Anything I Can Do To Help

There was some small sense of nostalgia last week when I returned to Marin General Hospital. Five months after my first surgery to remove a carcinoid tumor, I was back in the fourth floor recovery ward — this time as a visitor.

Some of the same nurses who took care of me during my recovery were now tending to my father, who had just undergone surgery to remove a benign mass from his colon.

This isn't the kind of father-son bonding experience we saw on The Donna Reed Show, but it is something we can smile about now. He got home in time for Easter Sunday, which we spent sitting together, talking about his recovery and watching Monty Python's Not the Messiah, He's a Very Naughty Boy.

I hoped my experiences with cancer might somehow help other cancer patients, but more importantly now I can help my father with his own recovery. Actually, it's a little odd to trade places with my dad: Now I'm the concerned family member and he's the patient.

I told myself and my mother before my dad went into surgery that there was nothing to worry about and he was going to be fine. I never doubted that, but it didn't make life any easier. I finally broke down, emotionally exhausted, while I waited for word from the doctors. It's hard enough being the patient, but it's just as hard watching a family member go through something like this.

I spent as much time as I could with my dad before his surgery. We started work on a wooden table, but we'll have to finish it later. Three days of a liquid diet left my dad kind of tired before the big day and he was ready to just get the surgery over with. I was starting to feel anxious the morning of his surgery, worrying about my dad and mom.

Fortunately, everything went fine in the operating room. The real hard part came afterward. I had the best care from the nurses in the ward after my surgery, for which I will be eternally grateful. I was glad to see them again, this time checking in on my father.

After a few days in the hospital, however, everyone gets a little cranky and starts plotting an escape. Once I was up and walking about the hallways on my own, I was ready to make a break for the elevators and catch the first bus home. I knew my dad was feeling the same way, but without pants he wasn't going anywhere.

My mother seemed much more relaxed once we were all home for Easter. My dad could sit in his chair and read his books, while she didn't have to worry about entertaining him.

My advice for my dad (and anyone else in a similar situation) now that he's home is to just take it one step at a time — literally. After abdominal surgery like that, it's hard to walk very quickly even though you might want to go for a hike. Even eating can be difficult. Ever since my surgery, I haven't been able to eat nearly as much at mealtime and I have to make sure I eat small bites and slowly, lest I start choking.

Going to the hospital has been a major part of my family's routine for the past five months and we've all had just about enough of waiting rooms, cold hallways and invasive exams.

The good news, however, is we're all still together and getting better.

Carcinoid Cancer Awareness Network