#mdanderson

I know it’s been awhile since I’ve written anything, so I thought I’d stop slacking. This is going to be a long post, so you might want to grab snacks now...don’t worry, I’ll wait. 

I arrived to Houston optimistic. Convinced that they were only going to remove a part of my stomach, and then I was going to spend the next few months re-stretching it out. I figured if I had to have cancer, then at least I got this weight loss surgery out of it. I was blindly optimistic. I woke up from the surgery groggy, disoriented, and confused. I had a tube in my nose that ran the length of my throat that caused irritation and discomfort everytime I had to swallow. Having a tube in your throat created more saliva which in turn required more swallowing. There was no winning the painful throat battle. I had a tube coming out of my abdomen that was going to feed me for the indefinite future. I had a thin tube in my back that was my epidural and of course mine leaked so I was only numb in sections of my stomach. I was genuinely surprised by how much I hurt. It was blinding. There’s a reason you get to push a button and have some morphine released...it was miserable. 

I heard people talking around me, but nothing really made sense. The only thing I remember them saying was that they had to remove my entire stomach. The fairy tale of a quick recovery slipped away, and I heard the disappointed exhales of my parents. I cried myself to sleep that night. 

The days that followed were a series of movements by staff that had long since fallen into a routine, and some were nicer than others. A lot of side to side motions, and sitting up and standing. There’s no pretending to be asleep to get out of these drills. You don’t have a choice. My stomach eerily looked like Frankensteins early work, and it took me a moment to catch my breath at the sight of it. 

I was in the hospital for two weeks. My parents were there everyday. Even in my sleep I heard the familiar sound of my dad opening a can of Diet Pepsi, and it brought me comfort. Getting up, walking, breathing exercies became my new routine. I definitely wasn’t great at doing it, and my surgeon complained of my unwillingness to sit up for prolong periods of time, but then again, he didn’t just have his insides ripped out and re-sewn together. However, when or if I was ever ready for a walk, I always knew I had an escort in the way of my parents. 

I was finally released from prison, er, I mean the hospital, and it felt great. I was out almost a week before my inability to tolerate the tube feedings and uncontrolled pain put me back in the hospital. They stopped the tube feedings, and started doing TPN (Total Parenteral Nutrition) through my port. It’s basically tube feeding except in runs through my veins vs my small intestine. I can’t say it was much better, but it was going to get me out of the hospital. The disappointment was heavy. I already struggled to catch my breath, but the disappointment of how everything had and was going was hard. One particular night of disappointment I called my dad, just to hear his voice. The next thing I know at 3AM he’s in my room cracking a Pepsi, and holding my hand. We fell asleep like that, and in that moment I didn’t have the weight of disappointment, and frustration. I had the snoring of my dad next to me telling me it was going to be ok. 

Once I left the hospital, my parents had to kick into overdrive. They had to learn how to feed me, how to mix the TPN, how to flush an IV line, how to set up the machines, they’re basically experts now. My mom handled the logistics like the seasoned pro she is, and my dad took me for walks. 

I don’t even know how to start this blog. So many things to get out, and if you’re anything like me, you have the attention span of a gnat. However, this blog is going to entertain. It has action, gore, a lesson on humility, and romance...jk about the romance part. If you’re looking for that, maybe pick up a Nicholas Sparks book? 

I went to Houston for the first time with my best friend Jamie. I didn’t know what to expect, and quite honestly I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared to potentially piss myself in front of my parents. If you don’t think pissing yourself at 32 is a possibility, read on friends. Hence, the lesson on humility. 

I was ready for the first round. I had mentally prepped myself for feeling some discomfort, and hell, I even shaved my legs, just in case a nurse or doctor had to see them. Needless to say, I was itching to get this thing started. I show up Friday morning, mind you, I hadn’t eaten since 9PM the night before, but I kept my “hangry” at bay. Wait, before I go any further, let me paint a picture of this hospital for you. It’s like a rat maze from the 80′s except at the end you don’t get cheese, trust me, I asked. Old hospital, brilliant minds. 

