Sunday 30 April 2006 - Ouch!

Yesterday, because it is sometimes hard not to be able to pick our daughter up, I picked her up. And that was really painful!
Today I really needed the painkillers.

Friday 28 April 2006

Despite this blog, my willingness to talk about my illness, if asked, and the wealth of information available via the web and other resources it is still very much a personal thing to deal with, since we all react differently to being told we have Cancer and how we cope with it thereafter.

I have found it therapeutic to blog about my cancer during this recent encounter with the disease and searching the web for other blogs has helped to keep it all in perspective. I am also helped by the fact that this is not the first time I have had cancer and I know what to expect. I am hoping because of that previous knowledge that I do not have to undergo chemotherapy again, but hey they have told me things have improved in the last 14 years: Not according to this blog it hasn’t, which goes to prove that too much reading is not all always a good thing!

In the meantime as well as coping with the return of the disease I have to recover from the surgery, which was particularly painful yesterday and I can only surmise that I overdid the walk yesterday morning.

It may also have something to do with the fact that I was busy watching the workman who had come to install a new fireplace in the lounge and I was forever in and out of the room monitoring his progress.

Friday 28 April 2006 - Looking for links

I first began this blog as an aid for me to look back and reflect on all that I had gone through whilst dealing with Cancer. I failed to keep a diary of any kind during my skit with cancer in 1992/1993, which I deeply regret.

I also thought it may help others with cancer and I had hoped that comments would be exchanged between fellow cancer sufferers, patients, friends and families alike. Unfortunately, most of the cancer related sites kept by individuals seemed to be abandoned, like the old ghost towns in movie Westerns.

I began to wonder why they were no longer updated. Had they became too ill or lost their fight against the disease? I hoped not.

I will have to do another search and find some fellow sufferers.

However I will continue to keep my blog to whatever conclusion that may be, and the prognosis is good.

In the meantime if you pass this way please leave a comment.

Thursday 27 April 2006 – The Results

It was strange being back at the hospital again today. I saw lots of familiar faces, one of which was the guy who had came on my Ward for the same reason I had been admitted, his operation had been cancelled on the day of my departure and his was still there two weeks later.

We waited to see the Doctor for an hour, playing eye-spy as we had done so a few weeks earlier. How sad can two adults get playing kiddy games, but what else is there to do? No I am not up to that just yet!
We were expecting a wait as this appointment was out of his usual consultation hours, he was between theatre, which meant some poor sod was being operated on.

We never really learned much more than I had been told unofficially yesterday. Disappointingly the lung cancer was a secondary from bone cancer I’d had 14 years previous.

I can expect an appointment for an x-ray to check my chest from an operation procedural viewpoint, but the decision for further treatment rests with the specialist hospital that treated me in 1992. We will have to wait around for a few more weeks before knowing if there is to be any follow-up Chemotherapy. I have some stories to tell about that and most of it unpleasant.

Tracy Vein will continue to be my point of contact and will ensure my case is followed up and I am kept informed of any new developments.

The support I have received from both the Tracey’s and the Surgeon has been fantastic.

Just a thought - 14 years ago I wish I had asked to kept the portion of distal ulna bone removed from my right wrist, it would have made and interesting key fob. I have thought better of asking for the portion of lung removed with a view to making purse for my loose change.

Thursday 27 April 2006 – Phone calls yesterday

Yesterday an appointment was made for today at 01.30 pm to see the consultant, this followed a message I had left on his secretaries answer phone requesting an update on the analysis following my operation.

I also spoke to Tracey Vein from the local hospital who filled me in on the latest developments. Unbeknown to me the consultant had been to the local hospital with my notes to discuss my case, it transpires that the tumour in my lung may be related to the tumour I had in my arm 14 years ago! That makes the lung cancer I have been operated for a secondary, which will probably change the course of treatment I may now receive.

