Tag Archives: biopsy

All Messed Up & No Place to Go #8

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April 3, 2014 6:44pm: I woke up sometime around this time based on my text to Mike. “Just woke up. I feel pretty good. Still a little groggy from the Xanax.”. This is slightly amusing because I wasn’t under the influence of Xanax. I was under the influence of Valium. This is also a spotty time of my story. I was high on valium and still exhausted. I went back to sleep. Mike’s response indicated he had just turned onto I-59. I knew I had some time to rest.  I laid my head back down and came in and out of consciousness for a while longer…I think. I got up just before Mike arrived. I knew I needed to take another antibiotic. Mike walks in the back door like he has so many times before. He is quiet like a mouse…but I’m awake-ish and I “light-up” as much as I can so as to present myself in the best light possible. I spring into action to grab my meds from the kitchen. Mike asked me if he could get me anything and I remember looking around for the medicine as I declared myself to be “fine” as I shuffle through the kitchen cabinets.

It’s around 9 o’clock. Michelle and Mike and the kids catch up about this and that. I don’t really remember how the rest of the night went. I think we went to bed around midnight. Again, I slipped away into a very deep sleep. Tomorrow we leave for Pensacola.

Morning April 4, 2014: We get up kinda early and I make my rounds around the house and my car to grab the things I need for the trip. Since my bags are packed for one night with little to nothing I collect “stuff”. The last few items are in my car. Including my sunglasses, my “tub-o-gum, my penicillin…My what? At that moment I remember specifically getting up to take my meds….I never took them. I yell to Mike, “…I never took my antibiotic last night!”. He exclaims, ” I know, I was trying to tell you that…”. I was clearly “out of it”. I roll my eyes, pop a pill and jump in the car.

 Here we go. We drive about four and a half hours down to Pensacola to the Naval Air Station, Whiting Field and play at a “Change of Command” party for some very dear family friends of Mike’s family. They are like cousins to the Frazier Family. Great folks. I have had the pleasure to be included in some landmark events with the Brown family.  Mike and I played at Hank’s graduation from Annapolis and again at Annapolis for his retirement in 2013. Hank is the brother-in-law of the guest of honor. This gig is important because of the who, not the why.

We arrive a little early and set up the public address system or the PA. The ΦA is the sound system including speakers microphones, cables and all the electronics that make it sound as good as we try to make it sound. This requires a bit of heavy lifting which I have been instructed not to partake in…doctor’s orders. Mike wouldn’t let me lift anything…It was great. I had finally achieved “rockstar” status. I have  “ROADIE”. We set up pretty fast and take off to Margaritaville to catch up with my old friend Doug Ayers.  We enjoy a fresh grouper sandwich and a celebratory beach beer. The weather is a little cruddy, but at least it isn’t raining and at least it’s not hot. The gig goes great. Other than having to go to the bathroom every forty-five minutes we had a great response from the intimate crowd and play pretty well all things considered. The handful of Advil has minimized my discomfort and we had a ball. This night did not disappoint. To make things a little bit better, the guests help us carry to entire PA down to the first floor and load it back into Mike’s car. We followed the party out for a nightcap.

Morning April 5, 2014: We wake up hang with the Brown’s for a little bit and hit the road. We are in Pensacola for less than 24 hours. This will be our first back to back gigs in probably twenty years. Can our voices make it through two gigs in a row? This uncertainty adds a little to the strain of my weekend. My fingers are sore. I haven’t played in weeks. Tonight’s show is at a local restaurant in Cahaba Heights called Blackwell’s. Before the gig and after we set up we have a baseball game to attend.

The closer we get to Birmingham the worse I feel. I start to worry about infection..after all I missed a dose of medicine. I guess maybe the stress is taking its toll on me. I feel awful. We have to change strings on the guitars and set up the equipment and go to Parker’s game. I just want to lay down and I have no time. I’m anxious. I can’t sit still. But I need to…but I can’t. We quickly tune up our newly strung acoustic axes and make our way to the bar. We unload and Mike mostly sets it up while I sit and try to figure out how I can get out of this.

6;45-ish: We have spent all day driving and talking and for me, feeling kind crappy. I am wondering, “how I can pull this off?”. “Can I make it through the gig?”. I have over scheduled and I am feeling defeated. I know I need to suck it up and get over it and decide to have fun. “Suck it up Surber!”. I decide going to Parker’s game and enjoying some fresh air will take my mind off of this quandary. The ball field is only five minutes from the gig and the night air is damp and a little chilly. It is perfect. It worked. Although Parker’s team lost they played pretty well and I realize as I leave the field that I am okay. We played and we killed it! The show was even better to me because there were a few times in the day when I was trying to figure out how best to cancel it. I felt great.

