TAKE TWO - 1 October 2025
Gloria was still in the operating theater yesterday when I received a text from her sister Gaila, asking how Gloria was. The
previous surgery had been scheduled for 12:30 p.m., but this one was set a half-hour later. Since the anesthesiologist wasn't
ready at the scheduled time - I believe he was tied up with another operation that went longer than expected - Gloria's operation
starting about an hour later than the previous one.
But when you have an idea in your head of what is unfolding far from where you are, it is easy to imagine the worst. So while
Gaila was probably fretting over not having received an update on what she imagined was unfolding thousands of miles away, we were
actually speaking with the surgery nurse about her husband’s deployment to Poland during that time.
We run the risk of something similar developing now without some words of explanation. During Gloria's 2022 “adventure” with breast
cancer, pathology reports frequently followed a significant surgical event by no more than two days. But for whatever reasons,
they are currently spanning a week to ten days. The consequence is we are not expecting to hear any news until about a week from
tomorrow, October 9, when we have a 4 p.m. meeting with the surgeon.
So while there is no real reason to share until we have something to share, I thought it best to give an update on yesterday’s
events to avoid any misunderstandings.
The general procedure followed the pattern of those that had gone before, but with some variations.
Since the surgery scar from the procedure two weeks before would guide “Doc” Doering to the site, no radioactive seed was needed,
eliminating the need for a trip to the hospital on Monday. The lymph nodes had been taken and tested during that time as well, so
there was no need for the radioactive-colored-dye injection. This meant we didn't have to be at the hospital until 11 a.m.
Unlike the past, where we were personally guided to the surgery center, they allowed us to go on our own, figuring by now we knew
the way.
When we got to the main waiting area for surgery, Gloria headed off to get out of her clothes and into a gown, confirm who she was
and why she was there, have her vital signs taken, and establish an IV by which the anesthesia would be administered.
Once all that was completed, they collected me and took me to her temporary room. Because of the previously-referenced delay and the
fact that the room was, as usual, cold, I put another blanket on her. Later, Gloria called for another, when the two proved to be
inadequate.
Doc came in and was unusually chatty. Gloria told him "This isn't fun anymore," to which he replied, "Oh, you found the previous
ones were?"
We chatted long enough he forgot to "autograph" her arm to the effect it was her right side he'd be working on and that he had seen
her. But Brittany, the surgery nurse, called him back and he did the deed.
After another wait, Nick, the anesthesiologist, arrived, and went down the usual check list of items ... drugs Gloria takes, does
she use tobacco products, age and date of birth, etc.
Doering's arm autograph: "Yes HBD"
Shortly after, they wheeled her away and I settled down to work on the pictures for Gloria's column this Friday.
About 3:30 p.m., Doering dropped by, said it all went well and now we wait. As noted earlier, he was chattier than usual and we
covered various matters. He confirmed that since the cancer cells to the naked eye look like any others, how much to remove is just
a guess.
Gloria arrived about 15 minutes later, much perkier than on previous occasions, probably because she wasn't sedated as heavily with
no nodes to remove.
She had been slathered with the iodine-based antiseptic from her cheeks to below her breasts. She said she looked as if she had been
covered in mustard and the slightly sticky nature was annoying.
Cindy was Gloria's recovery nurse and she immediately picked up on the smell of eucalyptus in the room. I explained that was me, as
Gloria had just recovered from a bout of something, but had graciously passed whatever it was on to me and I was using cough drops
to knock my cough down.
After-surgery treat: applesauce and grape juice
For her recovery, Gloria chose grape juice, some applesauce and a 4 p.m. pain pill.
After the previous operation, the pharmacy didn’t have her take-home medication ready immediately and since Gloria hadn’t eaten in
the past 16 hours, we headed out to Culver’s. With her looking like a lady who had lost a battle with a jar of mustard, she didn't
want to go inside to be a main attraction, so we did a drive-through and headed over to Bluemont Hill park where we could eat while
looking over the city below. It was extremely nice there.
Then, after picking up her heavy drugs, we headed home for a nondescript evening.
It was 50 years ago this past spring that Gloria graduated from K-State with her then-dorm-mate Deb. Since we were gone this past
spring, yesterday had been the day they had settled on to celebrate this milestone. But fate had stepped in, as it often does.
Back in 1986 when Gloria's first husband Jerome died, Deb made a point of sending Gloria a letter or some small gift so she would
have something to look forward to when things seemed so dark. Over the years, she has often done something similar at trying times.
This episode was no different.
End of the day - a little Culver's on Bluemont Hill