Following further phone calls from the doctors secretary it appears they are now trying to contact the hospital I attended 14 years ago to formulate a plan of action to combat this latest skirmish with Cancer.

Thursday 27 April 2006 - Unfinished?

It was about now, as I was getting nearer to getting this Blog up to date and thinking of rounding it all up with good news and getting back to Moaning on my original Blog, when I realised that I may not be done just yet.

Monday 24 April – Physiotherapist

The visit to see a Physio at the local hospital proved to be well worth the effort. I was shown simple but effective exercises and given a respiratory piece of apparatus to take home with me to monitor and improve my breathing. I was also booked in for another visit with a view to joining a respiratory class later on next month. Now this is my idea of after care.
Many thanks to Tracey V and H for arranging.

Sunday 15 April 2006 - Walk

The longest walk, 1/2 mile, I have taken so far and boy did it hurt. I had to stop a couple of times on the road home the pain was quiet severe.

A problem of not having seen a Physiotherapist despite requesting to see one was not knowing how much or little to do in the form of exercise. Was I doing enough or too much?

This morning’s walk just proved to me that I had been right in asking to be given advice in this department and it came with as a relief that one of the Tracy’s managed to get me into see a Physio at my local hospital on Monday 24 April.

Sunday 15 April 2006 - Home visit

Had home visit from District Nurse who came to take stitches out from my hernia operation? That was a part of my past medical history, no mention of previous Cancer treatment at all. Anyway, I had the stitch, quite an unusual one apparently, taken from where the drain had been. It was uncomfortable and I was glad to get it out.

Later that night in bed it felt as though I had been pinned to the bed with an arrow through the place where the drain once was.

Tuesday 11 April 2006 - Home

Despite repeated requests to see a Physiotherapist to instruct me upon breathing techniques and exercises I did not see anyone. I never even got to do the stair test as promised, even though I have done them another twice unaided and unaccompanied.

The after care at the hospital was somewhat lacking to say the least. I was discharged from the hospital and with a little trepidation, but with a great deal more relief to be out of there we left for home.

Monday 10 April 2006 - Surprise visits

Today I had my Drain taken out, and boy-O-boy was that painful, but only fleetingly. I feel much better now that I am able to walk about again. All I need now is a visit from the Physiotherapist and I will be ready for home I reckon.

I had been told that I would have to do the ‘stairs’ test to make sure I was able to walk up a small flight of stairs before I leave the hospital. I got fed up of waiting for someone to take me and tried it for myself, no problem.

Both Traceys, Vein and Hair, came to see me today and being nurses they were able to view my notes and talk to the staff in the hospital, it was really good to see familiar faces in uniform.

I had a nice surprise at visiting time today not only did my Mother come along but she was also accompanied by one of my two elder brothers who, despite his own ill health, had travelled up from the South to see me.

Unfortunately, his ex-father in law was on the ward above mine and was not to be with us much longer, fortunately my brother got to visit him also for one last time.

Still no signs of a Physio for me yet.

Sunday 9 April – Evening feelings

I had some really strange feelings this evening: basically I wanted to walk, no idea where to or for how long. I would not get very far as I still have the drain in my back; despite wearing the regulation bed ‘tights’ I have one swollen ankle; and bruised arm; yet I still want to walk out of the front door to the hospital and just keep on walking.

Sunday 9 April 2006

The usual day-shift crew of nurses are in today, thankfully not tomorrow as it is a bank holiday and they will be off, things are looking up. The atmosphere is frosty: I guess this has something to do with comments left on Friday/Saturday morning with reference to the level of care and pain relief I received.

There is a trainee nurse who is under the supervision of the hairdresser nurse and will, if not careful, end up worrying about herself more than her patients who shows some concern but without any sincerity.

Lunchtime visitors included two female friends from work, including my best friend, who bring with them a card signed by colleagues and a rather large basket of fruit.

Both evening and daytime visitors include all of my daughters at one or both of the visiting sessions and, without fail, my partner at both.