It was a great weekend to have a biopsy scheduled. I didn’t have time to think about what was going on in regard to my little situation. It was a whirlwind in slow motion in the  middle of a blackout. Still, No one really knows what’s going on with me. Sunday will be my day of rest and real recovery. I can get some sleep and I don’t have anything to do. Sunday comes and goes.

I made it. I wouldn’t change a thing. The results from my biopsy will be available Wednesday. That’s only three days to get the good news…right?

 

 

Biopsy Day: Let’s Get This Party Started #7

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Thursday, April 3, 2014 1:45-ish: I head back to the back like I do every single time I have twelve small tissue samples removed from my prostate. Proud, tall and loosey-goosey from the schedule IV controlled substance raging through my body. I have no idea what is about to happen. I haven’t researched the procedure….but the genius who decided to throw 30mg of valium at the patient before the “event” deserves a street named after him….because I really don’t care at this point. I’m sleep deprived and ready to go.

In the back: I am seated and the nurse, Paula checks my blood pressure and goes over a check list to verify i have followed my instructions. I am sitting just inside the room with the door to my left. I’m facing the workstation on the nearest wall. There’s a laptop and the usual containers that you would expect to find in a doctor’s examination room. I cautiously look around the room. On the far wall is the exam table. On the wall beside the table I spot three or four small pieces of paper taped to the wall at a forty-five degree angle. My linear OCD is triggered but doesn’t consume me enough to stop me from casing the room. Just at the head of the table there is a very large machine that takes up quite  bit of space. I decide not to look too closely at this machine as I am sure it is what will be used for today’s main event. We are chatting about stuff. I really don’t remember what exactly. I remember how nice she is and that she has a good sense of humor. Out of nowhere she asks, “What kind of music do you like?”. I draw a complete blank. I stutter and try to figure out where the heck that came from and what the heck that has to do with my prostate. She points to her laptop and explains that they like to play music during the procedure to relax the patient. She dumbs it down for me, “What station do you like on XM?”. I slur, “…uhm..lithium I guess…90’s..grunge…”. I can’t quite get it out as the valium is now affecting my speech. Stone Temple Pilots or Alice in Chains is now playing from the tiny computer speakers. I immediately regret my decision of music. I should have gone with a lighter brand of music. Oh well, live and learn. I will  suggest they add the music choice to the patient’s prep list.

She instructs me to stand up so she can give me a shot in the butt. I continue to feel the effects of the drug and shuffle over towards the long table by the far wall and I kind of stand there trying to figure out if I am to drop my drawers or offer her a cheek. She matter-of-factly strolls over and pulls down my waistband and stabs my hip with a tiny needle. She hands me a huge blue paper napkin as she turns to leave and instructs me to take off my shorts, lay on my left side facing the wall and cover up. I thank her and  start to disrobe as I hear the door shut. As I lay my head on the pillow I get it. Before my eyes the mystery of the crooked paper on the wall is revealed. They are  cartoons and comic strips lending a little humor to my situation. I didn’t have my glasses on so it  was lost on me but  appreciated none-the-less.

I hear the door open and hear Eric and Paula talking. I have had time to rethink my music selection and I share with them my new selection. I garble out, “I thought of a better song for the occasion…”. I begin to sing the song “Getting to Know You” from “The King and I“. It garnered a giggle and a smirk as far as I could tell. Eric seats himself at the foot of the bed which leads to light conversation. We talk a little baseball and I remind him I have two gigs in two days and he again tells me I will be fine. He prepares me for the first step of the procedure. He continues and in mid sentence I feel a piercing in the center of my soul.

The shot of lidocaine was the most painful part of all of this. I guess the combination of valium and  the shot in my hip did the trick because I don’t remember him even being in the neighborhood. The lidocaine went straight to my tongue. My tongue wouldn’t cooperate at all. The metal taste in my mouth and jumbled words were almost instant. The pitch of my voice became much higher and my original thought I was working through had vacated. He was right though. The first one was going to hurt and hurt it did. but then as soon as it was…it wasn’t. He now had  eleven samples to collect. We counted down with each tissue sample and soon it  was over. He stood up and proclaimed the procedure a success. They left me with the supplies I needed to clean up including but not limited to some wipes and napkins and a sanitary napkin to put in my boxers for any bleeding. All sweet gestures to leave me with my dignity and self respect. For the record, a sanitary napkin does not work with the “V cut” of a man’s boxers. I should have worn jockey shorts and I will also suggest that be added to the prep list.

