Anyone who's lived long enough has heard about feeding tubes and the less-than-pleasant image the name conveys for many of us. It sounds anything but natural.
Yet, as with so much else in life, I can assure you the reality of relying on a tube to maintain one's weight (and thereby survive) turned a negative impression positive.
I never gave these plastic tubes surgically inserted into the stomach a second thought. Why, as a young man who had no problem wolfing down large meals to the point of becoming overweight, why would I? Eating was the least of my problems for more than seven decades.
Then came that squamous cancer cell that became trapped in my left neck lymph node and began to grow.
Today, after six weeks of 35 radiation and seven chemotherapy treatments, I'm heading into my third month of taking three meals daily in this way.
Radiation-burned throats keep patients from being able to swallow enough calories to maintain their weight, which is critical to successful treatment. The positive effects suffer if a patient's weight drops below about 10 percent of their beginning point.
Since there are only two known routes to the stomach, patients in this situation have no choice but to embrace a tube.
There are many reasons why people must rely on to feeding tubes other than radiation. I feel certain there are a sizable number reading today (or who have loved ones or friends) also thankful to have one.
Once you become accustomed to the routine of using a tube, the process becomes quick and simple. I set the water supply on the table alongside my liquid nourishment of choice. Being a diabetic, I use therapeutic-level Glucerna with 356 calories per 12-ounce bottle.
Then either you or your caregiver (I'm eternally grateful to have Jeanetta) go to work. I learned the technique for when Jeanetta's not available.
She inserts the clear plastic eight-ounce funnel into the top of the tube and initially fills it with water to make sure the tube is clean and clear.
Next comes the medically prescribed Glucerna (warmed slightly in the microwave). It takes seven 12-ounce cartons daily to maintain my weight. Those are broken up into three meals about five hours apart. That's followed by the rest of the water, in my case totaling close to 30 ounces each meal. We also crush my medications and send them down in water each evening, saving the last four ounces of water to flush the tube.
We've honed the process down to about 12 minutes. Afterwards, she changes the little bandage at the point where the tube enters my stomach.
Then I get to watch Jeanetta eat real food and remember what life was like just five months ago.
I chose to write about feeding tubes today after watching an early episode of "New Amsterdam" (great series, by the way) where the personable medical director in his late 40s contracts squamous cell cancer in his throat and must resort to a feeding tube. (What are the odds I'd be watching this?)
It made me realize just how often tube feeding is happening across society today and how many who have yet to encounter the experience might learn a little about the process.
The tube was installed after the surgeon made preparations from inside the stomach. My surgeon, Dr. James Langston of Harrison, has performed hundreds of the procedures, so for him this was not a challenge.
Basically, the physician drops a tiny light into the stomach that shines through the skin to show the best place to insert the tube internally, which is about a foot long outside.
The tube then feeds directly into the stomach. That's all there is to it. This was all done, in my case, under IV "twilight" anesthesia, which thankfully left me peacefully drifting away and oblivious to what became a mini-drama in the operating room.
Dr. Langston, among the finest surgeons in Arkansas, later told me he faced an unexpected challenge during the relatively simple procedure when my breathing became so wildly erratic he had to use a ventilation bag not once but twice to get things under control.
When will I be able to eat normally again? Most who've had the experience tell me to prepare for several months. Meanwhile, after six weeks and swallowing improved somewhat, I've begun taking some soup and pudding by mouth to supplement the Glucerna.
An Internet friend named Dan with the same condition (who is three weeks ahead of me) says he actually ate half a hamburger steak and some mashed potatoes the other day. That's encouraging.
So there, valued readers, you have the unvarnished sum and substance of going from steak, shrimp and Sonic cheeseburgers almost overnight to relying completely for months on cartons of liquid for nourishment.
A feeding tube is certainly no one's preference. But when life deals you a bad hand at any age, it is also an undeniable lifesaver.
Now go out into the world and treat everyone you meet exactly like you want them to treat you.
Mike Masterson is a longtime Arkansas journalist, was editor of three Arkansas dailies and headed the master's journalism program at Ohio State University. Email him at [email protected].