The Hole Within

CHAPTER 65

I dreaded my three-month follow-up with the doctor. I still had not put on weight and I felt like shit all the time. I was deeply depressed after being sick for nearly three and a half years. My life was not about living, it was about existing. I had not the energy to do much of anything and when I forced myself to I was quickly fatigued. The doctor greeted us with the worst news. Not only had my cavity gotten bigger, it has gotten significantly bigger. All I could do was cry as Mel sat stunned beside me. He told us that we had two options, a year-long round of chemotherapy or surgery to remove the lobe of diseased lung. I could not bear the thought of a year of chemo. It was an easy decision for me; surgery. He warned that the surgery could have the harmful effect of causing the fungus to spread. I did not care. I would rather die than continue to live like this. After consulting with a surgeon, where, again I sobbed throughout the appointment, surgery was scheduled. I was to go through another six months of chemo afterward to eradicate any fungus that was left over.

Mel and I found at a tattoo shop that we liked, the artist I chose did beautiful work. I searched through magazines and books and found a picture of two koi fish forming a circle, one's head to the others tail. Then I found a kanji which meant health and wellness. I asked the artist to put the kanji in the middle of the circle in black and do the fish in color. After some consideration, I chose to have the tattoo done on my left inner wrist so that I could constantly see it. The artist did a beautiful job, the top fish was blue and the bottom was orange. I was surprised that it did not hurt as badly as I thought it would, it being done in such a delicate place. It was my shield against illness that ravished me. I thought of it as a talisman of protection.

The day of my surgery came. I had barely slept for excitement and anticipation. I was finally taking definitive action. I was getting rid of the cavity that caused me so much suffering. Mel was more worried, fearing that something would go wrong during the surgery. We left for the hospital early in the morning as I was scheduled for surgery at six a.m. but had to be there three hours early. My body was alive with anxiety. started an IV and prepped me. The injection of Valium the anesthesiologist gave me did absolutely nothing to calm my nerves. Finally, they came to get me and Mel told me that she loved me and she would see me on the other side. I inwardly said goodbye to her, resigned to the fact that I might die on the operating table but not fearing it. The operating room was freezing. I was assisted on to a narrow table. My arms were outstretched and placed on a swing out boards. It was as if I were being crucified. Trays of equipment surrounded the bed and the gowned and masked nurses worked quickly. My legs were strapped down, my chest was strapped down, as was each of my arms. A piece of tape was run over my forehead. I was started on oxygen via an oxygen mask. I looked around the room and my heart hammered. The anesthesiologist entered and asked everyone if we were ready to begin. There were murmurs of ascent and he moved next to me, gloved hands clasped at his chest. "I'm going to give you some medicine and I want you to count backwards from one hundred." Funny, I thought, counting backwards gave me more anxiety than the surgery as I was afraid of making a mistake. He produced a large syringe from the table. It was full of pure white opaque medication, kind of like thin milk. As he injected it into my IV I began to count. I watched the medicine go in and remembered getting to ninety-five before I slipped away into blackness.

Please insert more of what you are feeling. Dread, fear, relief, hope?

It's a pivital moment and you want the readers to be there, in the moment. Feeling what you feel.