Tuesday, September 28 was day four of my visit in the Clinica de Hospital. I began dreaming of how wonderful the hospital breakfast would taste as it was wheeled down the hall and delivered to everyone else. I only had 15 hours sleep since being admitted, and counting the two days at home before admission I was growing weak without eating and drinking for 6 days. Because of the horrendous constant pain, I hardly noticed the hunger pangs. Ice chips would have been nice but were not offered. My only complaint during this entire 9 day stay would be bring on the ice chips. The doctors checked with me every morning and evening, and this morning they had ordered a tomography. The test was quick and I was more than happy to drink the two cups of contrast medium down. It was the absolute best barium and iodine I had ever enjoyed. I highly reccommend it if you have completely food and liquid fasted for 6 days and nights.
Pain PaIN PAIN!!!!!! I could not tolerate it. Medievel torture may come close to describing it. The constant stabbing from the side and back of my upper abdomen made every move agonizing, every position sitting or standing unbearable. That afternoon, Dr. A, my English speaking Urologist explained my test results. The collection was a 10 cm mass on my kidney. It was blocking half my large intestine, and they recommended a further test involving a puncture to obtain a biopsy. He explained the possible results ranging from a cyst to a malignant tumor. I refused to allow that word to even be considered. I seriously explained to everyone it was not allowed to be mentioned, because I did not want to speak it into existence. My dear, amazing Mommy in Pennsylvania was so worried she hadn't been eating or sleeping either. Thank you to her wonderful partner Carl who had the wisdom to have a doctor prescribe her anti-anxiety medication. As for my Daddy in Ecuador, he planned to immediately fly in to see me. His concern for me elevated his blood pressure and along with the headaches, his doctor recommended he not travel. Both my parents expressed feelings of helpless and fear. It was the first time I felt afraid through this process. Knowing my parents, my pillars of strength, my mentors, my caregivers and creators were terrified, was my low point. I cried so long and hard, from this mental anguish and physical pain I was given the highest allowed dose of morphine. I slept two hours before I was in pain again. I remember asking God several times if my life was really meant to continue. About that moment he would send a bird singing to me, or a child laughing down the hall, or a staff member with a smile coming to see how I was. My sleep deprived and distraught husband and I hardly slept that night. I began to look forward to the procedure tomorrow, even with my surgery phobia. Just a puncture. It did not even sound good.