The doctors are great. The nurses are even better. They cannot do enough to make George comfortable. They include me in everything.
George is not playing nice today. He is yelling (WOW- has THAT word taken on a new meaning) at the nurses, the cleaning people...anyone that comes into his room is at risk. For someone who cannot talk he sure is getting his point across!
The surgeon wants another cat scan of his head and neck. Evidently radiation can play hell with the teeth and bones in the head so ...just to be safe... (I'm starting to hate that term) they schedule more tests.

My husband was a chief law enforcement officer. He is 6'4 " and weighs in around 240. The joke among my friends and family is that George is "Large and In Charge." He gives orders, he doesn't take them. He has spent 30 years telling others what to do, how to do it and when to do it. He is used to being obeyed. He is used to making his way work. When George woke up with that trach tube ( yes- another word I'm now using like a pro) he woke up on the wrong side of his life. He is NOT a happy camper. His control is gone. Others are telling him what to do and how to do it. He is now not able to speak or eat. His nutrition is now through the tube that has been inserted in his belly.

I feel sorry for the nurses. His one nurse stated that George is the perfect patient...as long as I am there. Oh, those poor, already overworked, men and women. I've known this man for 20 + years. I know that dealing with him when he's like this is not fun.

Oh Good Lord - what else can happen? A new doctor has come into the room. He is an oral surgeon and is there to discuss the most recent CAT scans. It seems there is some type of infection in George's jaw bone that necessitates the removal of all ...ARE YOU SERIOUS...ALL????...his teeth. WAIT A DOGGONE MINUTE...He just had a root canal done 2 months ago! His dentist said his teeth are fine! George is shaking his head side to side and forcefully mouthing
"NO WAY!!!"
My thoughts are at Mach 5...."Uh oh....this is not good...George has always taken care of his teeth...what does this mean for his surgery? What does this mean for the cancer? Does that mean there is cancer in his jaw? What does this mean for George? He is so vain!" I'm standing at his bedside, staring at the doctor but not responding to him. He's telling us surgery needs to be tomorrow....one day before the big surgery. He wants to know if I understand everything, do I have any questions.....
My daughter steps into the conversation and demands to see the scans. Across the hall is the computer room and, there, right in front of me, I see why removal is the only option. His jaws are full of infection pockets. Some new, some old but all bad. Ooooo...George is about to become really unhappy!!!