Saturday 8 April 2006 - Excellent care

I received the best day care thus far since arriving at the hospital. A nurse, who only works 3 days a week, probably via an agency, came in and turned the whole experience of being in hospital upon its head: she was brilliant.

I must begin by saying that for the first time a nurse, other than the one I encountered on night-shift, let us know what was going to happen that morning and the order it was to be done in: she was friendly, without being over familiar, and so efficient she could teach most nurses a thing or two about patient care.

She ensured we were all offered one form or other of personal cleaning: I accepted and welcomed the offer of an assisted shower; it was wonderful to feel so much cleaner than a bed wash. One of the occupants of our bay who would probably benefit most from a shower declined and chose to wash himself from a bowl, but at least this option was open to him too.

I really felt cared for and was ready to face the day and a visit from my mother and sister.
Later that evening my two daughters both came to visit.

In addition to Get Well cards all my daughters had left a picture of themselves to go with the one my partner bought of our little one.

Friday 7 April - Relief

I have my family visiting me this morning; this includes one of my daughters and my step-daughter.
It is good to see family during times such as these and I can only feel sorry for those who do not receive visitors, I am truly lucky. If you know someone who is in hospital and is not well supported then please go visit them NOW.

Despite numerous requests for something to replace the PCA in the way of painkillers I am given nothing stronger than Paracetamol, which, given all that had been said before hand, would obviously not be enough to quell the pain. As the day wore on the pain got worse. When my evening visitors came, by sister, brother-in-law and partner, I was in an awful amount of discomfort.
It was not until they asked me to move further down the Ward to another bay that I lost my ‘rag’. I was expected to walk two bays down from the one I was currently in, which I did not have a problem with, but when I was reprimanded for not walking upright I lost it and gave the matron that suggested I walk upright such a tirade of abuse I even surprised myself.

The atmosphere changed a little, you could cut the atmosphere with a knife: the pain relief however remained the same.

Once more it was the night-shift who came to my rescue and they promised to get my pain relief under control again and leave words for the dayshift highlighting the poor level of care I had received throughout the day. It was of no surprise to the nightshift that the ‘hairdresser’ nurse was responsible for my day care, and therefore my current condition.
As the pain relief kicked in during the night I felt so much better, however I was not looking forward to tomorrow when the day-shift returns.

My night-nurse savior managed to discreetly turn of the oxygen supply without my noticing in the early hours of the morning, which would aid my ability to become less dependant upon it for breathing. Thereafter I managed without it with no difficulty.

Friday 7 April - There goes the pain relief

The real pain began when the PCA on my wrist began to malfunction: not surprising when you consider the trouble I have had with my right arm since the removal of a tumour on the ulna bone, and its subsequent removal [both tumour and half of ulna] 14 years ago.

The veins had decided it was time to pack up again and it was not going to play ball, I wish they had put it further up my arm as I had requested. As I attempted to administer some pain relief by pressing the button on the PCA I felt the resistance in the vein: I just knew it had malfunctioned.

As you can see from this photo, taken by my daughter whilst I was asleep, the arm was somewhat bruised by either the anesthetists failure to find a vein during the operation or as a result of the problem with the PCA [probably the latter].
If you are going through cancer yourself and are reading this then please take heart, I have a 're-engineered' right arm that was operated on with tremendous success in the early 90's which does not help matters. I only print this now because it is relevant to me.

Thursday 6 April 2006 - Night, night

The night-shift went really well, it was nice and comforting knowing that the girls sat at their desk were no more than a stones throw away, not that I could throw a stone very far right now.

Despite having the ‘watch’ [PCA] it was a little more uncomfortable than I would have liked so I was given a suppository by one of the nurses to help ease the pain and instructed that under no circumstance was I to feel the pain and suffer in silence.

I slept well thereafter.

