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I
went into the operating room at 6:30 a.m. When I woke up
in the recovery room, it was dark. Even though I was very
groggy I could tell things weren't going too well for me.
Not only were my head and back in bandages, but my entire
chest was wrapped in gauze and completely covered with tape.
I remember thinking, "Doyle, there's something awfully
wrong." Louise was there at my side telling me everything
was going to be all right, but I knew she was trying to
hide something. I was in a lot of pain, and the drugs they
kept feeding me kept me fairly stupified for the next few
days.
I remained in the hospital for quite a while. My relatives
and friends were always coming by to see how I was doing.
That was a comfort.
Still, nobody had the courage to tell me what the real situation
was. The only thing I knew was that I was going to be taken
for further study to the Cancer Center at M. D. Anderson
Hospital in Houston. What I had not been told was that when
the doctors opened me up, they found massive cancer spread
throughout my body.
It had reached close to the base of my brain, and my chest
and stomach area were riddled with it. Four surgeons had
been called in and they all agreed that it was useless to
proceed.
The cancer had attacked so much of my body that it was only
a matter time before I died. I was a big dog to live longer
than four months.
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