14 August 2023. Well, I sort of knew this was coming. The cancer has grown very slightly (only 1mm) but has changed inside and therefore the consultant thinks it's time to repeat the operation I had just over a year ago. Targeted chemo delivered directly to the tumour via a catheter from my groin. Should be being done next month sometime and will be another 2-night stay in hospital in Leeds. Oh the joys...
17 August 2023. Bloody heck that was quick. I now have a date for my op which will be done on Friday 8 Sept. Hey ho here we go..
10 September 2023. Hi all, got back home tea time yesterday. Sore, tired and with a new sporty 8 inch by 2 inch bruise from groin up my side. The procedure this time was performed by a female doctor with an all-female crew helping. The chatter was mainly all about what goes on in the female halls of residence for student nurses. Enough to make your hair curl. Well perhaps not mine, most of which went down the drains in the 1970s...
The procedure went well until I refused to stop bleeding in the recovery room. It had just about stopped and they had called for a porter to trolley me back to the ward. "You can eat and drink but no making merry..." I was told. This came as a blow: the Recovery Room Assistant is the most beautiful girl in the world... The Porter arrived just as I had to cough and the doc took a look and told his assistant "send the porter away, he's going nowhere..." Then concern about a haematoma and more pressure to stem the blood flow. An hour later they called another porter and I coughed again...
The assistant (still the most beautiful girl in the world) exclaimed "Oh my god... do you *like* it down here?" Anyway this time I made it back to my ward but all the bouncing and going over bumps as we moved down corridors from one building to another started it off again. The most beautiful girl in the world had come with me and prodded briefly at a spot that, had it not been for the anaesthetic, I might have found quite interesting - or painful... By now I had missed lunch and a set of meds and was feeling decidedly whoof.
I had to spend one hour flat on my back with no movement, never a good position for an asthmatic. Another hour propped up at 45 degrees - still no moving and then able to sit in chair but not move much and if loo was needed I had to hold the incision point to put pressure on. Try going to the loo and holding your groin at the same time...
Tea time came and I tried my best. Took first pill, swigged a slurp and threw up all over the place. Another night came of beeps, clatters and someone shouting "Help! Help!" A family in the next room was sitting over a dying relative and arguing about who should get what... Yep... They actually tried to shoo a doctor out who had come to see how the patient was doing. "We are trying to have a meeting in here!" an indignant voice came. I'm glad to say the doctor shooed them out instead, but they were soon back and yakking as loud as ever, shouting at each other where there was a particularly desirable heirloom to be gained. You could almost see the tombstone: "Here lies xxxxx. His last words were "Will you just XXXX Off!"
I was experiencing what I hoped was horrendous heartburn. I went looking for a nurse and asked for some antacids. "I'll have to check with your nurse..." An hour later (2.30am) I rang my alarm bell. Same one appeared. Probably a nursing asst. "All the nurses were busy... I will go to see again now..." My notes must say I have angina and heart problems, so how is this not urgent? Half an hour later I press alarm again and just ask for a glass of milk which wonder of wonders arrives in about ten minutes. Settles me down enough to get a bit of sleep until a distant voice cries "Help!" Help! I'm pi**ing myself!" Well do it quietly, Wet Legs, I'm trying to get a wink of sleep in here...!
Saturday I have all the usual tests done, blood sugar, pressure, pulse and temps. For the latter they put a clamp on your ear. I measure high. "I've been lying on that side," I say. It's only about 5.30 so I've only had 2 hours sleep at most. The other ear measures perfectly. It is gone dinner time before a doc comes to confirm if I can go home. Son in law Eddie brings Fran and I totter to the car and get in, gracefully banging my head on the door frame. And now home being nursed by Miss Franny with the added entertainment of being able to watch my side flutter as nerves jump and hold battles inside... I'm back folks. No driving or athletics until Wednesday and I need to get to the GP in the week to have liver blood tests done to send to Leeds. Another MRI in 6 weeks. Hooray for the good guys!
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