Partners comments upon visit

I arrived at the hospital expecting to see Paul in a very sorry state. To my surprise he seemed remarkably well although in a lot of pain. He was attached to a monitor, had an oxygen tube under his nose and had the morphine “watch” on his right hand. He drifted in and out of sleep and insisted on apologising every time he woke up again. I had taken a list of text messages he had received from friends and family wishing him well, and some cards which I left for him to read when he was more awake.

Having read the comments my partner has made I can remember the coming in and out of sleep now. The oxygen under the nose, which I’d also forgotten about, was well good, it really helped with the breathing.

Thursday 6 April - Post Operative, who cares?

Naturally I do not remember much about the rest of Thursday after the Operation but I do know that things are not as good as they could be.
I have not been place in the HDU (high dependency unit), I can only assume this is because the operation went very well or there is not enough staff to cover this additional unit. I am however nearer to the nurses’ desk where they can keep and eye on me. But here is the point, even though I am nearer the desk the degree of care seems to have waned a little, not just for myself but for other patients too.
Firstly there is an older gentleman who is bought into the bay who is visited by whom I assume is his wife and a grandchild. All seems normal and I assume he is just another patient on the mend. After his visitors have gone his mental health seems to worsen a little. He begins to hallucinate by pretending to drink from a non-existent cup or smoke some kind of pipe. He stumbles to and from the toilets alone on a couple of occasions and even tries to get himself dressed to leave; he has no comprehension of where he is or why he is in hospital.
A nurse, whom I shall named Thorn, first became known to me during this period of time. She was slim, attractive and totally unsuited to the nursing profession. Looking back and describing her to others now I have likened her to being a hairdresser. I apologise to all hairdressers now, but her only concern appeared to be her next holiday, he failed love life and her lonely lifestyle. If it was not for the drugs I was on at the time I could have swore she even hit on me as a potential date!
Nurse Thorn paid little attention to the needs of the patient from where I was lying which became apparent when she was giving a tablets to the gentleman mentioned above. As she placed a tablet upon his tongue she became distracted by another nurse and she left the gentleman to attend another issue she left him with the tablet still upon his tongue; no drink to swallow it with. He was allowed to sit up in bed with no top on, for no apparent reason other than they had not bothered to redress him from his earlier exploits when trying to leave.
He was given a hot cup of tea by nurse Thorn and left to his own devices; I called her back again when he began to drink the tea and ended up spilling more down him than he actually managed to get inside him. He was then given a child’s beaker to drink from which totally bemused his already baffled mind. He then went missing again in the toilet for over 20 minutes alone.
Although I wrote some of this down at the time I will have to speak to my partner as to my own visits because it becomes a little hazy at this point.

Thursday 6 April - And so to sleep

At some stage during the morning I swap the new pyjamas for a theatre gown and the anaesthetist pays me a visit to give me a pre-med (ie pre-medication). A pre-med is a type of sedative that is used to relax a patient before an operation.
I am wheeled down to theatre and remember passing the poor guy’s bed who was still having breathing trouble; and I remember the corridor down the main part of the Ward.
The rooms in and around the operating theatre were old and cold: the secret here is to try and relax and have a laugh and a joke with those around you, especially the anaesthetist. However, on this occasion I was not laughing as they were having trouble finding the veins in my right wrist and even managed to snag a needle on old scar tissue on my left wrist!
I tried to tell them not to bother with the wrist area at all, preferring them to use the upper part of the arm, but as I complained a mask was placed of my face and I was under…

Thursday 6 April 2006 - Operation day

06.00am - Tea and toast

07.20am – Shower

08.00am – Last post Op drink [water]

08.40am – Pandemonium! A patient in the next bay to ours appears to be in serious difficulty. I am unsure if he has had a Cardiac arrest or if he has stopped breathing but staff are arriving in numbers from all over the place. The curtains have gone around his bed but you can hear the concern from those around him. One voice, of a female nurse, could be heard above all the others trying to get him to respond to simple requests in a reassuring manner. I would not have thought this is a usual occurrence in the hospital because of the amount of personnel now surrounding his bed: I can see between a gap in the curtain and the window wall that separates the two bays that there are several people around his bed trying to get him to respond.
He awakes but is unsure of where he is; his eyes must be constantly opening and closing, in and out of consciousness I guess.

