My Lung Cancer Surgery Journey, part 1

“After taking a bullet in the belly (radical prostatectomy prostate cancer surgery 2009) I’d only undergo another surgery if it were life and death.” -Chris Hennessy HennSchtick Pds.

Hey gang! This is the first in a series of four HennSchtick issues (articles) in the next six weeks. ‘My Lung Cancer Surgery Journey’ is a story I had to tell. Please feel free to share my unthinkable journey.

What You Don’t Want to Believe is Unbelievable

Within two weeks in early April, four and three-quarters liters of murky, satanic fluid from the depths of hell were siphoned from my being. Pleural effusion returned and invaded my left lung with vengeance like a viscous lava dome that exploded out of an erupting volcano—after giving me a break since July, 2024.

I wished, prayed, and believed my breathing break bliss would never end. Dangit.

Clearly, something more permanent was needed.

The Next Step: Lung Cancer Surgery

Betsy and I decided on surgery to place a PleurX catheter into the lung so we could drain the poison juice at home instead of trip after trip to the pulmonologist’s office for thoracentesis. In case of an emergency build-up, I wouldn’t need to rush to the emergency room or Doctor Patel’s office. 

Ravaged Man Makes it through Lung Cancer Operation (Tuesday, April 29)

I was able to achieve a comfortable, confident, calm state of mind by being myself. Pre-surgery, my surgeon, Doctor Mojiddi, came to the waiting area and quickly wrote something on my left shoulder. I was thinking, “Surgery on the correct lung is good.”

He turned and walked away, and I said as if I really meant it, “I’m never again going to wash that shoulder.” His shoulders shrugged up and down as he walked away, chuckling.

The anesthesiologist arrived. “Will anesthesia cause amnesia?” I asked, joking.

“You’ll wake up with no recollection of me or surgery,” he said and winked.

“Surgery?” I asked, as if completely surprised. “I had a tanning booth appointment. I need to…” Then the darkest dark darkened everything as my brain was knocked unconscious.

Doctor Mojiddi proceeded to knife me twice in the chest, and then he accomplished a successful, delicate operation.

When I woke up, I noticed the anesthesiologist. “Who are you?” I asked, then smiled. He winked.

We got home late that Tuesday afternoon, and I was able to rest restfully. All was fine. Thank you, God, for Betsy and Hannah, my two angels who love me like our best doggie Piper does.

A Sutter nurse will come to the house on Saturday, May 3, and show us how to use the tube protruding from my chest to drain the fluid.

Three days Post-Surgery (Friday, May 2)

I was thrilled to be able to present an hour-long speech on Friday morning at Sacramento Writers and then watch my daughter, Hannah, kick butt at the Regionals Gymnastics Championships that evening in nearby Roseville.

Before the gymnastics awards ceremony, I stepped out into the pleasant evening, glowing with soft, ethereal light—streetlamps casting warm amber and a clear starry sky above. My groovy energy flow reeked of a creative project that needed to come out. I dreamed up a song and whistled joyfully as I trekked a half-mile loop in my own personal heaven. (see the whistling video below)

My spirit soared, and I felt happy times infinity. The melody was swirling throughout my mind, morphing from far inside this real n nowhere man. It was a simple tune of pure joy—I’d whistle a few bars, pause to adjust a note here or there, then start again. I whistled it several times, perfected it, and named it “Happy,” a personal anthem for this impossible, beautiful evening where everything felt possible again.

Hannah (on the right) medaled at Regionals, which made me even happier and prouder.

Hann put it all together and peaked at the right time. When they called out, “Hannah Hennessy to accept her medal for floor excellence, I jumped out of my seat, ultra happy.

Mom, Hannah, and I enjoyed every bite of our In & Out burgers and yummy fries with Diet Coke before heading east on I-80, homeward bound.

What surgery? What a day! What a life!

And in the End

The 2nd issue in the four-part series will be emailed in approximately. 1-2 weeks:

My Lung Cancer Surgery Journey, part 2, My Deadly Post-Op Infection Nightmare: How a routine recovery became a life-threatening emergency."