James Ross - A Young Adult Trilogy (Prairie Winds Golf Course)

by James Ross

  Later that afternoon she came into his room with two other doctors. “Curt, I’d like to introduce you to Doctor Khalil Rashinababba.” The physician looked about his same age and was Pakistani. He looked grim and nodded in Curt’s direction. An Oriental female stood next to him. “I’d also like for you to meet Doctor Shih-Chung Hu Hsaio-huang.”

  Curt glanced over to Dr. Svenson with a look of disdain. This can’t be good, he thought. He took a deep breath. Look at all these foreigners in here messing with my life. I can’t believe this crap. Where’s Butch when I need him?

  “We’ve gotten back the results of the MRI,” Dr. Svenson began.

  “And?” Curt interrupted.

  The grim look on Dr. Rashinababba’s face got grimmer. He shook his head from side to side and shifted his eyes to the floor. Doctor Hu Hsaio-huang held the MRI results in her hand.

  Here we go again! For crying out loud! Can’t we get some doctors around here that can speak some English? Come on Butch. Get back from Palm Springs. Curt chewed over and over. He was furious that the hospital couldn’t provide some specialists that could relate to him better. “What were the results?” Curt demanded.

  Dr. Rashinababba produced a picture of the MRI for Curt to see. The lower part of his abdomen was exposed.

  “The mass that you see right here,” Dr. Hu Hsaio-huang said as she pointed to the MRI, “is a too-mah.”

  “It is the size of a baseball,” Dr. Rashinababba added.

  “In your colon,” Dr. Svenson added.

  Curt interpreted their looks as grave and became infuriated. “What can be done about it?” He searched for more words. “I mean with modern medicine we can get it out of there, can’t we?”

  “It is willy big,” Dr. Hu Hsaio-huang continued, “and must come out.”

  “For the area that it is located in,” Dr. Rashinababba included, “there is cause for concern. But we’ll let pathology determine whether or not it is cancerous.”

  “What’s the next step?” Curt inquired.

  “The MRI indicated that there is a mass in your colon. We’re going to have a colonoscopy done. The colonoscopy will give us more information as to the severity of the problem. If it needs to come out immediately, they will mark the area for the surgeon and we’ll talk about our options,” Dr. Svenson explained.

  “When?” Curt asked.

  “Tomorrow,” she answered.

  “How can we do that?” Curt asked. “I had one about six or seven years ago and I haven’t even started the preparation yet.”

  “We’ll put you on laxatives immediately. Those can be taken orally,” Dr. Svenson explained.

  “And give you two gallons of polyethylene glycol to consume,” Dr. Rashinababba specified.

  “Make sure you follow the diwections,” Dr. Hu Hsaio-huang said, “and dwink it all.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Curt stammered, “I’ve been through the procedure before. The day before is the worst part of it all. Once you get to the table you don’t feel a thing.”

  “We’ll be in to check on you periodically,” Dr. Svenson said.

  “If they determine to get it out immediately, I guess my colon will be as clean as a baby’s ass after a bath,” Curt said, a wee bit pissed at the news that he just received.

  “I’ve got a funny feeling that the only option is going under the knife ASAP,” Curt stammered. The physicians nodded at Curt, turned, and walked out of the room. Isn’t this just wonderful? What am I going to do now? He adjusted his body and allowed his eyes to close. Maybe it’s time to get that inner peace, but Dammit, I’ve got a lot more stuff I wanted to do.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “Mistah Cut,” the familiar voice rang out to awaken Curt.

  “Oh. I must have dozed off,” Curt replied. He glanced at the clock to see that he had only been asleep for twenty minutes or so.

  “You need to take these pills,” the nurse ordered as she put a package on his tray.

  “Let’s go about this a little differently. You have to have a name.” Curt proposed. “What is it?”

  “Su-ling Chun,” the nurse said, “but I’m not allowed to give you my last name.”

  “All of that is your first name?” Curt asked bewildered.