09.00am – All the panic, as controlled as it is, appears to be over they are still trying to get the poor man to stay awake.

Meanwhile, I had a visit from the Surgeon, who apologises for not recognising me. I can see no reason why he should remember me, he must see countless other cases, but he is genuinely concerned that I look ‘different’: I assure him it must be the new pyjamas instead of the usual black attire.

I may get called into the theatre earlier than expected [I hope it is not at the expense of the guy in the next bay] and have to sign the consent form for the operation.

The man in the next bay may have had a stroke and it has now been over an hour since he first gave cause for concern: keep fighting mate, stay awake.

It has now been 2 hours and he is still keeping them on their toes.

Wednesday 5 April - Good Night

The night shift arrived: the night shift appear to be a nice bunch of girls, a different breed altogether to the day team I had thus far experienced. Ouch! having said that one of them has just punctured my stomach with a needle containing an anti-clotting solution.

I was taken on a tour of the HDU (high dependency unit) where I should spend the night after my operation: 2 patients to one nurse. I am just beginning to realise how major this procedure is going to be, what with the anaesthetists comments from earlier and now the offer of additional painkillers should the watch ‘thingy’ [PCA].

I think I told my partner and daughter that the HDU was ‘intensive care’: I had better tell them that they may find me in there as a matter of course and not to panic. I am hoping that I don’t get too many visitors tomorrow other than my partner.

I will be encouraged to cough after the procedure and will be able use the PCA to nullify the pain. I am hoping that tomorrow will be nothing but a blur, apart from the tea and toast I am allowed at 06.00 in the morning: after that ‘nil by mouth’. I will get another not drink tonight before retiring to bed.

Already I am missing my family: I was able to phone home after I had the whole procedure explained thoroughly in a very soft and reassuring manner by the night nurse, whose Husband works for the same company that I do and I should know him [which I can later confirm from a photo]. I let it known that I only want one visitor tomorrow.

The night passes without incidence other than the cramps keeping Irish awake.

Wednesday 5 April - I quit

In my corner of the Ward there are four beds in a bay: the other three have been vacated by their occupants as they have been either discharged or moved to another bed. It would appear I have the bay to myself until an Irish fellow is moved into the bed opposite me. He is quietly spoken and ready for bed early but lights will not go out until the nurses have done their rounds for the night. Irish will leave the hospital a few days later without the operation he had hoped for on his heart, he is too old and an operation will not improve the quality of his life.

Today I gave up smoking: two Cancer skirmishes and now watching Irish taking oxygen through a mask has really done it for me this time. Why tobacco companies have never invested more money, or any at all, into the research and development of a harmless smoke I will never know. They would have made a fortune, well from me they would have. Nevertheless, I still believe alcohol and its affects drains more of the NHS resource than ever smoking does. I have never had a few cigars and then wanted to pick a fight with someone, or drove my car under the influence of smoke, resulting in fatalities.

On a scarier note I do recall watching on television, [more years ago than I care to mention], a man who had his leg amputated as a result of a smoking related illness: yet he still refused to quit the weed. Needless to say he eventually lost the other leg too, he would never again hop down to his local shop for his tobacco. I did think at the time of watching it how weak willed he must have been not to quit: and now look at me, I use ‘patches’ 2 years ago to stop smoking cigarettes and then start smoking cigars instead. The trip to a hypnotherapy is yet another whole blog, I really did not get on with being ‘put under’, in fact I was not put under at all and left the hypnotist wanting a cigarette as soon as I was out of her front door.