So I get into a room, get into my birthday suit, put on the backless gown, and sit there. Imagine you’re riding a roller coaster, and those moments at the top right before you peak to start the roller coasting, you get those butterflies of anticipation? It was like that, except instead of moments of anticipation it was like 4 hours. 4 HOURS! Finally the surgical team comes in, start an IV with what I can only describe as a rusty nail, and wheel me off. Keep in mind I went to sleep with one rusty nail in my hand, and that’s it. 

I woke up with three IV’s, and a tube coming out of my crotch. A TUBE. Also, it’s not one of those fun things you tug on, trust me on this. I also had the largest distended gut I’ve ever seen, and holy shit, was I in pain. My stomach was so round I couldn’t even see my crotch if I wanted to. I was cut, bruised, burnt, and miserable. How older patients tolerated this, is beyond me. I’ve never been one to do sit-ups unless forced or I’m “sitting up” to eat, so the fact that it was so painful was astonishing. It felt like, I had been running and got a side cramp, but all over. Sharp, stabbing, can’t catch your breath pain. 

So after sitting in the PACU for over four hours waiting for a room to open up, I was finally in one. They tossed me in the bed in a similar fashion that baggage handlers toss your luggage. Checked me for bed sores...everywhere. Literally, everywhere. Gave me some pain meds, and the rest of the night is a bit fuzzy. Fast forward to about 3:45 AM they came in, stuck me in the arm to draw labs, and the nurse informed me it was time to clean my catheter. Let me set the stage for you. 4AM, groggy on pain meds, hugely distended stomach, pain. My stomach was so big I couldn’t even see my crotch, let alone be responsible for my own catheter care. It was like a game of pin the tail on the donkey. I honestly don’t even know if I got it. In fact, I’m pretty sure I didn’t. 

The rest of the hospital stay was pretty uneventful. Aside from being in constant gas pain without being able to pass any, I survived. Oh, and to come full circle, when the nurse finally removed my catheter I definitely peed all over...didn’t even try to stop it, just let it happen. 

All in all I’d have to say the whole experience was pretty miserable, and I’ve signed myself up to do it again on March 22. On a side note, I’m pretty sure this is going to work...because with this much pain, it had better. 

The difference between the No. 1 and No. 2 cancer hospital in America and why it matters

Most people assume MD Anderson and Memorial Sloan Kettering are basically the same. They are both ranked No. 1 on different lists, but the distinction actually matters when you are choosing where to get treated.

Here is the breakdown:

MD Anderson, Houston, TX, is No. 1 on U.S. News 2025-2026. It has held this ranking for 11 consecutive years and 21 of the last 24. It is the world’s largest cancer-only center, treating patients from all 50 states and 130 countries. Its strengths include the highest procedure volume in the country, early-phase clinical trials, and rare and complex cancer types.

Memorial Sloan Kettering, New York, NY, is No. 2 nationally on U.S. News, but in 2026 Newsweek named it the No. 1 oncology hospital in the world. MSK has supported clinical trials behind 11 FDA-approved cancer drugs. Its strengths include genomic medicine, cancer screening, and nursing excellence.

Dana-Farber Brigham Cancer Center in Boston is No. 3 and has been ranked for 25 consecutive years. It is especially strong in blood cancers such as leukemia, lymphoma, and myeloma, as well as gynecologic cancers.

Mayo Clinic in Rochester is No. 4. It is known for its integrated care model, where oncology, surgery, radiology, and pathology review every case together before deciding on treatment.

Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston is No. 5 and is recognized for clinical trial access and innovation.

One key fact many people do not know is that only 57 out of 1,500 US cancer centers have NCI Comprehensive Cancer Center designation, the highest recognition a cancer center can earn. All of the hospitals above hold this status.

Forgot to mention in the video. If cancer is on the left side, when tilting your head back to gargle, also tilt your head to the left and make sure the baking soda salt water is hitting the area that stings. This helps to prevent the stinging afterwards by correcting the pH in your mouth.

Hello everyone, sorry for the delay. Bain’s last treatment was July 18, 2025. This was around 4 weeks ago. Radiation continues to burn for two weeks after the last treatment, before healing begins. Follow up appointment will be in mid-Sept to see if the radiation worked.

Changes in hair and food.