Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Hyperbaric Chambers)

Six chamber rides later and I’m a semi-pro, nothing at all close to my pro level of chamber skill after the 20 trips I have scheduled in the big iron cylinder (the funny thing is that I think I’m due for 10-20 more after the graft has been put in place). My arm is looking great, but they want it to improve even more and grow more muscle before they’ll cut me loose. It is amazing. You can tell and see a difference where the muscles are getting larger and spreading throughout the entire area. I’m very excited. Some of the top hand model agencies really think I have a chance at making a serious comeback.

Sitting in the room is pretty amusing. Everyone already has their collar on and is sitting nicely in their chairs. Usually there are three of us, all cancer patients and extremely likable. One gentleman is a bit older, maybe upper sixties. I hope my upper sixties demographic just didn’t get pissed at me. I didn’t say some old fart. Get with it upper sixties, you are a bit older…we still love you. Then there is a little boy who has done close to 50 rides in a row as a part of treatment for an inoperable brain tumor. My sources also tell me the HBO has stopped tumor growth in his brain…amazing.

Yesterday when I was putting on my socks with my head down he walked past me and rubbed his fingers back and forth through my hair. I looked up at him and we just smiled at each other... He is the epitome of all the amazing children I’ve encountered, those who all have the most admirable naïve confidence about their survival. He’s more worried about getting out of the chamber and into his apartment swimming pool. An apartment for dedicated families, living away from their real homes to ensure loved-ones get those long treatments and best chances. I was honored to have him touch my head.

On a less serious note, we meet a little after 8, put on our official gear and settle into our chairs. Your chair is your chair, there’s no debating over who got here first. It has your pillows, water, magazines, cyanide pills, and blankets. A nurse goes on the magical voyage with you. No lighters, phones, electronics, etc. allowed. Apparently, a spark from a Dale, Jr. lighter in a SC chamber…I want to say Spartanburg blew the doors off the sucker…no survivors, except the lighter. Man I’m off on some tangents. The most entertaining aspect of the whole chamber experience is the people. They're some of the nicest, friendliest people I've met at the hospital. A really great and wonderfully committed group. Because so little happens and it’s hard to write an entertaining portrayal of the experience. So here it is:

The doors shut. For 15 minutes the chamber pressurizes (and warms) from one atmosphere (sea level) to two atmospheres. Please, no questions about how we’re not sitting at exact sea level. 1 atmosphere is like being 33ft under water, except you sitting in a chair with your PJ’s, reading a 6-month-old version of some car magazine. Once pressurized, your hoods go on and the oxygen is pumped in. Two hours later the cabin depressurizes, taking 15 minutes, cooling during the process. Off with your hood and your ready for your two hour lunch break, because at 1pm, the party starts all over again.

You finish up around four and wonder, how did I just spend that day? For me, it‘s pretty much doing one of two things, intense finger exercises and sleeping, building up my strength for my next finger workout. I knock out quite a bit of exercises, but honestly, when I can't lift another finger, I'll recline to that third posisition and fall asleep. Similar to airline sleeping, I'm mainly just trying to get the remaining time over with, except I have a blanket covering a plastic head dome, blocking out a few lights to make sleeping and daydreaming that much easier.

Mediocre Update

In a few hours, they’re wheeling me off to Duke’s hyperbaric chamber for a 2-hour “dive” in a high concentration of oxygen situation (max depth, 2 atmospheres). This is one of the efforts to strengthen the remaining flap on my arm. I think I heard someone say I'd be going on ten dives ASAP.

After the skin was removed, it was evident that some of the muscle was unhealthy. And by unhealthy, I mean dead or dying. You know, serious...not something like unhealthy heartburn from too much fried food at the fair. Man, they can fry anything these days.

Keeping with my approach to being an oddball patient consistent, the muscle the furthest from where they connected the blood supply looks the best. That pretty much doesn't happen when there is a problem.

