver good news for a change. The tumor was only attached to Violet's liver in one spot about the size of a quarter. Even better, the malignancy was completely within the tumor itself, and hadn't yet invaded her liver tissue. So instead of removing a life-changing seventy-five percent, only a cursory ten percent of the liver was excised. Violet's recovery was relatively quick, and her quality of life, I am pleased to announce, was not impacted at all.
If it hadn't been for those tiny crystals of calcium salts that coalesced into attention-getting gallstones all those years ago, Violet might not be with us today.
Thank you, gallbladder, for doing what you did.
My mother-in-law thanks you too.