Month: July 2013

I’m going to be honest: it’s really pretty gross.

Don’t scroll down and don’t read this post if you are easily grossed out. This is about my wrist, which was the “donor” spot for the material that was used to reconstruct my tongue after the tumor was removed.

The irony, of course, is that a major portion of that tongue reconstruction was lost due to the infection I suffered post-surgery in the hospital. The fact that I have retained a fully functional if somewhat truncated tongue is mostly attributable to my obstinacy and linguistic obsession, so-to-speak. At least one portion of the reconstruction I literally swallowed one day, hardly noticing it, after the second surgery cut it off and left it like a hanging useless bit with nothing to do. I think of my original forearm-sourced donor flesh, only about 10% remains at the root of my tongue – unless I have misunderstood the doctors.

Those same doctors insist, however, that the transplantation, though not entirely successful, was still utterly necessary – as it gave my tongue a critical period when I could “retrain” it to stay straight and forward-pointed in my mouth. Otherwise, it may have healed curled into a knot at the back of my mouth and I would have lost a major portion of my function. I’m inclined to give the whole thing the benefit of the doubt, but recovering my forearm functionality is now a major obsession of mine.

My wrist seems to be healing well, though. Last night, I slept with no bandage on it, for the first time. I woke up with a sprinkling of scab-detritus around me but the wound itself remained solidly closed and fine. I’ve had no infection problems whatsoever at the wrist spot, and it causes only minor discomfort, more due to the severed nerves than due to any actual pain.

But looking at it is difficult. I may never feel entirely comfortable with it out in public – as Andrew remarked while I was still in the hospital, it looks like a small but vicious sharkbite scar.

Frankly, I think it looks like I received an implant made of Canadian bacon in my wrist, that was then crafted through clever scarification to look like a helium balloon floating away in the air. When I look at it, I think of ham.

I slept a solid, uninterrupted 8 hour night. First time since diagnosis.

'Nuff said.

Well, it turned out the estimate I posted before was radically wrong. Curt’s report to me, sometime back, that the running total was 40,000,000 won ($40,000) was based on a misunderstanding on his part.

The bill, yesterday, was so affordable as to be mind-blowing. Like any medical bill, it’s hard to understand – further complicated by the fact of it being in Korean. I have placed the important figures in colored ovals in the scan below, in the upper right quadrant.

The pre-insurance total (red oval) was 10,807,626 원 ($9700 at current exchange). That’s what I was expecting to pay after insurance. And the after insurance total (green oval) was 2,806,960 원 ($2500).

This is just mind-numbing. Why does healthcare cost so much in the US? It’s not like they were using substandard equipment, here, with me. It’s not like Korean doctors are underpaid – they all drive BMWs. It’s not like Korean taxes are impossibly high – they’re lower than in the US. I guess I’ll go on a more detailed rant about this, another time. But for now, just consider: 23 days of hospitalization, over 10 hours of Operating Room time, 46 hours of ICU time, uncountable doctor visits, 2 PET scans, CT scans, an initial radiation treatment, MRI. All in that bill.

I love Korea.

The yellow oval for 90원 (8 cents) deserves its own blog entry – it’s a very funny story. I’ll write it up later.

Just like in the hospital, I woke up at 4:30 am, wide awake, too hungry to go back to sleep.

I lay in bed for a few minutes, and then said, well my body's hungry. That's a good thing.

So I got up, got some yogurt. Just like in the hospital. But now I'm having some tea, too, and I have the freedom to turn on my computer and gaze out at the world.

I will nap later – I promise. Meanwhile, hello world.

i went to my “practice” radiation session today. they tested their gadgets on me but also prepared my restraint system. a set of customized plastic molds were prepared shaped to my head and torso.

when strapped down inside them, i have zero freedom of movement. ZERO. i can only breathe. i cant twitch. i cant open my eyes. i cant turn my neck even a millimeter. i cant swallow or flex my tongue.

just breathe.

machines hum. the automated table moves me in and out of the ring-o-xray-zappers. doctors and technicians talk.

breathe in. breathe out. my training in meditation is the most useful skill ive ever acquired.

when they unstrapped me the doctor grinned. “you passed. you got your license.” he said i did perfect.

hospital life has many small rituals. every morning i weigh myself and record the result in the log by the scale.

since check in until now i have lost slightly over 7 kilos – thats 15 pounds in just over 3 weeks. although its a bit expensive, i can highly recommend cancer as a great, reliable way to drop those pesky extra pounds. try it today!

i was just sitting here, after dinner, dozing, and a sudden, strange, poking sensation just above my right thumbnail manifested. like two ants doing a pair of coordinated pirouettes in that spot. *dink* *dink*

and with that, as if a switch had been flipped, feeling (touch) sensation was restored to a broad swathe of skin stretching up the inside of my thumb and along the soft part of the outside of my thumb. its not painful at all, just a bit tingly then as if completely normal.

is that how nerves work?

as an outcome of my major surgery, the extraction of flesh from my right forearm had removed or damaged some nerves leading to my thumb, so since then my entire thumb has been numb and with some limits on full movement too. this sudden development doesnt restore everything. . . a little more than half is still missing. but its interesting and weird and hopeful how a large area of sensation "pops" back like that.