I’m tired, highly medicated, and don’t feel like writing now; although, I’ve still been writing and editing this thing for the past 45 minutes. There is a disgusting picture on Triton Photos I took this morning. Feel free to take a peek behind the bandages. I really impressed myself on this one.

As I discussed with the docs this morn, our goals are to get this thing healthy and covered and then get my hand to work. They just want to be super safe with everything. There is an infection they are trying to take care of as well, but I'll know more about that this afternoon. It sounds serious but not serious like I used the word "unhealthy" earlier...

I’m practically writing this thing in my sleep so I’m off for a nap in my room, then I’m crushing a monster nap, when I take my chamber ride, I’ll be locked away from all the nurses, doctors, family, phones, etc, etc. Without spellcheck, you would have thought I put down a fifth of Jack before composing this (if you called you might think the same thing). I think I missppelled 30-40% of the words.

Mad Love

CP

PS I'm back from the chamber...no frills. Hung out in a big chamber for 2 hours with several other people, the most entertaining part was an 85 year old woman who kept falling asleep with her mouth open while sitting straight up.

Basically, you just sit in a recliner in a circular formation with a plastic cylindrical headpiece on to keep the oxygen contained. Since igniting pressurized pure oxygen is bad if you're in the configned space, they keep it concentrated primarily around you head. It’s pretty funny. Everyone kinda looks like Dr. Evil at the end of Austin Powers when Evil had on the plastic suit. The treatment goes well...the people are nice...the place is impressive...and you leave felling great.

GREAT NEWS FLASH: The hand therapist came by just before the HBO (hyperbaric oxygen something etc) and said my hand showed great promise. She complemented me on the noticeable results that could have only come from relentless at-home persistence with the exercises they had given me. Now the brace is off and I’ve got a pamphlet of 15 or so new ones. I’ll be throwing dice and eating Pad Prick Kra Paw with chop sticks in no time.

FYI

Traditional stir-fry with garlic, chili, bell peppers, onions and Thai basil leaves
Choice of tofu/chicken, minced chicken or baby shrimp: 11.99/12.99 (Order Hot)

Outpatient Day Surgery...Four Day Hospital Recovery

I might come back and write more later today or cleans this up. It's 6:50am, I haven't really slept that much and writing a post puts me to sleep faster than anything. By the way I feel great, wearing flops, pj's, and a t-shirts. I'm getting around, keeping it real on the transplant hall, keeping up my appearance. You never know, some disgruntled colon transplant recipient might get out of sorts and try to shank you when you cross paths on the hall just for looking at his nurse wrong. Not to sound like a rat, but I did hear a recent story about a patient roughing up some old lady having a hip replacement for only a six pack of apple juice and four tubes of no rinse soap....Man, I've heard stories....

More realistic facts.

1. I'm here until Saturday most likley.
2. They removed the skin and some dead and bad muscle (not much)
3. I'm here for added wound care to "beef up" the site, making a new graft work beter
4. My hand Dr. was blown away that I could indepenently move my fingers.
5. Currently, the would is bandaged, but uncovered by skin.
6. I might receive several groups of super Oxygen hyperbaric chamber treatments.
7. I'll probably go home with a wound vac on the open wound for 7-10 days
8. At that point they'll regraft.
9. Kirk and Fleming were featured in the Life setion of the N&O yesterday for his cheese hobbying and blogging efforts...very nice article
10. Alot of major decisions with the wound are based on how it looks tomorrow when they first unrap it.
11. Surgery and recovery were a breeze
12. DT told me, whenever he feels bad about anyything, he just thinks of me....HA
13. The best thing is not having my arm smell like some stinky ass chees from Kirk's blog that crosses dirty socks and dead fish

See you in my dreams.

