I was mistaken about the location of the cancer. This is the correct place.
When I came back from the operating room, I was a bundle of pain. I had a tube in my throat which caused me to keep my mouth open during the operation--my tongue became swollen, and completely dry, so I could barely talk. My abdomen was all stitched up, and had that awful feeling--like doing ab crunches to the point of exhaustion, and then doing a hundred more! For a moment, I wanted to escape from my painful prison.
My partner of many years was there to watch over me. He would bring my water to me so I could sip through a straw. I wasn't allowed to drink---just enough to wet my mouth. I was so afraid of the walls of my throat sticking together--I had to be careful during the first hours, to keep my throat moist, somehow. I had to watch out for myself.
My partner asked if I wanted him to stay all night--I hesitated, because he had work the next morning (until 2 in the afternoon). But when I saw how weak I had become, I had no choice. He said he didn't mind at all. So all evening long, and all night long, he watched over me, giving me water, raising or lowering the bed angle, etc. From the corner of my eye, I could see him. That whole night long, his bed was the little folding chair in the corner.
All through the night, I had access to morphine, but it was never enough to block out the pain.
At 7 in the morning, my partner left for work. It was just the time that the nurses started regularly coming into my room, so I could ask them to help me. 2 hours later, they forced me to stand up, so I could go over to weigh myself. But the morphine had made me dizzy and nauseous, and every step was torture--my empty stomach was trying to regurgitate, but it couldn't. I broke out in an ice-cold sweat. I felt as if I were in hell!
After that, I began to improve, and that afternoon, I started slowly walking through the corridors of the hospital. And they removed the tube from my throat. But my throat is still rough and dry, even now. I guess it will take time to heal.
At about 5:30, my partner came back for another visit. At 6:30, I sent him home to get the good night's sleep he was lacking.
My wi-fi was still working, so I was always checking my e-mail. Words of encouragement, love and help were pouring into my address from Friends of Animan from all over the world! And the words were filled with love and goodness; they were healing me.
I will always be very thankful and grateful to those kind friends who took a moment from their busy day, to send Animan (me) a word of encouragement and healing. And I'll be forever thankful to the guy who uncomplainingly spent that first long, angst-ridden night in the little folding chair in the corner.
