Wet My Hands
Wet My Hands
Life is a precious adventure that we are privileged to experience. But it comes with multiple variables, many beyond our control. I was at the pinnacle of my career as a professor of surgery, skilled surgeon and dedicated medical educator. Then I hurt my back lifting a riding mower onto a pickup bed. After three weeks of relentless back and leg pain, I acquiesced to an MRI. I suspected a ruptured disc. Wrong diagnosis, doctor! I had sustained a pathological fracture of my third lumbar vertebra, meaning cancer! The Fates had snipped a portion of my life thread. I underwent a 5 1⁄2-hour spinal stabilization, and the biopsy proved cancer in the bone marrow — multiple myeloma. You can’t cure this disease, only sequester it by chemotherapy, powerful doses of steroids and perhaps a stem cell bone marrow transplant. I have experienced all of these indignities and more while at the same time trying to help my wife recover from a stroke.
Above all, you will find here a love story, one peppered with detours and achievements and lives saved, perseverance and triumphs, crushing diagnoses and beat-the-odds rallies. It’s 3 in the morning, I’m wide awake from the steroids, and I have much to tell you. Let’s talk.
The ancient Greeks believed that the Fates control our days, that they assign individual destinies to mortals at birth. They spin, weave and cut the strings of life, much to their amusement. Even Zeus, the mightiest of the gods, feared the Fates — Clotho (Spinner), Lachesis (Allotter) and Atropos (Inflexible). I believe they have a tight grip on the hand brake and the throttle of my past, present and future.
Welcome to my journey.
In the blink of an eye the Fates had cut some of my life cords. A pathological fracture means cancer. I have cancer in the bone marrow, multiple myeloma. I go from being a provider who becomes a caregiver to being a caregiver who becomes a patient.
Multiple myeloma is a cancer of the plasma cells, which are a type of white blood cells that produce antibodies. It occurs with a 0.76% incidence, or 1.8% of all cancers. With current treatment regimens, five-year survival is estimated at 54%. The disease can be controlled, but there is no cure. Not something a thoracic surgeon wants to hear. I remove tumors and cure cancer. I don’t “leave it in place.”
Dr. Paul gave me two options: minimally invasive kyphoplasty or traditional open fusion with fixation. The latter would take me out for weeks. Who would care for my patients?
The Fates continue to weave the fabric of my life. The purest golden thread will always be Sharon. We plan on enjoying each other in the time we have together.
I hope you liked the book, learned some facts, had a few laughs and sparked your own self-reflection. The title, incidentally, comes from my cardiac training when our chief LBM always had the tech wet his hands while he tied knots — he thought this made the knots more stable. When I started my practice as a cardiothoracic surgeon, I gave the same command.
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