CP

Take Two (more giant strips of my thigh)

I’m scheduled to go back for surgery on Wednesday to regraft the skin on my arm. Statistically almost impossible (which happens to be an ironic reoccurring theme with this whole experience), the entire graft basically failed (died), meaning I have a huge piece of dead, black, somewhat smelly (well maybe not somwhat) skin stapled to my arm. Resembling a real-life, old-fashioned "Grosser than Gross" joke, it would be easy to become discouraged…but screw that, we're only looking for positive deductions from this circumstance. So...are there any positives we can draw from the situation? The answer: absolutely.

A section of muscle that is attached to the base of my palm is currently exposed, very healthy looking, and mildly disgusting. It’s soft and pink, just like you’d assume an exposed muscle would look like…totally normal thing to have on you palm. The vein and artery were attached close to my elbow. Ergo, since the piece of muscle furthest from the “hookups” is alive and healthy, the doctors and I believe the entire flap (transferred muscle) is living with a good blood supply. There is a picture on the Triton Photos that visually communicates some idea of what I’m talking about, but I’ll spare the rest of you having to see the photo.

The surgery is normally outpatient, so unless there are any major complications (knock on wood), I’ll come home Wednesday afternoon. Personally, I’m glad I don’t have to spend another minute in a hospital bed; although, my couch is starting more and more like a large, tasty treat for a bonfire at the farm each time I clock in for my daily session. I’m starting to feel like I’m logging in more hours on a weekly basis than most of us (well, “most of us” referring to the particular group of my friends) did in college on the couch…studying, of course... At least I’m not stuck watching a vintage wooden furniture TV with the picture always tinted green.

I’ll write back Wednesday when I’m barely coherent and in terrible shape to write anything informative or respectable. It should be entertaining.

CP

PS If you’re thinking about how bad or unlucky this additional surgery might be, please know that I really don’t give a damn about it. This is the inconvenient stuff, not the serious stuff. I’ve got my attention and energy focused on the real issues and getting successfully through them.

CP3 Unplugged

The drainage bulbs are gone. The stitches in my back are gone. Some of the staples are gone. That part of the check up today was great...and I mean great. It was really starting to hurt just sitting up or laying down. That pain is completely gone.

I'll return next Friday to meet with the surgeon and discuss the skin graft. Parts look good, parts look suspect, and some parts look bad. What does this mean? There is a highly probable chance that I'll have to have some more grafting. As long as the flap (muscle transfer) is healthy, having a little grafting isn't a big deal to me at all, just part of the process. A process that will also inevitably include both some cosmetic and functionality surgeries as well over the next year. Again, I'm not worried, just realistic about it being part of what I have to do.

That's about it. I'll check in if anything fun and exciting happens (let's hope not) or after next weeks appointment. On a closing note, I saw Rocky Balboa last night with Ashley. It was surprising good to both of us and I'd recommend it. At one point Rocky said something in and inspirational speech that really touched me on several levels. It actually made me break down.

"It's not about how hard you hit, but how hard you can get hit, stand up, and move forward."

I fell like I've been hit over and over, but am still standing strong, and most definitely moving forward.

I guess Roc is my new spiritual leader. Yo Adrienne...Hummmmmmmm.....Hummmmmmmm.

Love,

CP

(Newer Triton Photos)

Fever Dog

Just got back from the Emergency Room at Duke. I've been dealing with a low-grade fever (100-101) for the past few days and controlling it with simple Tylenol. This morning, it started around 101.4 and after some Tylenol and an hour it was close to 102 so we talked to our folks in Durham and they told us to come on over...so Ash and I jumped in the car.

Other than having to be bothered with going to the ER, everything couldn't have gone better. I had broken the fever when I got there, looking a bit like McGehee after a wedding reception. They still took blood, did a few tests, and had the plastics team look at my arm, leg, and back. Everything looked normal...blood, arm, leg, graft, flap, back, gross drainage grenades, everything. I even got to see my surgeon and speak to him, which is somewhat impossible. He was happy with my progress.

So...a little scare turned into alot of worries dismissed and questions answered, and it only took a few hours to get through the entire process.

I'll go back Wednesday for my formal appointment, but at least I can relax, knowing everything is going well until then.

Acuna Matata