Beset by new round of excruciating pain, I escape to Barrow, photograph surfers among whalers and start a new publication
Tuesday, July 31, 2012 at 10:05AM 
It hurt so bad I could hardly speak, because to speak just aggravated the pain. I had almost stopped taking my painkillers altogether over the past several days, but now, while watching the Olympics, I took two painkillers just a little over four hours after having taken two previously.
In time, my eyelids grew so heavy I could keep them open no longer, so I let them close, but could not go to sleep because of the pain. Then, in what seemed to be the most logical transition in the world, I found myself in Barrow carrying my cameras on the bluff overlooking the Chukchi Sea.
It was sunny, the sky was a beautiful pastel blue, bowhead whales swam among huge waves as men in white parkas paddled umiaks after them.
Surfers also rode the waves, which peeled off in beautiful curls. The surfers zipped about among the whales and the whalers, neither disturbing the other, but somehow all merging in perfect harmony as if this was how it had always been.
I went to work with my cameras and got some fantastic pictures, but I had no place to publish them. I had no more Uiniq magazine. I picked up a copy of the Arctic Sounder, the weekly newspaper and paged through it, wondering if I should submit my photos there, but I knew I could never get the kind of display space the pictures merited.
So I decided to start a new publication, all my own. I would do it on a newsprint tabloid format like the Arctic Sounder but I would not concern myself with news. I would just wonder about the Arctic Slope doing stories and photo essays on people and their activities.
I grew very excited and decided to call a friend in Barrow who I thought might be able to help me figure out how to fund such a publication. I hated to think of advertising, but, it seemed to me that advertising would probably be the way to go and I thought with her help we could come up with a bunch of ads really fast and I could get the first issue out within a week or two.
I woke up and picked up my cell phone, ready to call her. Then I realized the Olympics were still on TV, I was still here in my house, recovering in pain from a surgery that may have been fundamentally sound but has since gone awry in so many ways.
I still wanted to call her, to tell her I was going to do this and to elicit her help, but the reality sunk in that it had just been a dream, that it was quite impossible anyway and I would never create such a publication. I set the phone back down.
I did have the CAT scan yesterday. The antibiotics are working, and I probably will not have to have the third surgery, but there is a possibility they may stick a needle into me and drain the larger of the two abscesses. This will not be decided for a few more days yet.
The doctor also examined my long, ugly, chasm-like widening incision, and then tightened up the stitching. In the process, he also tugged on the poker chip-like buttons atop my tummy that connect to the device implanted within by my original doctor, still on vacation, to prevent me from blowing everything out with another cough.
Somehow, this left me in excruciating pain, the very worst pain that I have felt at any time in this process except for those times I was coming out of surgery, the anesthesia was wearing off, and I was waiting for the morphine.
We had planned to stay in Anchorage for a little bit to do a few little things and to pick up Lynxton but the pain was so bad that all we could do was rush straight back to Wasilla where my Vicodin awaited.
The day was one of agony, broken only by a strange dream, and Olympic feats performed by healthy, young, people. Today, the pain remains significant, but I can talk and I see other signs that it may be beginning to subside a bit. Yesterday, I could not have written this at all.
It seems that whenever I appear to be making good progress, a new turn materializes in front of me. It was not supposed to be like this. I will get through it, and even if at the moment it seems to be an interminable process, it will soon be behind me. I will pick up my cameras and I will get back to work.
Reader Comments (10)
Hi! I follow you on twitter & found your great blog. Hope you feel better soon & start your publication! ~FishTaxi
I truly hope that your pain will go away really soon...sending good thoughts
Oh Bill, I wish this surgery hadn't turned into such a nightmare. My thoughts are with you. What a huge burden you have had placed on your shoulders.
I am surprised that you are not in hospital hooked up to an IV drip of strong antibiotics/pain killers!! Seems odd to me that they release you with infected abscesses and infected (?) incision. Due to ongoing excessive pain and suffering, I think the medical folk should excuse all $$$ owed and perhaps, they should actually pay you a little!
I love your blog. I find it beautifully hypnotizing.
May healing come more peacefully to you . . . .
Oh, Bill -- I have no words. Please get healthy and pain free soon. I'm glad you are having good dreams..... Sending good thoughts to Margie who has to watch as you go through this. It's quite humbling to have no control and be powerless.
Bill, I agree with everyone who is saddened by what has happened to you and to Margie. I agree with Nancy and with B. Butler, above. I'm horrified that you're suffering so, and that she has to just watch. I wish I could do more than just wish for you. I hope to God you'll be okay.
Bill, I know your dream experience well as I have always had an amazing ability to come up with "wonderful" solutions to many things in my dreams. Some were surprisingly good ideas, but the majority, usually written down as brilliant solutions to a work issue, were hysterically funny. Yours sounds like a mixture of a good idea & wonderful fantasy. I hope you enjoyed it & will use it to continue to explore other good ideas you've had about your publications. I feel such frustration about not having any resources to help you & Margie. If I had it, I would gladly give it to you, but I'm one who lost most of my savings in 2008 & find myself with the curse of poverty now too.
I'm so sorry to hear about your latest setback with the hideous pain. Life can be so unfair, but you are exceptionally blessed with your wonderful family, friends/fans around the world who care about you both, immense talent that brings joy to so many, and a wonderful cat. I know that doesn't seem as important when facing losing your home of 30 years & unbearably high Hospital bills, but it really is. I can't tell you how strongly I feel your luck will turn around & you'll find just who or what you need to make your dreams come true with all bills paid & your home secure. Did I tell you I'm an optimist? But I believe & I hope you can too. Sending love & positive thoughts & prayers to speed your recovery. Always to you too Margie!!
Yes, you will! The fierce optimism and dream plans in the midst of your extreme circumstances is your light at the end of the tunnel. Keep focused. Keep experiencing it all. You seem to be an individual who can process and redeem all things, good and otherwise. Trouble doesn't immobilize you, it activates your mind and survival skills. It is what it is. Challenging but not defeating. You are amazing, your family and life are amazing, even your buttoned up tummy is amazing, Your spirit and photographer's eye, your ability to describe the world of your experience for others in words and film (oops, showing my age) will only be greater for all these damnable experiences. Continue to get well. Everything will be a piece of cake after this ordeal.
Fish Taxi - I had not tweeted in quite a long time even though I have been posting. I guess I had better try to make a habit of tweeting every post.
Twain - Me too, Thank you.
ManxMama - It is a burden. To know you and others are sending good thoughts does help.
B.Butler - I am glad I am not in the hospital, but it sure would be nice if they would excuse it. I don't expect that to happen, though.
Annette - I like that. It's a description of my blog I had read before.
Nancy - Yes - this powerless stuff is something else. And yes, Margie has been amazing.
Deven - I will be, but it is taking longer than I had been led to believe it would and given how I feel today compared to one month ago... I think it's going to take quite awhile yet.
Katz - You are an optimist. I am too, even now - but a bit of a worried optimist. We will see where things go. I hope you are right. Thanks for the encouragement.
GrK - right on!