Pop’s surgery went off as smoothly as medical science will allow in the circumstances. Turns out that the wee bit of colon preserved inside of him during Surgery 1, was visibly inflamed and could turn cancerous in 10 years’ time (or earlier). It had to go.
But he’s such a positive, adaptable sort. He has reconciled to living with an external pouch that rests on the right side of his tummy (making anus defunct for life). Sounds awful I know, but there’s good news, too.
There was no incision and it was all done using a laparoscope. We viewed the entire procedure on DVD post the surgery. Colon flesh congealed shawarma-style, with the application of heat (which makes it tough to now eat a shawarma sandwich, without grotesque images of burning flesh flashing across the mind’s eye).
Also, he can eat all the spicy food he wants. He need never take any medication (oral, anal, et al) for ulcerative colitis and there’s no fear of malignancy. And since, there’s no colon, it’s the end of awkwardly painful colonoscopies.
When we returned home from the hospital, I visited two more recovering uncles. One has an amputated leg (my dad tried to console him before his surgery saying ‘If I can live sans a colon, you can live sans a leg). The other may have a tumour. Personally, I hate to see the elderly suffer. Blame it one the follies of our youth. We abuse our bodies (and I am not generalising) smoking like chimneys, drinking ourselves silly, eating crap etc.
A colleague of mine was recently complaining about the new vendor in the canteen. “It’s expensive and the quantities are so less,” she moaned.
“But the food is healthier and you may end up spending a lot less on healthcare and hospital bills in the long run, “I reasoned. She smiled and quit complaining.
Pop is yearning to get behind the steering wheel ASAP. My mother wants him to take it easy for a month. Well, good luck to her with that!
