It's done. The prostate is gone and with it, the terrifying cancer. I return next month for further tests to see if they truly "got it all," as Dr. Dasari assures me. I feel a little guilty that all this was more or less effortless. Shouldn't I have been locked in my room, shivering under the covers with fear? Even the day of the surgery, I was more annoyed at having to be at Centennial at 5:30 a.m. than scared. I think the appendix experience served as a dress rehearsal for what was to come. I knew I would be in the same operating room, recovery room, and would be on the 4th floor again post surgery. I have no bad after-effects from anesthesia ... in fact, I couldn't wait for them to just knock me out. Waking up was miserable and I hurt and that stupid catheter was uncomfortable and the most difficult thing to get used to. But as always, my clown gene kicked in the moment I awoke and I asked the nurse if they got the name on the truck that hit me. My off-the-wall sense of humor is a family trait that I particularly love — to make jokes in the face of adversity. I cannot stress how vital it's been to me in every dark period of my life — not to make light of the situation or to be insensitive, but to break the tension with silliness. I believe it's easier for a comedian to play a dramatic role than it is for a dramatic actor to try to be funny. That's why I love comedy ... but you also have to know when to use it without seeming inappropriate (I'm still working on that one).
For the record, the laparoscopic appendectomy on Dec. 3 was a far worse experience than the radical robot-assisted prostatectomy (RAP). Funny how I'm able to rattle off those big medical terms like a member of the E.R. or Grey's Anatomy cast. My post-dual-surgery life is definitely a period of adjustment. Functions that were automatic now require a lot of forethought and concentration. I'm praying for patience ... and I want it NOW! The Dr. says things will be better very soon but I guess for now it Depends® (inappropriate).
I mostly owe my "peaceful, easy feeling" (to quote a song) to the prayers, constant support, and the love of my family and a legion of dear friends.
I cannot thank everyone enough for the acts of kindness —
My beloved parents for always being there before anyone and for taking me back home to the room I slept in as a child to recuperate. I don't care how old you are, no one can sense what you need better than your mother. [For more on that tender subject, you must read Mitch Albom's new book for one more day ]
My precious children and grandchildren, whose love and presence in my life is what inspired me to go ahead with the surgery. Every day, week, month, and year that I can stay here on this planet to watch them as they grow and change and become the wonderful, caring, fun-loving and sensitive people that I always hoped and prayed they'd be.
My many beloved friends, who have boosted me through every low ebb of my emotional-roller-coaster life. I've heard from life-long pals throughout my illness and recovery. I can never adequately express my appreciation and love to you for the cards, e-mails, flowers, phone calls, hospital and home visits, all the fantastic food (I lost 10 lbs but I'm sure I'll gain that back plus some), and mostly the unconditional love and support you've shown. It humbles me and I just don't have the words to thank you enough.
There were many highs and lows for me in 2006 — the 60th wedding anniversary of my parents stands out as the highlight of the year — and some huge personal losses in the passing of my dear friends Lon Gary and Anne Tonelson. Losing them hurt far worse than cancer. I still mourn their loss and wish every day that they had been as lucky as I've been with my cancer experience. Pray for their families.
I wish for you all a happy and healthy 2007! You must schedule regular physical exams. I cannot stress how important early detection is in treating life-threatening illness. My daughter Elizabeth (one of my heroes), is expecting her fourth child in June and we're all thrilled! She's the smartest and best mother in the world. Beating cancer has given me a fresh outlook and courage I didn't know I had to finally pursue some dreams I've let simmer on the back burner for far too long. I'll tell you more in the coming weeks.
God bless you all!
Danny
December 29, 2006
For the record, the laparoscopic appendectomy on Dec. 3 was a far worse experience than the radical robot-assisted prostatectomy (RAP). Funny how I'm able to rattle off those big medical terms like a member of the E.R. or Grey's Anatomy cast. My post-dual-surgery life is definitely a period of adjustment. Functions that were automatic now require a lot of forethought and concentration. I'm praying for patience ... and I want it NOW! The Dr. says things will be better very soon but I guess for now it Depends® (inappropriate).
I mostly owe my "peaceful, easy feeling" (to quote a song) to the prayers, constant support, and the love of my family and a legion of dear friends.
I cannot thank everyone enough for the acts of kindness —
My beloved parents for always being there before anyone and for taking me back home to the room I slept in as a child to recuperate. I don't care how old you are, no one can sense what you need better than your mother. [For more on that tender subject, you must read Mitch Albom's new book for one more day ]
My precious children and grandchildren, whose love and presence in my life is what inspired me to go ahead with the surgery. Every day, week, month, and year that I can stay here on this planet to watch them as they grow and change and become the wonderful, caring, fun-loving and sensitive people that I always hoped and prayed they'd be.
My many beloved friends, who have boosted me through every low ebb of my emotional-roller-coaster life. I've heard from life-long pals throughout my illness and recovery. I can never adequately express my appreciation and love to you for the cards, e-mails, flowers, phone calls, hospital and home visits, all the fantastic food (I lost 10 lbs but I'm sure I'll gain that back plus some), and mostly the unconditional love and support you've shown. It humbles me and I just don't have the words to thank you enough.
There were many highs and lows for me in 2006 — the 60th wedding anniversary of my parents stands out as the highlight of the year — and some huge personal losses in the passing of my dear friends Lon Gary and Anne Tonelson. Losing them hurt far worse than cancer. I still mourn their loss and wish every day that they had been as lucky as I've been with my cancer experience. Pray for their families.
I wish for you all a happy and healthy 2007! You must schedule regular physical exams. I cannot stress how important early detection is in treating life-threatening illness. My daughter Elizabeth (one of my heroes), is expecting her fourth child in June and we're all thrilled! She's the smartest and best mother in the world. Beating cancer has given me a fresh outlook and courage I didn't know I had to finally pursue some dreams I've let simmer on the back burner for far too long. I'll tell you more in the coming weeks.
God bless you all!
Danny
December 29, 2006
1 comment:
Wow. I certainly wouldn't consider myself a hero, but to hear someone say that about you, "It sho feel good." I love you.
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