  The nurse nodded and smiled. “But you can call me Sue.” She was cute, honest, sincere, and helpful—he liked that.

  “Sue it is,” Curt confirmed. He opened the package and placed the contents on the tray. “I guess these are the laxatives?”

  Sue nodded.

  “What else do I need to do?”

  “Take two of them every two hours until they are gone.” She handed him two large containers of polyethylene glycol. “You need to dwink all of this.”

  “That’s got to be darn near two gallons of fluid! Who’s going to clean up my bed?”

  “Just dwink it by midnight,” Sue smiled. “You’ll make it okay.” She continued to the IV pole, programmed the proper rate for another unit of blood, and hung the bag from an arm on the pole.

  “Now what are you doing?” Curt questioned her.

  “You need another twansfusion,” Sue replied. “Your wed blood cells aah still too low.” She prepared the IV and administered it into his arm. The blood began dripping through the tubing.

  “How many more of these do I need to go through?” Curt asked.

  “Your wed blood cell count is up to six and a half,” Sue responded. “We aah almost there.”

  “Good,” Curt replied, “I’m sick of all these needles and tubes and stuff . . . . plus I’m ready to get out of here and go home. Either that or the golf course.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “Curt. Curt. You can wake up now,” Dr. Milt Mortenson mouthed as he tapped on Curt’s shoulder. “Can you hear me?” Dr. Mortenson was the gastro-intestinal internist who had performed the colonoscopy.

  “Yeah, I sure can,” Curt mumbled. He slowly opened his eyes. “Have you started yet?”

  “We’re done,” Dr. Mortenson answered. He was sitting on a stool and his head was at Curt’s eye level.

  “Do I have to wear a bag?” Curt blurted. His worst fear besides the tumor being cancerous was that he would have to wear a colostomy bag for the rest of his life.

  “No, you won’t have to wear a bag, but what’s in there has to come out.”

  “Good! Then let’s get it out of there. I don’t want that junk in my body. When can we get at it?”

  “As soon as possible,” the doctor replied.

  “Today?” Curt wondered out loud. He was still clearing his head from the anesthetics. “Put me back under, wheel me into surgery, and get it out of there.”

  “It doesn’t work quite like that. I don’t think that we can get a surgeon for later today, but let me make a few phone calls. We’ll shoot for tomorrow,” Dr. Mortenson proposed. “I marked the area that needs to come out.” He patted Curt on the back of the shoulder. “Once I line up the surgeon that I want, I’ll have him come to your room.” He pushed with his legs and rolled away from the bed. “Get your rest.”

  Finally a doctor that I can relate too, Curt thought as he closed his eyes and dozed off, still feeling euphoric. The attendants wheeled him off to his room. He could rest more comfortably there as the drugs wore off.

  Dr. Mortenson had developed a good working relationship with Dr. Richard Mason over the years. Not only were they linked professionally, but the two had become good friends socially and often covered for each other when conflicts occurred. He called the surgeon and immediately inquired about his availability the next day. After confirming the need for the operation, Dr. Mortenson instructed Dr. Mason to go to Room 6014 and speak to the patient.

  The minute Dr. Mason walked into the room Curt couldn’t tell if he was a savant or an ADD sufferer. His energy level was bouncing around the room like a child in a Burger King playpen. It was as if the surgeon got wind of a new procedure and couldn’t wait to try it out at dawn the very next day. “Look, here is wha
t the situation is,” Dr. Mason started. He ripped a piece of paper out of an attaché folder that he was carrying and said, “Here, it’s better for me to draw a picture.” He plopped down on the foot of the bed.

  “Thanks, I can probably understand a picture easier, too,” Curt agreed.

  Dr. Mason wanted to assure Curt first of all that he was in good hands. “I want you to understand that I’ve done as many as three or four of these in a day.” He began to draw on the piece of paper. “Now here is how it works. Your small intestine is underneath your stomach. That’s where the solid matter is broken down and turned into fluid.”

