The Good Cancer

Keep Slaying Demons

I wake up and am in a different room now. I look to my right. There is an older woman next to me. No offense to her, but she looks like a corpse. Am I in a morgue? Did I die? Am I dead? Am I still in surgery and only dreaming? Am I having one of those creepy out of body experiences? There is a man to my left. He has much more color in his skin. Maybe I'm not in a morgue after all. I'm still in the hospital.

A nurse with a warm smile greets me. She starts talking to me, but I am not able to fully understand what she is saying. How strong was the anesthesia they gave me? Then I am peeing like I never have before. It feels like I will never stop. After what seems like forever, the pressure ceases and I notice that the nurse has gone away. I close my eyes and drift back away.

I open my eyes and there is a mask covering my face. It is spitting out a light, cool substance. Is it oxygen? Am I hooked to oxygen? What in the world happened? Am I hooked up to life support? I seemed fine earlier. I peed forever, I was next to a dead lady, but I seemed fine. I couldn't really understand what the nurse was saying, but...I was fine. I was fine, right?

After my freak out moment, I notice that I am not the only one in the room. My parents are there. My grandparents are there. John Bailey is there. A man I don't recognize is also there and a nurse by his side. I think they ask me how I am doing. I open my mouth to respond and my throat is on fire. It burns like nothing I've ever experienced. It is dry and it hurts to talk. I think I manage to utter that I feel OK. That's when the nurse explains that during surgery, I had a breathing tube down my throat and that is what is making it sore. The mask is just putting out water vapor to keep moisture in the air and make my throat less dry.

The man I don't recognize makes his way towards me and starts talking. Something about his familiar though. It is his voice. I have heard that voice before, but where? Then I learn that he is one of the pastors from my church, the one who usually makes those reminder phone call things home. That would explain why I recognized his voice more than his face.

I wish I could remember the words that we exchanged, but I don't. I just remember that he took my hands and prayed with me, for me. I closed my eyes and took it all in. God was at work in this room. He had been at work the entire time since my diagnosis. He was walking by my side. He was with me right now. He would always be with me. He would help me slay my demons.

After praying, my mom handed me the remote. Again, I stumbled upon Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I was calm immediately as I escaped reality and went into Sunnydale. Everything may not be safe or perfect there, but there I am strong. There the good guys always win and the bad guys always lose. The demons always get slayed and everyone goes home happy. I just wanted to be happy.

A few hours later, a nurse tries to help me get up and walk for the first time. I felt 100% myself except for the pain in my neck and throat. I could stand up no problem. I didn't need a nurse to help me. She backs off and allowed me to stand on my own. Within seconds I am back on the bed. It was harder than I thought it would be. My legs were shaking and I became nauseated. I was going throw up. I couldn't stand. I couldn't make it to the bathroom but I was going to throw up.

The nurse brought me something I could use since I couldn't make it to the bathroom. The feeling was overwhelming. It was like my insides were in knots and about to all come up through my mouth. I clench my stomach and lean forward. It is coming. However, instead of throwing up, I let out several loud, obnoxious burps. I cover my mouth and am not really sure what to do. I know I must be blushing. My mom and I begin to laugh hysterically. It was something we both needed.

Later that night, my face itches so much I want to claw it off. My mom is in the room with me. She says it is the morphine. I try to resist the urge to scratch. However, there is another urge that is much harder to resist. About every hour, I am up and alert, taken out of my sleep. The bathroom calls my name. My bladder is burning. I don't think I have ever peed so much in my entire life. My mom had to walk me to the bathroom each time because my IV stuff was too heavy for me to drag with me and I was still weak from surgery. God bless her for the lack of sleep she must've gotten.

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