Keith had another surgery this morning. In the past almost six years now, he has had 11. These 11 included a few biopsies, a few out-patient, and a few major, three to four hour challenges.
He is really remarkable (but don't let him know I said that!) He goes in to every surgery with a smile on his face and more than a few wise-cracks for the nurses and doctors. Today he told his dad that the doctor had to remove some of his sense of humor, but it was okay because there wasn't much there anyway. I know because I have seen it over and over again...it's there...and there is a lot of it!
His newest gag is asking if he could get a Bergan Mercy Club Card to acquire frequent patient points. He figures with as many doctor appointments, tests, scans and surgeries he has had he would be a Platinum Card holder and at least two of his past surgeries should have been free. Nice concept, but I really don't see it catching on.
The nurse today was a young, very sweet Marian girl who happened to know my niece Korie. (Keith's brother Mark swears all Catholics know each other because we always seem to run into someone I know.) He had her laughing several times and most were genuine laughs, not the "feel sorry for the sick guy and giggle every now and then" responses he has gotten in the past. She said that he was a great patient because he made the day fun. I'm not sure how many nurses get to say that.
He remarked about the lovely and stylish blue surgical caps that must have been a real fashion craze since almost everyone was wearing one. (Not me, of course, because I am never in style!) He told an older gentleman waiting for his wife and holding her purse that he should reconsider the color choice of his purse, it didn't match his outfit. He asked about a discount if he provided his own surgical tools, then said it was probably for the best when they declined, since he only had a putty knife. I usually tell him, "You are so weird!", to which he responds, "Well, at least I didn't marry weird."
He takes little if any pain medication, but always has a very convincing, very pathetic little moan when asked how he is. The poor nurse believed him and rushed to his side which only fueled him for later.
Keith always tells me that he refuses to worry even a minute about something he has no control over. He chooses to make the best of the situation and because of that, he leaves the radiation room, chemo unit and operating rooms a little brighter than when he got there. He would never want to hear that he is dealing with cancer heroically, he insists having an illness does not make him a hero and there are plenty of people in the world worse off than he is. He simply puts his faith in the Lord, and laughs instead of crying, smiles instead of frowning, and jokes instead of complaining.
I keep saying that this surgery is going to be "the last one." So far I haven't been correct. No matter what, we know that we go day by day, step by step, joke by joke and if one last time turns into one more time, we'll deal with it and Keith will think of a few new witty remarks to remind us all that laughter is the best medicine and faith in the Lord is the best cure.
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