  Curt studied the drawing. “Okay, so far, so good—Health 101.”

  The doctor looked at him like he was a smart-ass. “It will get a little more complicated.” He drew some additional lines on the paper. “Now the waste, in liquid form, leaves the small intestine right above your pubic area for sake of an example.”

  “I follow,” Curt said moving his head up and down.

  “From there it goes into the large intestine. It goes up the right side of your body, across your abdomen right below the rib cage, and then goes down the left side of your body until it exits your system as waste,” Dr. Mason pulled his pen across the page.

  Curt had a confused look on his face. “I thought that the large intestine was full of solid waste. When does it change from liquid to solid?”

  “Good question!” Dr. Mason exclaimed as if the entire bowel movement function turned him on. “The liquid matter leaves the small intestine and enters the large intestine at this juncture.” He placed his pen on the area where the small intestine and large intestine join.

  “This is known as the ascending wall of the large intestine.” He pointed to the area on the right side of the body. “The waste is still in liquid form right here and this is where we have most of the problems with colon cancer.”

  “Is that where my problem is?” Curt followed.

  “Yes, the ascending wall!” Dr. Mason said throwing his arms into the air.

  “Yeah, but where does it get changed to solid waste?” Curt continued.

  “As it crosses above the abdomen,” Dr. Mason enlightened him.

  “And the solid waste has nothing to do with my problem?”

  Dr. Mason folded his arms over his chest. “Not really. It is unrelated. The tumor is in the ascending wall.”

  “Yes, you’ve made that clear,” Curt said shaking his head to temper Dr. Mason’s enthusiasm about bowels.

  “What we really don’t know and I hope to find out tomorrow is if the tumor has grown outside the wall of the large intestine. Let’s hope that it hasn’t. If it has gotten outside the walls of the colon then cancerous cells may have been spread to other parts of the body. It appears on the pictures that it is self-contained. We just don’t know for sure,” the doctor clarified.

  “How long will I be in surgery?” Curt was thinking about Justin and Keith.

  “Figure an hour and a half to two hours depending on whether or not we have complications,” was Dr. Mason’s expert opinion.

  “How much do you have to cut on me?” Curt searched for another answer.

  “It’s not nearly as bad as it used to be,” Dr. Mason started. “We’ll go into your belly button and under your breast bone with a laparoscopic procedure. You’ll be blown up with carbon dioxide. That allows the abdominal wall to be pushed away from the intestines and gives me room to work. I’ll make a small incision over your ascending wall and actually pull the large intestine out and perform the surgery on top of your belly.”

  “How will everything work when the procedure is completed?” Curt asked.

  Dr. Mason knew where the conversation was headed. “Your large intestine is a good four feet long. We’ll probably cut out sixteen to eighteen inches of it. Then what is left will be attached to your small intestine with a titanium staple. Naturally, your capacity will be affected, but your body can operate normally and all of your bodily functions should be fine.”

  “What else should I know about the process before we go through with it?”

  “The nice thing about the laparoscopic cholecystectomy is that you should have less pain, a quicker recovery, and a smaller incision. You should plan on being in the hospital for approximately five days to recover. We’ll have to make sure that the healing process has started and that everything is performing the way that it should,” Dr. Mason clarified.

  “Anything else?” Curt asked.

  “You’re not taking an aspirin right now, are you?” Dr. Mason asked.

  “Not for the few days I’ve been in here.”

  “We want to make sure that the blood will clot and that the healing process can start,” Dr. Mason explained. “We’ll want you down in surgery at six in the morning. The prep work will begin. Anesthesiology will take over and I’ll see you in surgery right around lunch time. We’ll operate and then you’ll go into the recovery room. Anymore questions?”