Wednesday 5 April - Hair today

The chest shaving episode was another fine example of a Woman’s’ inability to differentiate between their, or my, left from right. The Auxiliary nurse given the task of shaving me knew she had to shave the right-hand side of my chest and part of my back, obviously also on my right side.
As she stood facing me as I lay upon the bed she was totally flummoxed as to which side was left and which was right: she turned her back to me and raised her right arm and tried to relate this action to how I was positioned upon the bed. It was no good, she still could not tell which was the right-hand side: I put her out of her misery and pointed to the side she should be shaving.
My daughter had suggested she shave off all of my chest hair. this would ensure the correct side was exposed and that my chest would look aesthetically correct. My partner wanted to know if she could do shave the hairs from my ears whilst she has got the shaver out.
Why do we get hairier as we get older? I am obviously talking about men, especially in the ear department.
Saying goodbye to everyone after visiting time was particularly difficult this evening: again I felt myself welling up inside. As I watched them alight from the front of the building onto the pavement below my window they frantically searched the bank of windows before them for me. I resorted to waving out of the window, as did countless of other patients, until they spotted me. I suddenly realised how hard it must be for prisoners to wave goodbye to loved ones and sweethearts.
I had more questions to answer from one of the Staff Nurses: I am sure I had already been asked these questions at least twice during the day. I am issued with a body was and a nasal cream to stave off MRSA.

Wednesday 5 April - Pain: Optional?

Bloody hell, I very nearly missed my first hospital food, not a wise thing to do because you never know what is going to be on the trolley get what you can, when you can and eat whatever you can: chicken soup, beef sandwiches, cheese and biscuits.
I had my weight measured and answered more questions.
From my prime window seat I could see the visitors begin to arrive and managed to spot my partner and our daughter and one of my daughters from my previous marriage.
My visitors have come and gone: it was lovely to see them and I could not wait so I went and greeted them as they waited in The Hub for the doors to be opened. During their visit 18.30 – 20.00 ‘Two visitors per bed’, they witnessed my chest being shaved, blood pressure being taken, a trip to the x-ray department [despite conflicting opinions as to whether another one was required or not] and a bedside visit by the anaesthetist, who went into great detail of how the operation was possibly one of the most painful a person could have. This graphic detail did not go down too well with my daughter: I had told her this operation would be quite routine and I would be up and about in no time at all.
The anaesthetist discussed the various options of pain relief post operative; he informed me my preferred option of pain relief using tablets would not be an option as it would require something a little stronger.
I am sure he mentioned an epidural as an option, but dismissing this and the use of an intravenous drip I opted for a PCA (patient controlled analgesia). I am reluctant to have a drip placed in my right arm since the operation upon it and the chemotherapy my arms and wrists do not take to well to needles. I like the sound of using a PCA, whereby you can increase the amount of pain relief you get receive by pressing a button on the PCA pump: it will be worn on the wrist like a ‘watch’. I will no doubt let you know how I get on with the watch ‘thingy’ later.