I swing my legs around and clean myself up and place my sanitary napkin in my boxers which is completely futile considering my state of mind. I do the best I can. I look down beside the bed and see an empty condom wrapper. I chuckle. What were the odds? Eric comes in with the nurse (I think) and gives me my final instructions and sends me out front.

Everything from here on is a little foggy. I don’t have a clear picture to describe. Michelle is surprised I’m out so soon….I kinda remember her being a little disappoint she didn’t get to read all of her material…. I’m hungry and ready to go home. I’m a little grumpy and ready to hit the couch. We drive by a local place and grab some food. I’m still a little out of it. Kinda like I’m in slow motion. Everything from here on is still a little foggy.I eat and lay down. It was the best sleep I had in a couple of weeks. I drift off after I get Mike’s text announcing his ETA. Sweet sleep, where have you been?

 

 

 

Biopsy Day…Lot’s to say here. #6

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The Beach at Seaside

Seaside Florida

I have a date set and two weeks to go before the procedure. I have plenty of distractions. The “Circle of Trust” has widened to include some folks that I work very closely with as well as a couple of friends and a group of men in my Entrepreneur’s Organization forum. The number stands at less than twenty folks. The weeks leading up to Spring Break include an EO membership event, Parker’s baseball games and practices, Dylan’s fifteenth birthday, my EO forum’s monthly meeting as well as a planning meeting with my business partner, Jason and strategy meetings for a couple of initiatives we are working on for the company. I could not have asked for a better eleven days before Spring Break. 

As a very young man I remember a prayer. It went something like this, “Dear God, Just once…just one time…If you could ever find it in your will to provide me with a house full of beautiful young women with a beach setting during a vacation time like…like Spring Break, I will be forever in your debt. I promise to be a good boy…thanks…Amen…”. Well, He delivered, and at the moment I recalled the petition and recognized the plea lay answered before me…I chuckled at His sense of humor. I had learned later in life, after my original request and was again reminded to be specific in prayer. God had answered and it was the perfect answer…I am glad however, that I didn’t make two such requests. 

March 22-29, 2014 Spring Break: My side kick and wingman for the trip is David Hamric. I have known, “Hambone” or “Hammy” for several years but only in the last couple of years have we spent time outside of our daughters’ activities and our wives’ instruction. We both see things in our own twisted way. Dang! Hammy may have to back out. He has a bulging disc in his neck that is creating all kinds of problems. He is experiencing neck pain, his forearm is burning because of the pinched nerve.He decides he’s going…he can hurt at home or hurt at the beach…he chose the beach. He can’t sleep and the pain killers just take the edge off. I think he said the pain meds took it from a 12 to a 6.5 on his pain index with 10 being the highest number. He hung in there though. It was kind of cold and windy and a little rainy all week. We watched NCAA tourney. Eash day we would look for the perfect plan to find a little comfort for Hambone. He knew about my impending “date with Dr. Jellyfingers” and we talked about how much better it could have been if we were 100%. Not to worry, we did find some time to laugh and have a good time. We may have been the only guys who could have enjoyed the company of the other. Each of us glad we weren’t going through the other’s ordeal. All in all we did the best with what we had…and we did great.

The first week of April is a busy week. First, come up with clever April Fool’s gag. Second, Have my prostate biopsied. Next, Mike Frazier will drive the two of us down to Pensacola for a private gig at a “Change of Command” celebration. Finally, have Mike drive us back to Birmingham for another gig at Blackwell’s Neighborhood Pub. My Doctor has “signed off” for this little adventure, post biopsy. I did everything but number one…which, ironically I now do many times through out the day (think about it…there ya go).

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Let’s back it up a bit.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014: Jose’ Ordonez is stopping in Birmingham for a couple of days on his way back home to Kansas City. We have a couple of days of interviews and recruiting stuff to discuss for work. I picked him up at about 8.30pm at BHM and took him to Blackwell’s for some food and a beverage. We got back home around 11:30 or so. Michelle was up and happy to see our friend. We all lived in Knoxville in another life and share some fond memories before we started this little “growing up” thing. We enjoyed catching up and talking about kids and family and being so far away from “home”. Before you know it is 2AM. We all panic and go to sleep….well kinda. Despite the high gravity beers and the late hour I still couldn’t sleep. Carpool and work await early Wednesday morning. 

Wednesday, April 2, 2014: Rock and Roll! Jose’ and I are up, he finishes a conference call and we head to work. We have a great day! Lot’s of collaboration no down time, we are 100 mph all day. We head back to Blackwell’s after work and have a drink and then to Fleming’s for dinner and back home. I order some to-go food for Michelle. Once back home, Jose’ and I sit on the patio with a night cap talking shop. The perfect recipe for sleep. The formula: sleep deprived + long work day + wine + dinner + scotch = sleep. This is easy. I yawn myself to my palette and prepare to settle in for a delicious night’s rest. BAM! Wide awake. I knew this was happening. I was hoping to ignore it and get caught up on some much needed rest.