  Curt shook his head. “Nope. Let’s go for it. Get that stuff out of me.” They shook hands.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Every Mary and Saint Catholic Church was located a stone’s throw away from where the city limits of St. Louis blended into St. Louis County. It wasn’t too far from the intersection of Gravois Boulevard and the River Des Peres. It was odd that a drainage ditch that had been constructed to drain the water out of Forest Park during the 1904 World’s Fair was called a river. But if you stop to try to make sense out of things, then your mind can really get confused. Nevertheless, the water flowed from the park into the Mississippi River just fine.

  Tina and Justin had been upset when they heard the news that Curt was having surgery for colon cancer. Curt mattered to both of them. Even though Tina had remarried, she would never forget how Curt had been around to help raise Justin. Not only had he been around to change Justin’s diapers and pick him up from day care, but he was there to play catch with him and help him with his homework. Now, as Justin became a teenager, Curt was there to give him his first real job.

  “Honey, we have to get there by six thirty,” Tina said with a sense of urgency to Justin as they sat at a red light.

  “Why is it so important to get there on time?” Justin inquired.

  “We don’t want to be late for mass this morning,” Tina said as she hurried her answer. “ . . . This, of all mornings. We have to get there on time to say our prayers for Curt.”

  “The doors will be open all morning. We’ll have plenty of time to pray for him,” Justin said.

  “But I want to do so much more this morning.” Tina stepped on the gas the instant the light turned green and effectively negotiated her way through the early morning traffic.

  “Like what?” Justin reached down to his seat belt and made sure that he was safely buckled in.

  “The service only lasts for twenty minutes,” Tina said, and of all days, I don’t want to miss communion today.” She made a quick right turn, barely jumped the curb, and wheeled into the parking lot. As she opened the door she yelled to Justin. “Come on, let’s hurry.” They scampered across the lot and through the doors of Every Mary and Saint Catholic Church.

  They genuflected as they entered and then dipped their fingers into a bowl of holy water. Quickly they hurried to a pew and just as swiftly dropped the kneeler into position. Tina and Justin dropped to their knees on the padded bar, bowed their heads, folded their hands, and said a prayer for Curt.

  Justin followed Tina to the communion table and together they consumed a wafer and grape juice which signified the sacrifice. Tina headed to the side of the sanctuary. “Where are we going now?” Justin whispered. He was getting a cram course in how to go through church in a few short minutes.

  “We’re going to light a candle for Curt,” Tina explained.

  As he witnessed the actions of his mom, the seriousness of what was happening to Curt sank in. “I don’t want to lose him, Mom,” Justin whispered, his eyes welling with tears. “He’s my
best friend.”

  “I don’t want to lose him either, Honey. He’s always been there for you.” Tina took a candle and held it for Justin to light. “This will be the light of his life, Justin. I don’t know what we’d do without him.” She placed the burning candle in a holder.

  “It’s too early for him to go, Mom,” Justin said releasing a gigantic tear down his cheek. He took his mom’s hand and they hugged.

  “He won’t go now, Honey. He’s too strong and powerful,” Tina said amid her own stifled sobs. She clutched him tighter–both comforting and comforted. “He’ll stay here for you.” She paused to regain her composure. “I know that he wants to watch over you and see you grow up.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Curt didn’t sleep much. The anxiety of what was around the corner kept him up much of the night. His mind was in overdrive as the thoughts raced on. Is the tumor cancerous or not? If it is, then has it spread? Will there be complications on the operating table? If so, could I die in surgery? Will they be able to get it all? How long do I have if things don’t go okay in surgery? Am I down to my last few months? Should I go and do all of the things that I wanted to do before I die? Will I have to go through chemotherapy treatments? Will radiation be necessary? I know that we all are going to have to go, but I’m not ready to die just yet. There are some people I’d at least like to say goodbye to.

  Only moments after Curt shut his eyes an attendant showed up to take him downstairs to surgery. If there was a silver lining in staying up all night Curt found it that morning. He slept through the wait before going to see the anesthesiologist.

  “I have to go to the bathroom! I have to go to the bathroom!” Curt said excitedly to no one in particular.

  “Go ahead and go,” the recovery nurse urged.