The Sexiest Emergency Room in America

September 28, 2018 - One year ago today I was wheeled into an operating room and a cancerous left tonsil and 37 lymph nodes were removed from my throat and neck.

As that bit of aggressive but skillful surgery eliminated all the detectable cancer in my body, that is pretty much where my cancer battle ended (to be fair, my doctor, the one who did the surgery, will say we aren't completely out of the woods until five cancer-free years have passed, but you know what I mean.) One year later, I remain thrilled with a "pinch myself" lucky feeling.

A year ago today, then, is when my recovery began. And overall, it has been a good one. I am back to all of the activities I enjoyed pre-diagnosis. My lifestyle has changed only slightly, in that it has become just a bit healthier: I limit my sugar intake (cancer cells love sugar), eat less meat and drink less alcohol. Not difficult, as I hadn't been consuming any of these in large quantities in a long time anyway. And I have added things like golden milk and matcha to my diet. They're tasty, so it isn't exactly a chore.

The two most "difficult" situations were healing my throat and rehabbing my left shoulder after surgery damaged several nerves leading to it, causing it to atrophy dramatically. Thankfully, both of those include stories that I look back on fondly and sometimes with a hearty laugh.

Let's start with my throat.

When they took out my tonsil they took a whole lot of surrounding tissue with it. This left a cavernous hole in my throat, one that created significant risk of aspiration - getting fluid, or food even, into my lungs - so I was outfitted with a tube up my right nostril, down my throat and into my stomach. I could ingest nothing by mouth, including and especially water, for 10 days after surgery while my throat healed enough to limit the risk.

This tube provided all the fluid and nutrition I needed, which is good. But I had a very difficult time sleeping with it in. I would lay propped up on the couch. I would begin to doze. My body would relax. The tube would irritate my throat. I would begin to cough or gag. I would wake up.

For those 10 days, I averaged two or three hours of sleep a night.

Additionally, with the cutting of tissue and damaging of nerves, followed by complete shut-down of use of the throat for 10 days, the body reacts. I liken it to a collapse in a mine shaft. They shut the mine down for a while and dig out the debris. Who knows what to expect when the mine reopens?

My surgeon knew, generally, and after he had pulled out the tube he warned me that eating and drinking were going to be a challenge. "For a while," he said, "especially drinking and especially water." When asked why water, the one thing I was most looking forward to drinking, he stated the obvious. "It has no body, it goes everywhere. If you aren't careful, it will go right into your lungs. Have some applesauce instead."

One last detail. The night before tube removal, we had a miscommunication with one of the medical offices. We were told I wasn't to have any fluids - even via the tube - after 10PM. My last "feeding" was at about 8PM. I hadn't gotten any fluid into my body since, and now it was early afternoon of the next day. Thirsty is an understatement.

So we bought applesauce on the way home from having my feeding tube removed, along with coconut milk for making the smoothies from Daily Harvest that my workmates had so generously ordered and had been waiting for me in the freezer.

In the cool calmness of our kitchen we whipped up a smoothie. It looked so inviting, all green and slushy and wet. I put a small spoonful in my mouth, moving it to the back of my throat, where it lodged itself in the hole created by a radical tonsillectomy.

I could not swallow it. I tried and tried but it wouldn't go down. It just sat there instead, irritating the rough flesh and eventually making me gag. Out it came.

OK. No problem. Let's try applesauce, just like the doctor ordered.

Same result. The thick substance felt like wet cement against my throat as it refused to go down.

The doctor said it would not be easy I said to myself as I tried to stifle the rising thirst, hunger, fear and pain.

Ah, yes, the pain. Maybe if we dealt with that I will be able to swallow. I measured out a dose of liquid painkiller and knocked it back. The viscous liquid slithered down my throat, burning like the bejeesus as it passed the raw flesh. Success! Sort of.

I decided to lay down while the pain med took effect.

Oh my, the joy of laying flat, in my own bed, for the first time in well over a week! So calming, so comforting. I dozed off quickly, my body and mind starving for rest.

Rest was short-lived, as about an hour later I began to wake - only it was a half-waking. I opened my eyes and for several minutes didn't know where I was. As my head slowly cleared it came back to me. So did my thirst, only now it was worse. My mouth was dry as the desert and scratchy like sandpaper.

Back to the kitchen and the smoothie. Nope. Stuck in my throat. Applesauce, same thing. Water? Forget it.

We called my doctor, but couldn't reach him. I left him a message about my problem and asked him to call back, but as I hung up I just knew he wasn't going to get it anytime soon. It was late in the day on a Friday.

And then I started to grow light-headed. My heart began to pound and the room began to pitch. I sat down, feeling like I was about to pass out. I began to panic. I was very afraid about losing consciousness. Passing out just seemed like a really bad thing to do.

I asked Marissa to call 911.

During her first attempt, she got disconnected. She tried again and got through. Two minutes later there were six Emergency Medical Technicians in our tiny little condo, hooking me up to monitors and calmly asking me questions.

Just as they were confirming that my blood pressure was extremely high, a policeman walked in. He wanted to know why we had disconnected our 911 call. He was being the bad cop, only he had forgotten to bring the good cop with him, and he was interrogating my wife while six EMTs were taking my vital signs and asking about my medications. He finally looked around and asked what was going on.

