Since last I posted, Sarcoma L. Jackson has been forcibly removed from Travis’ body. The surgery was on Thursday, August 8th and it lasted around 7 hours. Life has been ‘upside down’ since that day. I have been working on this post for 3 weeks because life in any facility that involves nursing has continuous interruptions, it’s how it has to be to care for the needs of the patient.
That said, this post will require an abundance of passive voice which will give me a low score on the readability analytics that grades my writing for this blog. Hahaha. In full knowledge of my low ‘grade’, I present to you my brief reflection of the events on August 8, 2024.
6:00AM Arrival
On surgery day we arrived at the hospital around 6:00AM. Our amazing pastor was already there waiting for us in the main lobby of the hospital. I helped Travis check-in and paid the highest co-pay that I have yet to pay for medical care. Maybe five minutes in the waiting area, they were calling for Travis to go to pre-op. We had a prayer with our pastor and then he was taken away.
I was called back a short time later and spent time with Travis in the prep area prior to the O.R. team giving him an epidural. Anxiety, nervousness, fear, second thoughts all traveled through our minds. We prayed and held hands and suddenly the surgeon appeared with nurses and anesthesiologists. It was time for one last hug and kiss and I left Travis to return to the waiting area.
My parents arrived while I was with Travis and it was wonderful to see them settled in, talking with the pastor and my deacon from church. Tropical Storm Debby was passing through the Commonwealth and we occasionally noticed it when we looked out the 5th floor windows of the Gateway building.
If I am remembering correctly, it was late in the 7:00 hour when I left Travis in the pre-op room. Inserting the epidural is a sterile procedure and I was asked to leave. I’m glad that they asked me to leave, Travis later described how it felt and I don’t want to witness that procedure anytime soon. I sat in the waiting room with my amazing crew of support and the text messages, which were little crumbs of information, began.
Text updates begin.
The first message reads, “The patient is doing well. The case has started.” The time stamp on that is 10:17am. I do not know what was happening for the two hours between my leaving Travis and receiving that text. I assume it was all preparation for the operating room and the team going through the plan for the procedure.
The next message reads, “Hello, procedure is still going as planned. Patient is doing well”. This arrived at 12:30, which makes 5-6 hours of sitting in the waiting room with the most wonderful people on earth. At this point, my stomach is ready for some nourishment. My parents were also ready to go find something to eat so off we went in the search of Chick-fil-A.
Anyone who has visited VCU Health in downtown Richmond will understand the adventure on which we embarked. The downtown campus is a conglomeration of several buildings all connected into a confusing maze for people who are not there everyday. Thankfully, a fellow person in the waiting area had just returned from his lunch to give us a bit of direction. We quickly found the cafeteria/food court in the main hospital. Sadly, we were landing there at the same time as most of the people in the hospital. Our wait to order and get our food was actually less than 10 minutes. The more difficult task, finding an open table for three people.
Once we found a table, the three of us enjoyed our lunch with a view out the first floor windows facing Marshall Street. We could see the ‘Egyptian building’ and the Monumental Church that VCU purchased many years ago. My father regaled us with a story about the community protesting the destruction of those buildings as soon as the caution tape appeared at the site in preparation for demolition. Long story short; the pharmacy building, that his company was contracted to build, was built on the opposite side of the hospital. As my college friends like to tease, “Virginia, it’s so historic!”.
It was a nice distraction to hear that story during lunch. Afterward, we returned to the 5th floor of the Gateway building to sit in the waiting room again. At 2:20 the next text arrived with the same message as the 12:30 text, “Hello, the procedure is still going as planned. Patient is doing well”.
Pause for Prayer.
The pastor from our church had a plan that we pause every hour and join hands to pray. He led each prayer and offered that anyone could add onto his prayer. My mother always added in all the people who were in surgery and their loved ones who were waiting with us. In between prayers, we took time to listen and tell stories with one another. It very much helped the time tick by quickly.
Another text message arrived at 4:09, approximately 8 hours in the waiting room now, praying that it will be the final message. The message reads “Hello, The tumor is out and the case continues. Patient is doing well.” This is when I realize that they still have to put in the steel plate and close up the surgical site. However, the main reason for the surgery is achieved. Sarcoma L. Jackson has been evicted! Travis’ parents arrived during this hour and joined into the story telling and prayer circle.
