Intestinal Fortitude...Today's report from the Mayo Clinic (Monday, August 15, 2016)

(A Post from Bill....this is a note I sent a few minutes ago to our family about the events of Allyson's day at Mayo)

Family and Friends,

It is almost 4:30pm CST and I am sitting in Allyson’s hospital room next to Allyson – who is now resting in her room.  Omi (Allyson’s Mom) and I have been at the hospital throughout the day.  The sounds of the hospital (background noise, IV, catheter, a machine that is connected to Allyson’s shins/calves that spurts out air ~1-2 mins to avoid clotting) are mixed with Allyson’s breathing as she rests from the days events.  Allyson is now sleeping and hopefully on her journey to recovery from the trauma and toils of Tumor Mabel that thankfully was removed earlier today.

We arrived at the Mayo’s St. Mary’s campus in Rochester, MN early this morning for admission at 6:45am.   Allyson was escorted into a personal prep room where she met with an admissions nurse, an IV nurse (who must have needed her coffee because she wanted to get the IV in record time), the pharmacy about her current meds, and we met the Hospital Chaplain who offered to connect us to our own faith leaders and who also offered a very sincere prayer on Allyson’s behalf.  After all the prelim procedures they wheeled Allyson off to the pre op at ~9am.  We were able to stay connected with the process with a nurse who was with Allyson throughout the procedure who called me to give me regular updates – she is leaving pre-op,  now in surgery, they just made an incision, etc.  I appreciated the regular updates.   Allyson procedure started at exactly 10:04am.  The Dr. finished the procedure at 12:12pm.  Allyson was in recovery until ~1:45 before they brought her to her room where Omi and I have been waiting.

The doctor performing the procedure is specialized in removing cancer cells surgically.  He has specific training in intestinal procedures and has been most gracious in helping make this as simple as possible.  When we met with him on Friday, he told Allyson that she did not need to do the whole pre-op intestinal flush that in itself is traumatizing.  He said, “I can do it without the cleanse”….” as long as you promise me you will not eat a deep dish pizza on Sunday night - not that you look like you would do that anyways.”   Allyson was elated with that news and made the evening and morning much more pleasant.     

Dr. Truty (the oncology surgeon who did the procedure) found me and Omi after the procedure and reported that everything went as planned.   They went in laproscopically to examine the small bowels and all the tissue surrounding the digestive tract.  They then proceeded to open surgery by making an an incision (~6” in length above the belly button) to physically find the tumor that was discovered in the PET Scan 3.5 weeks ago.   He removed that tumor and then laproscopically and through physical examination went through every centimeter of Allyson’s small intestine to see if any more tumors were present.  He removed a large tumor and said that it was creating an obstruction in Allyson’s bowels because their was fluid and air above the tumor and nothing below.  He said this would cause the immense pain that Allyson has been experiencing over the last several weeks.  The good news is no other large tumors were found after examining the tissue two different times  - this is in the same area where mulitiple tumors were found in December so this is further evidence that the immunology drug has been working.  The Miss Mellie tumors were working on the immunology drug – Keytruda;  we are just not sure why it has not worked on Miss Mabel – the name we have given to this newest tumor. 

In the operating room was also a pathologist that was examining tissue as the procedure was being completed.  The tumor tissue that was removed will be genetically analyzed so that a treatment plan can be modified to include Miss Mabel type cancer cells.   I expect that we will have a modified treatment plan after the genetic testing is completed.

Allyson handled the entire procedure without incident and had a routine recovery.  The anesthesiologist, at the surgeon’s request, gave Allyson an epidural so that she can manage her pain over the next few days.   We are not sure how long Allyson will be in the hospital but the thought prior to the procedure would be 4-5 days for monitoring and to make sure the small intestine connection /staple could absorb food/liquid.

Admittedly, I had a big pit in my stomach walking into this hospital today because our last experience in this hospital.  Actually, the last two experiences have been traumatizing (Gamma Knife and the Bronchoscopy that put Allyson into ICU).  I was hoping for a positive but psychologically this place honestly is quite traumatizing.  I am grateful this hospital exists but I am certainly ecstatic to leave….and will grateful to take Allyson home later this week.

