Everybody I know, sooner or later, likes to talk about their operations or their illnesses. It is a part of the human condition for all of us. I had one too. However, I would never have laid my trip on anyone and you would never have heard about it except, in my case, it had a happy ending. In fact I am proud of how I fought off the doctors at the San Francisco VA and got free as a bird.
Two years ago the people at the VA spotted a cancer on my left kidney, near the exit on the ureter.
“OK,” I said, “So what do we do about it?”
They said, “We must to send in a camera and take a look.”
I didn’t believe they could but, while I was asleep, that’s what they did. They sent a tiny camera up through my plumbing and took pictures. Their tests told the truth. By some modern miracle, while they were on station, peering at the problem, they shot their tiny laser gun at the upstart cells and burned it out.
Hurray. A good finish to a bad beginning.
They weren’t finished with me. In fact they were only beginning to poke around with their tools and instruments and have their fun. Four more times, every four months, they repeated the jolly procedure. After procedure Number Two, four months later, they said I was free of the problem.
Trip Number Three under my Merry Medical Member’s examinations, while I was happily asleep, the villainous cancer cells had returned. Presto Chango, they burned the stubborn interloper out a second time. In another four months, the third time, they looked again. I was still free of the pesky problem. All was good.
Same for Number Four. In four more months they said they wanted to repeat the procedure a fifth time. This was becoming monotonous; like periodic maintenance on an old cranky automobile. I had enough.
”Have I an option?” I asked
The doctor thought and said, “Yes. It is not as accurate as being right up close and personal with our camera. We can give you an MRI.”
That sounded more reasonable than their “procedure.” I didn’t say it out loud but I wondered why in the world they had not thought of that before. An MRI is painless and I don’t have to breath in the gas and go to sleep. Besides, the after effects, when they poke around your insides, including the Foley Bag afterward for a day or so to keep the plumbing in operation, and the rest of what happens is no fun.
They gave me an MRI and took pictures. When these pictures came back the, less accurate, MRI revealed “something” was still there hogging that same parking spot where once there had been a bean-sized cancer.
“We must go in to be sure of what we saw, Mr. Paleno,” Dr. Seligman explained.
Her kindly request was said in such a sweet winning manner I had to agree. Once again I had my adventure. After I woke up they gave me the news.
“You are A-OK,” the doctor said. “It is benign.”
Mark Twain said, “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you discover why.”
I know why I was born. I was born to write. I try to make people feel good. If I see a wrong I try to persuade my readers to change things that need changing. I want my stories to make life more interesting for my readers. With my writing, my family and a host of really good and wonderful friends, do you wonder why I wake up every morning happy? Nearing the century mark and still doing my thing, I am the luckiest man in the universe. With no pills, except the baby aspirin Dr. Mulligan said I should take to avoid a stroke, and some vitamins for an older guy like me, I count my blessings every day of my life. Life is good.
Gene Paleno is an author and illustrator living in Witter Springs.
