Meso what???

The last 24 hours have been a little wild with plenty of ups and downs but overall things could not be going much better given the circumstances.

Erin and I were up and at it well before the sun yesterday.  For the second time in two weeks we found our way to the surgery unit.  After fully disrobing and donning a teasingly small gown I met Dale who had been sent to "shave your chest." Just when I thought we were hitting things off Dale finished the task at hand and excused himself from the room.
Up next was anesthesia, administered by one of my fellow Maine Medical Residents.  Come to find out being friends with your anesthesiologist is a very underrated perk.  My "gas man" told that he would be putting in an epidural, but assured me that I would "feel real good."  After offering a quick goodbye to Erin I was wheeled back and given a hefty IV dose of something that was similar in both name and efficacy to moonshine.  The last thing I remember is remarking that the operating room "looked really fancy" and that "I don't have any pants on."

I woke about 5 hours later with a 12" incision down the middle of my abdomen, a foley catheter, and a crowd of concerned anesthesiologists.
The surgery did not go as planned, which may actually turn out to be a good thing.  What I've learned over the past few weeks is that the world of oncology is painted thick with frustrating shades of gray.  The surgeon was anticipating a cancer starting from my appendix.  Now she thinks I have a mesothelioma  that started in my pelvis.  This is apparently the same type of tumor that old men get from asbestos exposure, only this typically occurs in their lungs.  Instead of giving me the heated "shake and bake" my surgeon decided to "debulk" my tumor and then sewed me back up.  We now await the results of the pathology studies.  Best case scenario would mean no more surgery and no chemo, worst case scenario begins to open Pandora's box of not so pleasant medical treatments.  So my operation shrunk from 6 hours to 2 hours.  I spent most of yesterday afternoon receiving insane amounts of morphine and after 4 attempts I left with an epidural hanging from my back, just like women get when in labor.
Yesterday afternoon involved even higher doses of narcotics interspersed with failed attempts to make coherent calls to family and friends.  Sometime around midnight my foley catheter decided to stop draining, which was far from ideal.
This morning involved a predawn wakeup for bloodwork, more fun with foley catheters, and a diet full of sprite and jello.  Currently I'm in a bit of a holding pattern as I rest up, let my wound heal and await the final pathology report which will determine whether I need chemo or possibly a more aggressive surgery.

Lessons Learned:
1. You do not want a Foley catheter into your bladder.
2. If you ever undergo general anesthesia be sure to document well...see below.