June 17, 2009, The Big Day, Post 5

5:21 PM
We just met with Dr Jarnagin, the liver surgeon. Everything went well. All the masses were removed, no blood transfusion is needed as yet, although it may be needed in a day or two. "What did it look like?" "Mozzarella cheese. White. Squishy but firm enough that when we grabbed it, it didn't break." "Was the 'cystic space' behind the liver fluid-filled?" "No, it was solid. The masses were mostly in small bits with no apparent blood supply but it might have gotten it from the liver. It's in the hands of the pathologists now."

So: The gallbladder stayed, the spleen went, a small part of the liver and some of the diaphragm were removed, and repaired. The liver was blue instead of chestnut, which is common for people who've had chemotherapy. Sometimes that resolves, but his liver function is good, which is what counts.

Right now, Dr Scheinfeld, the urologist, is feeling around the retroperitoneal area to see if there are any masses that are residual from the RPLND, and he has not found anything yet. Dr Scheinfeld will also close Joshua up. We are staying in the waiting room near the Post Anaesthesia Care Unit, where Josh will be carefully monitored all night. He'll be here at least one night, maybe two. We'll get to see him in a couple of hours.

So far, this has gone as well as possible. We are happy, relieved, and not out of the woods yet but getting there.

I have the honor to publish, for the very first time, an ode to spleen, by Sarah Meyer:

Departure


To Josh's spleen, betwixt, between
The liver and the colon,
We here forewarn that Thursday morn'
You'll find that you've been stolen.

But please, dear spleen, remain serene,
O King of things lymphatic,
Our praise for you and all you do
Has always been emphatic.

You've done your part, like lungs and heart
To keep our dear Josh healthy.
But soon, anon, you'll be withdrawn
By surgeons, skilled and stealthy.

We've always seen, departing spleen,
Your obvious potential, but--
The time's at hand to understand
You're simply nonessential.

Yet be at peace as we release
You from your carnal dwelling.
And contemplate how grand, how great's
The tale you'll soon be telling--

Of how you firmly dealt with germs
And fought off each infection,
Of how you met with old kismet,
And faced the last resection.

And so, goodbye, as the surgeons tie
A knot in the final suture,
As we turn our eyes to the gold sunrise
Of a bright, yet spleenless, future.