Our children our home today with their cousin Joseph Udall and his special wife Lucy.  We are so grateful Joseph/Lucy are able to spend their semester break from BYU to help us this week.  I texted Ruth and Grace updates today as the events unfolded because each of our children could sense the importance of today’s events and wanted details as soon as they were available.  

Allyson continues to rest peacefully and her machines continue to buzz a quiet humm…we are grateful that everything has gone well so far and for the care she has received.   Know that we appreciate your continued support and prayers on our behalf.  Miracles continue to transpire and I am grateful to witness our Allyson valiantly push forward…..

Love

Bill

My "Streak"

There is a streak in me, a streak that I can not name.  I do not know what to call it, but it is there.  It is part humor, part mischief, and part boundary pusher.  It isn’t evil or bad, but it has a strong will.  Bill says my streak makes his life exciting.  

My streak, which I struggle to name, is what prompts me to say, “Bill pull over!  Right there at Walgreen's.”  Just a half-hour before we found out my cancer was aggressively invading my small intestine and I needed surgery to take it out.  I marched into Walgreen's and scanned the candy shelves with laser focus.  I filled my arms to overflowing: a large bag of Red Vines licorice, Kit-Kats, Raisinets, Peanut M&M’s, etc.  I barely made it to the counter before my precariously balanced candy tumbled out of my hands.  I bought it all.  I shut the car door with Bill staring at me with a look of, “what was that all about.”  I reached in and starting eating, ripping the bags open like a child on Christmas morning tearing at the wrapping paper anxious to get at the gift inside.  Cancer be damned, I was going to be on a liquid diet soon enough, so I'd better get the good stuff while I could.  I barely made it through a hundred calories worth of sugar, when I got too sick to eat it.  Well, I made a valiant effort.

After being outside for a bit too long, I got a bad sunburn.  One of my friends looked at my lobster colored arms and admonished me to be careful and to put on more sunscreen.  I looked at her, with a twinkle in my eye and replied, “Why?  What's going to happen?  Am I going to get skin cancer?”   She stood there stone faced, not knowing what to say.  I assured her it was o.k. to laugh at cancer.  I still think my joke is hilarious, my daughter thinks it is morbid.

Bill and I sat in the all too familiar oncology office waiting to meet with the surgeon who would remove the part of my small intestine that was trying to kill me.  I had read about him before I arrived for my appointment.  Like most of the Mayo doctors, he specialized, then specialized again, then again and again and again and again.  Their degrees just never stop! Well, this particular surgeon specialized in taking out melanoma and breast cancer.  I watched a YouTube video of him explaining how he is changing the way double mastectomies are performed.  Ah, I thought, I know just what I am going to ask him.  

He and his entourage entered the examination room with a whoosh of air.  One moment Bill and I were sitting still, alone in our thoughts, and the next minute I was being peppered with questions from the surgeon, with a nurse furiously taking notes, an oncologist standing off to one side adding his two cents, and another doctor in training, just hoping he could someday command the room.  After a multitude of medical back and forth, he asked me if I had any questions.  I told him, yes, in fact, I did.  I asked him if he was a boy scout?  He looked at my quizzically.  Boy scouts, I explained, are taught that when they go somewhere they should always leave it better than they found it.  He was taking something out of me, and well, shouldn’t he leave me better than he found me?  Breastfeeding  five children had left my chest saggy and small, it only seemed right that his expertise be used in both areas, my gut and my chest.  He looked at me a little stunned, his entourage looked at him not sure what to do, I started to giggle and then he broke out into a belly laugh.  “I like the way you think,“ he said.  “Keep it up.”  I was surrounded by some of the world's best doctors discussing how to save my life, at the end of the discussion my “streak” thought it only appropriate to bring up my much needed breast augmentation that I never intend to get.  

What is this streak?  I don't know, but it has made some dark days just a bit brighter and for that I am grateful.