We praised God for the surgical team accomplishing the main goal of this surgery and I prayed that they have enough strength to continue their good work. The rain and the wind picked up outside and the flags on the government buildings down the street stood straight, snapping in the strong winds. Now we wait for the word that it is finished. Late in the 5:00 hour, Dr. Domson appeared though the door where they had wheeled Travis about 10 hours prior. Dressed in fresh scrubs and looking exhausted, he came to collect me for a post-op conference. He said that anyone I wanted with me could also come so the four of us; my parents, my pastor and me, followed him to a ‘very wee’ conference room.
Meeting with the surgeon.
During the meeting we learned that the tumor was very difficult to remove. The surgeon struggled to peel it away from the vein and artery leading to the leg and it had pressed against the lymph nodes so he removed those as well. He was confident of the clean margins with the bone; however, the sarcoma ‘leaked’ into the area as it was removed, which means radiation treatment will likely have to happen. The lymph nodes were sent off to pathology to be tested but we have not heard anything about that as of now.
We were given time to ask questions and I remembered to remind the doctor that Travis needs a CT scan while he is in the hospital. He typed out the text message immediately and asked if we had anymore questions. We all sat silently for a few seconds and then I gave my thanks to him.
The doctor walked us back to the waiting room door and my Mom was so overjoyed that the surgery was finished, she stopped in the hallway to give me a huge hug before we got to the waiting room. I recall catching a glimpse of the doctor, a smile broke through his exhaustion and he gently touched my mother’s shoulder. What a lovely moment.
The next few minutes were pretty much a blur. Our pastor had to head home, after his 12 hour day. Soon after, my parents left to drive over an hour back home. I was talking with my sister who lives in Oregon when they gave me their ‘goodbye’ hugs. When I ended that call, my immediate family knew the surgery had finished and I sat in the waiting room alone.
All by myself but not alone.
I looked into the gloom of the storm raging outside the window and praised God for such a glorious day. My thoughts traveled to the people who had been in the room with me and I prayed that they were safe in their travels. The aches in my body became apparent and I walked around the room waiting for word that I could see my husband.
The final text landed at 6:11 PM reading, “Patient is now out of the OR/Recovery and is being transferred to .” Yep! That is exactly what the text says. In musical terms this is like singing an entire tune and stopping before the last note. Ahhhhh! I took a picture of the procedures screen, this is all that remained of the two screens that continually scrolled during the day. Procedure number 1188000 is the one I scanned for all day.
Sometime in the 7:00 hour my phone rings and I see a number that I don’t recognize. The voice on the other end asked if I was still in the building and I answered ‘Yes! The 5th floor waiting room’. It was a post-op nurse calling to collect me so I could see Travis. Finally, 12 hours later I see my husband in a much different condition than when I left him. His eyes struggled to stay open and his normal baritone voice range was sounding very bass. A lovely sight and lovely sound even though it was not the norm.
We were there for about an hour when the call came that a room was available. My favorite moment from Travis during our wait was his response to my question “How do you feel?”, he growled and said ‘Roy Kent’ and I once again laughed at my husband’s humor.
Moving on up!
Soon we were rolling Travis up to the 11th floor of the main hospital to the Orthopaedic surgical recovery wing. This is when I realize that I will not get home to feed the cats anytime soon and our amazing friends William & Tammy agreed with very short notice to stop by the house to feed the ‘furbabies’! That was a worry removed. I stayed with Travis until he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep. I gave him a kiss goodbye with a promise to return tomorrow.
Heading home.
Time to find out how to get my car which I had left with the valet at 6:00AM. At 10:30PM there was one person waiting for anyone like me. She took me on a hike through three hospital buildings and out to the parking deck. The rain had stopped and the warm, humid wind was still blowing from tropical storm Debby as we approached my Tiguan. She clicked the unlock button for me and stayed long enough to see that my car would start and we waved goodbye. I sat in my car for a moment and asked God to help me get home safe and sound. My overwhelming feelings were gratitude and doubt, driving my car felt strange.
As I drove closer to home, the wind and rain picked up and, in the dark. To my annoyance, other drivers seemed to drive less cautious than me. Finally, I arrived home! I greeted the cats and sat in the Lazy Boy recliner. That is the moment I finally realized the exhaustion I was feeling and I just gave into it. I didn’t make it to the bedroom for several hours and I had a most glorious nap with an orange tabby cat on my lap. Thank God for pets who comfort us!
My comfort cats
That brings me to the end of the longest day of my life thus far. Thanks for going on the journey with me. Keep up the prayers because the hard part now begins, the road to recovery! More learning to come.