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Swollen legs, fluid buildup
and a tumor to remove
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Columnist Ted Sielaff wrote this column before entering the hospital this week. His colleagues at TheColumnists.com join his readers in wishing him speedy recovery and a quick return to his place here as soon as he feels ready to continue his fine columns. |
of TheColumnists.com
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I am writing this essay
because so many people have been kind enough to wonder what happened
to me and have sent notes, cards, and other good wishes. I’ve been out of communication because I have been seriously ill. It is something that was most unexpected. About three months ago, I noticed that my legs started getting bigger and bigger. It was as though I was walking with two five gallon bottles of water for legs. When I went swimming, I had trouble keeping myself above water. Not knowing how serious this problem was, I had exercised hard and felt flushed. And because of this, I wanted to be sensible and kept such exercise down to two sessions of 15 minutes. I was doing a dumb thing! Dr. Jeffrey Croke at the Encina Practice of the Palo Alto Medical Foundation diagnosed my condition as edema–swollen ankles and legs--and led me through the steps needed to get proper treatment and follow up. Dr. Croke ordered a CT Scan and Echocardiogram that revealed I had a mass of fluid in the sac (the pericardium) that surrounds my heart. It had been building up for months and if allowed to continue it would stop my heart. When doctors saw the fluid build up around my heart, they concluded that my case required emergency treatment. So, I was immediately taken from the Palo Alto Medical Foundation to Stanford Hospital–practically next door–enrolled in a room, and was scheduled for an operation the next day. The first thing they did was to run a tube from my groin up through the aorta and into my heart. They injected dye so that x-rays of the heart could be made while the operation was in progress. After this first important procedure, the surgeon was ready to penetrate my chest with his tool and then run it up to the sac (the pericardium), penetrate that, and start draining. They drained out over a liter (more than a quart) of fluid. They examined the fluid and found no cancer cells. That was good news. The operation left me exhausted and ready for an overnight stay in the Intensive Care ward where I was hooked up to high tech machines which continuously monitored the oxygen in the blood, the blood pressure, and the heart beat. I was hooked to these gadgets with an umbilical cord for the next six days. The Stanford Hospital is a great place and secretly I wonder if the nurses all take a short course called, “No Problem.” I can imagine one of the trainers standing in front of a class of nurses and throwing out situations the nurses confront daily. And they are trained to shout back in unison: “No Problem!” You should have seen some of the awful messes I created and for which I apologized profusely. They replied: “No Problem! Mr. Sielaff, you worry too much.” The doctors wanted to know why fluid built up around my heart. More X-rays and an echocardiogram revealed that I have a tumor about the size of a lemon rubbing against the pericardium and that probably is what caused the body to generate fluid. Is this tumor benign or cancerous? And is it related to a case of lymphoma that I had about 20 years ago? Another operation was required to find out. The doctor inserted a thin, tube-shaped device between my ribs and snipped several samples of the growth near my heart. Slides were made of the samples and top notch pathologists at Stanford studied them. They concluded the tumor is not lymphoma and is probably not cancerous, which is a huge relief to all of us. However, they also concluded this growth should be removed to avoid more problems, which most likely means another operation and a hospital stay of five days to a week. Not something I’m looking forward to. On April 6th, I will be seeing a cardiothoracic surgeon to see what type of surgery is feasible. In the meantime, I am trying to gradually recover my strength. I was in the hospital for only a week. And yet, the two procedures performed on me have taken their toll. I feel completely exhausted. It is truly amazing how quickly a person can go downhill. I am just plain worn out, and I don’t really enjoy interaction with people. I hope you will not think me rude. At this time, I’m in no shape to see visitors or receive calls. Also, I am trying to avoid respiratory infections. Throughout this ordeal, I have been very grateful for the help and encouragement of my wife, Ginny, and my three sons: Jack, Jim, and Jeff. And, I should not forget Brenda, Diane, Mandy, and Sonia. And I want to thank all of you great people who have helped me with your prayers, notes, cards, and words of encouragement. But I’m in good spirits and plan to see all of you again in the near future. I’ll keep you informed on this mystery case. When I had a case of lymphoma 20 years ago, I found it helpful to work on my recovery by imagining myself as a mountain climber, gradually making my way up the face of Half Dome in Yosemite. I find that image useful for this challenge, as I begin another climb. |
©2006 by Ted Sielaff. The illustration
is from IMSI's Master Clips Collection, 1895 Francisco Blvd.
E., San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506, USA. This column first posted
April 3, 2006.
You
can comment on this column online. Please address your message
to either "The Editors" or Ted Sielaff. To send an
email, click here and don't forget to mention Ted's name: talkback@thecolumnists.com
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