Cancer: The First Procedure, August 2022.

After first being told I definitely had cancer on my liver, just four weeks later I was once more heading to Leeds St James Hospital for a TACE procedure. TransArterial ChemoEmbolization is a method of blocking the blood supply to the tumour(s) in the hope of destroying or shrinking them. I have two tumours in different segments of the liver, one was very large (over six centimetres) and the other was just one centimetre.

10 August 2022. I was admitted the night before the procedure and the first thing they did after telling me they had to take my bag of tablets away for safekeeping was to lose them... Luckily they had most of what I needed to take in the hospital pharmacy.

I was put into a ward with just two beds. The occupant of the other had had a chunk of his bowel removed that day and was obviously in pain over which he was swearing non-stop. At the point where he flailed about so much he fell out of bed they moved me into a single room saying that a large number of new intakes were coming in and I needed to rest before my op which would be early tomorrow morning.

Here I am at 6:00am having had my morning quota of pills brought. I'm told it might now be 10:00am before I am taken down for my op. In the event it was 4:00pm in the afternoon when someone came in to push my bed down a surprising number of corridors and into a room with a table under a large machine that I was told was an X-Ray machine. There seemed to be an awful lot of nurses all sounding young and waiting for me to be transferred onto the table.

The nurses were there to prep me, to monitor my readings - blood pressure, heart rate and so on whilst the procedure took place. They were very jolly...
"Give him a pair of orange shorts!" came a cry and once I had landed on the table, I was undressed - a folded towel was placed over my pride and joy with an apologetic murmer. "I'll have to brush this area with antiseptic though..." So I got a pair of orange shorts... the antiseptic is a vivid orange colour, deliberately so that it is obvious if anywhere that should be treated has not been. This would not be washed off afterwards - it stays on until the patient is able to shower or wash. Even then it takes a few goes...

Two doctors came in. They would do th eoperation with the nurses monitoring screens of various information. I was told I had to lie completely still as the X-Ray machine would move around me as the operation progressed. The X-Rays would be bombarding me non-stop for about an hour enabling the surgeon to see where the catheter was within my arteries on it's way from my groin to my liver. I was given a local anaesthetic jab low down and the needle went in between leg and - well... you know! Then the catheter was inserted. The rest was an unbelievable experience.

They had said the X-Ray machine would move around me. It moved fast! And not only around me; it moved towards and away from me also. They had taken my glasses off and told me to keep my head still no matter what. Then they had put protective goggles over my eyes. The machine actually came so close that it pressed on the edge of the goggles at one point. One doctor was manouvring the catheter, whilst the other watched the screen and was saying things like, "Take that one on the left. No... back up... yes, that one!" whilst also giving instructions to one of the girls who was controlling the movements of the X-Ray machine.

Once in the right position a foam barrier was squirted into the liver to protect as much of the healthy tissue from the chemo as possible. Then the chemo capsule was sent through which would slowly release chemicals to hopefully shrink the tumour over the course of a year. Results would be tested by MRI every few months.

I was eventually moved from the table to my mobile hospital bed. The two doctors had spent 20 minutes each putting as much pressure on the wound at the entry point as possible to stem the flow of blood. This involved one hand over the wound, the other on top of it and them leaning to use their body weight to put pressure on. Without the anaesthic they had used earlier that would have hurt a lot. I was taking blood thinners - I'm a bleeder! They were knackered after 20 minutes each. I could reach so I offered to take over myself and after another ten minutes, by which time I was knackered, they called a porter to take me back to my room.

One of the nurses came with me to make sure the bleeding had stopped. It was now 20 past six. I had been down there two hours and 20 minutes. I still wasn't allowed to move until 7:30pm in case I re-opened the wound. The wound was dressed and checked regularly for the rest of that day. Someone came to take my blood pressure and pulse rate and temperature every 15 minutes which I found was to go on throughout the night. They brought me a sandwich to eat. I had a few mouthfulls, took my pills... and promptly brought the lot back up.

12 August 2022. I had been told I could go home the day after the op if I was ok. I made blooming sure of it. I was up at 7:30am, hobbling on my stick to the bathroom for a wash and shave - no shower allowed as the dressing had to be kept dry. Then I walked up and down at intervals, slowly at first, but each time making sure that people at the ward desk could see that I was up, dressed and mobile. Nobody came anyway except the nurses to take blood pressure, pulse etc.

At around 2:00pm I was told I could call someone to take me home. I gave Fran a ring. "We are almost there," she said. David and Jeannie were driving her over to bring me back but the motorway had been a nightmare of queues and stationary traffic. Once they had arrived I was told I couldn't go until the pharmacy had released my medication. We waited for a couple of hours. Then I was told It could take another two hours... When I asked what medication I was told "Paracetamol". As if that was something that had to be released on prescription. I already had some at home. I told them I wasn't going to hold up my friends and wife and myself for two hours for paracetamol and that I was going home, which in anycase was a two-to-three hour journey back. "Well, we'll have to post it out to you!" Was that meant to persuade me? We left. Well over three years later I'm still waiting for the postman to bring them...

13 August 2022. Woke up to find orange shorts marred by vivid purple bruises from front to back across my bum and heading up to lower back. As the operation meds had by now worn off I was aching quite severely. I had some twinges and soreness and the journey from Leeds to Blackpool had inevitably contributed as we passed over potholes etc. For the first time I had to use my walking stick to potter about the house, but there was an improvement in mobility this morning if not in discomfort... Worst thing was compression stocking - heels bruised and one had bled but that would soon cure itself. I Have to take things easy for a week or so. A big thank you to the medical team and nursing staff at Leeds St James, they were fabulous.

14 August 2022. From my diary: Oof! Yesterday was difficult - some soreness at puncture wound and bruising crept throughout the day from there up torso. Dull ache rather than full-on pain. There were quite a number of twinges that made me gasp and groan but worst was that I had tested my already bad back on the long drive home and must have had to lean on my stick much more heavily - so I've thrown my shoulder out... That is the worst of the pain and by evening I gave in and actually had a couple of paracetamol, I could cope with everything else.

Today I can move far more easily, which I'm glad for, because the shoulder is likely to be ghastly for a couple of days and the puncture wound is mainly ok, the soreness now has worked into the liver. Coughing is an experience... Strangely I keep wanting to stroke my hospital tags down my arms, despite them coming off Friday night! I can still feel them. ("Them" because when I was admitted, a nurse said "Any allergies?" and I said "yes, cat fur..." and instead of thinking there were no cats in the hospital, he just stuck a second tag on my spare wrist which I found out later was an allergy marker, so from then on all the doctors and nurses were asking what I was allergic to...) I'm ok, but of course the cancer is still there, this is a treatment not a cure. Onwards and upwards...

To come in future articles. The affect of the TACE operation. A repeat op. The affect of that. Radiotherapy sessions at The Christie Hospital in Manchester. Side effects cause leg ulcers. And more...

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