Wednesday 5 April - Question time

My time on the hospital bed began with numerous questions, most of which I could not remember the answer to, or the short sequence of events that led to me being here. I should have pointed the nurse asking the questions in the direction of this Blog or printed it out prior to my admittance into hospital.
I then received more questions from an Assistant Consultant, and from the answers I gave he must have wondered what I was doing in hospital
‘Coughing Phlegm?’
‘No’
‘Blood’
‘No’
‘Chest pains?’
‘No’
‘Shortness of Breath?’
‘No’
And on it went: more questions, more answers in the negative. I began to feel like a fraud. I would have begun to doubt my own illness had I not seen the x-rays and CT scan images. It really was there and it measured somewhere in the region of 3cm x 4cm, was this a 2D tumour, where was the third dimension?
He had not seen any results from the PET scan.
He examined me externally – even mentioning my ‘man’ breasts. At this point I should point out that they do not require a bra, they are not too big and I have had them since my last Chemotherapy treatment some 14 years ago. They had not increased in size recently and had not become more or less sensitive. Although having increased sensitivity was a bonus when I had the Chemo and for sometime thereafter, that is another story and not one for Blogging.
I really do wish I had printed the sequence of events out as I was again asked questions on my short journey from having a cough at the end of last year to being in hospital now.
More MRSA swabs to be taken as those done at the local hospital would no longer be valid: this time I got to do both nose and groin swabs myself.
I was told no more questions for now and a senior consultant was on his way around the wards. I tried to write from memory the sequence of events I would inevitably be asked again.
One of my pet hates from being in hospital previously is the use of Television sets in shared Wards. I know in other hospitals they have the use of personalised televisions etc, but his one had one annoying set sat on a bracket on the wall and was blaring away to itself, I switched it off.
I sat on the bed in the four bed bay and waited. None of the occupants seemed interested in holding a conversation or watching television.
A very senior looking nurse, dark blue uniform, came to take some blood samples. She was very efficient and friendly and, at the risk of sounding sexist, extremely attractive. To even things up a little, the Assistant Consultant was quite a good looking chap also. Unfortunately this was the last I saw of this particular lovely dark blue uniform as she was due to go on holiday: she was later replaced by a less agreeable dark blue uniform.
The consultant, who arrived with the senior nurse, still had no PET scan results but could confirm that the very fact that I was admitted for an operation meant the results and been good.
I seem to have been left alone for a while since I have managed to log all these thoughts in the four hours since entering the hospital building. Time to get away from the hospital bed, which I am still to lay upon and go look for a cup of coffee.

Wednesday 5 April - And so to bed

We decided to go to the hospital without taking our little girl, she can come a visit her Daddy later when I had settled in.
We arrived at the hospital with plenty of time to spare, always a good ploy since this hospital is notoriously bad for car parking spaces, especially since it is being rebuilt in and around the old one.
Once parked up, as far away from where we needed to be, we proceeded to walk to the main hospital block to Ward C on the third floor at the allotted time of 14.00.
My bed was not ready for me and I would need to book in at reception on the Ground Floor: and whilst we were there we decided to go for a coffee.
We used the lift system, of which there seemed to be many, to return to the third floor, but the habit of nurses to jump up and down in the lift to get them going when they appeared stuck was most disconcerting.
Safely back at the Ward and my bed was still not ready but if we cared to wait in the holding area, The Hub, my named nurse, male, would be with us shortly.
We played eye-spy to pass the time away. As we sat waiting my top lip acquired a quiver I had never known it to have, an involuntary nervous reaction obviously.
‘It has got a real wobble on now’ I said to my partner. She in turn, looking in the direction of a rather large looking member of the hospital staff replied, ‘Yes she has, hasn’t she?’
We both roared with laughter upon realising we were at odds with our wobbles.
It was obvious, despite the unreliability of the lifts, that most of the staff still preferred to use them, and numerous ‘wobbles’ paid testament to that.
Leading off from the Hub were eight lift shafts, six public and two service. Of the six public, two were permanently out of action, and the rest were intermittent to say the least. Of the two service lifts, only one worked. I hoped my family would use the lifts stairs when they came to visit.
We were still in the Hub keeping ourselves amused and being entertained by the lifts one hour later when I sent my partner home, reassuring her I would be alright and that I would see her and our daughter when they returned later. One half an hour after that and I still had not heard from my named nurse, so I picked up my bag and re-entered the Ward. The named nurse had forgotten me: at least my bed was now ready. That was the first and last I saw of my named nurse during my stay in the hospital.
At least I got a window position overlooking the hospital entrance and I would be able to see my partner and daughter arrive later for visiting.

Wednesday 5 April - home

I drove home just wanting to hold our 1 year old daughter in my arms and celebrate the news of the impending operation. Being able to tell my partner over the phone the good news was one thing, being able to share that in person was another.
The house was empty: just a note to say they had taken little to her swimming class with her grandma.
I phoned those who had been waiting upon the results of the PET scan almost as eagerly as we had been: mother, sister.
My partner arrived home: what an emotional relief to a rollercoaster of a few weeks.