This is the night when I come to grips with what is really going on. I am stressed out. I have pushed this aside. Here is what I have been praying in regards to my the old prostate thing-a-majig: a) that I don’t have cancer. b) that if I do have cancer that we’ve caught it early c) that if God has chosen me to carry this burden, that I understand His purpose and I recognize the plan when it is revealed….You would think that laying in bed every night for a couple of weeks that maybe I would possibly recognize that this ordeal is taking its toll on me. What do you do? You get up everyday and do what you do everyday. If I stay busy I can hold this off. Man, I’m tired.

Sometime before this point I receive instructions for a “Prostate Needle Biopsy”…That’s the first time I heard the word needle…Well I guess that makes sense. I guess….kinda.

Here are the highlights: 

  • Fleet enema two hours before procedure
  • take an antibiotic the morning of
  • Take a valium one hour before 
  • eat normal
  • don’t drive

Just the name of the enema is funny. “Fleet”. Have fun with that for a minute. I am texting Eric, Tuesday night before the surgery. I am at the pharmacy picking up my “Fleet” two pack. I decided to get the two pack. Better to have too much than not enough. Only the valium was there. No antibiotics had been either called in or received. It doesn’t really matter. The last thing I did when I left Eric’s office a couple of weeks ago was “pick up my shield and ready my dagger”. I send him a text…here is our exchange:

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NOTE: Pretty cool, Hammy had just sent me a text when I took the screen shot for this. You can read it at the top. He added me to his Church’s prayer list. Coincidence? Nope. “You are….in good hands.” – Thank you Hammy, You’re a good man.

I also sent him a text that said, “I am going to give myself a bourbon enema so you know how my dentist feels…” I still think that is pretty funny. He reminded me that I am indeed a little twisted. 

 

Thursday April 3, 2014:Up and At’em! Jose’ and I head to the office after a cup of coffee and my prescribed morning Cipro. I have a call with Ann to discuss a timeline I am working on. I have a little more to do than I have time. I cut my call with Ann a little bit early and hand her off to Jose’. I say my goodbyes and hit the road. He knows the situation and is aware of my dread. I don’t really know what I am dreading other than the point of entry…which is kind of lame to choose that of all the other stuff I should be dreading when you look at the alternative ways they have to access my prostate. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. The besets straight line is one that doesn’t require a scalpel and the loss of the blood. Bring it on doc! I’m your boy. I am going to be the very best patient ever.

Enema done! The last enema I recall in the very back of my mind is at a coffee bar in South Beach two years ago…I kid. I kid…I remember my grandmother flushing out the bacteria of my young bowels….”Nana Style”. Nana isn’t like Doctor Jellyfingers and the whole DRE thing. Nana took her time and was very gentle…I think. I just remember asking for “why?” and remember her telling me “because”. I remember crying and fighting and being worn down by that lady…. I was eighteen…Okay, I was at least three or maybe four years old. Yes, I do have memories of being three years old. 

Next, Valium and some water. We have to be in Homewood at 1:30pm for my procedure. Michelle is driving and I am riding ‘gun. The drive is about twenty minutes. I step out of the car and I immediately feel the valium…I didn’t fall. My legs took a second to adjust to the chemical racing through my blood stream. I giggled a little bit and told Michelle I was a little unsteady on my feet. I quickly pulled it together and walked to the elevator. The elevator opens and an attractive lady wearing a white lab coat walks by us. I smile and say, “hello”. I look at Michelle and say, “That’s my doctor”. “Really?” she asks. “Nope, I just wanted to see your reaction”. Michelle was also feeling a little strain during all of this and doing a great job of hiding it. She knew Eric was my doctor. I was surprised she bit.

We arrive at the second floor and I walk  up to sign in. Michelle has her “PEOPLE” magazine and some other smut to read while I am in the back. All of my appointments to this point have been first thing in the morning. It’s usually pretty quiet. Today it is packed with folks waiting….waiting on either a doctor or a patient. I decide that a bunch of people is a good thing. There’s a grumpy lady who is upset that the EMT’s waiting near us can’t silence their radio. I wish it bothered me. 

“DAVID SURBER”, my name is announced. They pronounce “Surber” correctly and again, I see that as a good thing. I am calm (thank you Mr. Cipro), cool and walking tall. I will be the best patient to have ever come through this place. It is just another day. I do this every Thursday. What’s the big deal?