Thankfully, as Marissa and I were both shouting in our heads "What does it look like is going on?!" one of the EMTs pulled the cop aside and calmly explained the situation. After the cop left, they put a question to me - off to the emergency room?

While their professionalism and confidence had calmed me, I still felt bone dry, weak and sure that I would not be able to get anything past the gaping wound we were still calling my throat. Off to the emergency room we went.

Once I was taken away, Marissa began to lose it a little. The remaining EMTs calmed her, saying "Hey, he's going to be fine,  you just worry about you..." She said she was starving, tears pooling in her eyes. "Take time to eat something, he will be fine. He is in good hands." They calmed her before going on their way, but all she could muster were a few crackers before leaving herself.

Upon arrival at the hospital I was wheeled into a small room with a bed, enclosed by a curtain. It was quiet and calm.  A young, fit Asian man was standing at a screen and he took my details after instructing me authoritatively to lay on the bed. He was professional and efficient and slightly effeminate. He took a number of blood samples, which he quickly whisked away.

Marissa had joined me by then, and sat against the wall in a daze.

Next came an attractive, petite, middle-aged woman of mixed race. Alternately engaging, self-effacing, facetious and flirty, she spoke with a rhythm that suggested she had said these words a million times but wanted each time to be as meaningful as the last. It was definitely a shtick, but a sincere one. She could have been the warm-up act for a comedian like Ali Wong. She asked a series of questions that led me to believe she was doing a bit of a psych check on me, though  I must have passed, as she wrapped things up warmly and breezily went on her merry way.

As I was contemplating the comedy act, in came the male lead and his female sidekick. She was a very pretty and very young Asian woman, with lovely dark hair and flawless skin. He was young and handsome, with thick, perfectly disheveled, sandy-blonde hair and a lush, full beard. They were both wearing scrubs, but his were special - tight, jet-black v-neck top and hot pink bottoms. He looked like he had just gotten off his surf board while she had just finished teaching a yoga class. They were golden and beautiful individually and together they were two shimmering mascots of the California Lifestyle.

"Hi. I am Dr. First Name-Second Name-Third Name," his voice as soothing as low tide at midnight,  "and this is my assistant Something-Cheerful-and-Happy. Now, tell me your story." 

I told as much of my story as I could. The feeding tube, the hole in my throat, the applesauce. He asked to look in my throat "Wow, you have quite a wound there" he said, as if complimenting me on my new Firewire Helium Evo.

"Let's see what the tests say. I will be back in a while and we will go from there. He left, his lovely Asian sidekick left and Marissa and I looked at each other.

"This is the most 'California' experience I've ever had." I said. Marissa just nodded. She looked less dazed. I assumed the last 30 minutes had had the same tranquilizing effect on her as it had on me.

Meanwhile the nice-looking and very gay seeming nurse came in and hooked me up to a drip. The tests confirmed that I was indeed quite dehydrated and they were going to give me a couple of bags of fluid.

Dr. Golden Sunshine returned, alone this time (I imagined Assistant Make the World a Better Place was busy delivering kittens to sick children.) He had gotten in touch with my doctor, who had explained the surgery and my recovery situation in detail.

"You've been through a lot, but its going to be O.K." I swear I heard music as he said this, perhaps a lone acoustic guitar? "Let's get some fluid in you and then how about we try again to get some applesauce down." He stated it as a question, but in a tone that implied ultimate confidence that I would indeed get it down. The sun was out, the surf was in, everyone was healthy and anything was possible. I could feel it.

Over the next 90 minutes I finished two bags of fluid, feeling better and better by the minute. Marissa and I chatted, the color coming back to both of our faces. I felt more rested than I had in several days.

On cue, Dr. Beach Bonfire at Sunset came back into the room. carrying a small cup of applesauce and a plastic spoon. He opened it up and handed it my way with a smile that said, "you can do this, man, you can do this."

And I could. In small, small, small bits I took the applesauce into my mouth and managed to swallow it, until I had finished the whole packet. Dr. Blonde and Tan-but-not-too-Tan rose quietly and gave me a "good job" and a handshake. Then he left the scene, quietly and coolly, like the marine layer dissipating in the warmth of the late-morning sun.

Time to go home. 

We were both quiet on the way, until Marissa declared "I am really starving. I know you want to get home but your caregiver has to eat before she needs care of her own. Let's stop at the teriyaki shop downtown."

She pulled up to the curb outside the shop and went in while I waited in the car. And, as if written in for the season finale, guess who comes in for teriyaki just after her? The team of paramedics who only a few hours earlier had been in our house saving my life.

"Hey there, how are you? Doing OK? How's your husband?" Upon hearing that I was outside a couple of them came to the car to say hello. "How are you doing sir? Did you get some fluids? Were you able to swallow some food? Great! Glad to hear it. If you need anything or have any questions, you know how to reach us..." This time my eyes were wet as I thanked them and we laughed about the comforting power of teriyaki.

And inside the shop, Marissa called out to the cook and the cashier, "You take care of these men, they do good work!"

It was the perfect ending to our little episode. One that I am sure would have clinched an Emmy. And as the credits rolled I could be seen in the background as I woke up early the next morning and drank all of Marissa's leftover miso soup - and even a little bit of water.