Wednesday 5 April 2006

I waited for the phone call from my local hospital, knowing they were meeting the Doctor/Surgeon at 09.00 this morning, I was expecting some serious news today.
As the time grew nearer to 10.00 I began to get even more restless. I wanted the phone to ring yet at the same time I wished that it never would.
At 10.30 I sat in the nearest vacant side office with my mobile phone staring at the screen: nothing. There was still nothing when I eventually returned to my own desk and then, it rang.
It was the Doctor/Surgeon’s secretary: he wished to see me at the hospital today! My heart sank but my spirits were quickly raised when she added ‘for my operation tomorrow’.
Wow, this was it, it was probably a ‘one-off’ occurrence, I now hoped it was as the operation was to be taken as a good sign.
The secretary was not all that clued-up on my case because she ‘had just got back in’, I assumed she meant from a holiday. She did not know the results of the PET Scan but was sure the Doctor would have them for me later. I was to arrive at the hospital this afternoon at 14.00.
I phoned Tracey Vein at my local hospital who said she knew it would be me calling as soon as my call had been put through to her office: she wondered if my ears had been burning since I was the topic of conversation in the office and they were on the verge of calling me. Tracey confirmed that although that they had not seen the actual results of the PET scan they were led to believe that it was in fact good news, all signs indicated there were no other incidences of rogue cells. Tracey wished me good luck and said she may visit me in hospital next week, time permitting.
I could not wait to leave work I just had to get away, the sooner I was gone the sooner this would be over. I needed to make a phone call home and say a few goodbyes first though. I phoned home with the news and then went around the office to say a few goodbyes. It was the handshakes from my male colleagues that bought a lump to my throat not the hug from my female best friend.
I left the office and drove home.

Tuesday 4 April 2006

I seem to be just going through the motions at work, as if I am in limbo, which I guess I am, since at the very least I am expecting to go into hospital for a major operation.

Today I had an unexpected phone call from Tracey V at the hospital today: no real news, just to say my results would be available once they had been signed off by the doctor at the PET scan hospital and then they should be ready for tomorrow when the local consultants discuss my case.

This evening is quite surreal, all around me is as if none of this is happening, I guess at times that can be a good thing, I just want tomorrow to come, but then again I don’t want it to come.

I am concerned about the impact all this, even a relatively short stay in hospital, will have on my family: there is a lot of hard work to come.

Tomorrow is a big day: I just want to be given a date for an operation; I do not want to hear, ‘The doctor wishes to see you’.

Monday 3 March 2006

This morning I went to my local hospital to have an MRSA [methicillin resistant Staphylococcus aureus] swab. This is required before going into hospital for an operation, all being well with the results.

MRSA is a type of bacterium commonly found on the skin and/or in the noses of healthy people – so, if I have it does that mean I am healthy?
Basically I had a very thin looking instrument, similar to a cotton wool bud, placed up my nose to take a sample for analysis.

I also had to take a swab from my ‘groin’ area. Unfortunately Tracey Hair, having taken the nose swab, gave me the option of doing it myself in the nether region – damn! The first chance I get to have a nurse in the vicinity of my undercarriage and she bows out.

I did see both Tracey Hair and Tracey Vein today; they will push for the PET scan results and should phone me Wednesday with any news.

Sunday 2 April 2006

Still getting strange headaches, just hope they are not related to the illness and are caused by stress.

Felt tired today; that may have something to do with the one and half pints of Guinness at lunchtime.

This coming week should have most, if not all, the answers and I am hopeful that I will be in for an operation as early as possible.

Friday 31 March 2006

The PET scan – easy; efficient service with little to no time for questions or answers, but then again that will only come once the results are in.

Will remain toxic until 1.40am tomorrow; at home I get a bed to myself.