I've thought long and hard about this, but have decided to share some recent diary entries with you.
12th March, 10.30 - Go to medical centre and have routine blood test for diabetic check; nurse spots the angry red itchy rash at the bottom of my right arm and makes an appointment with the doc at 5pm the same day.
12th March, 17.00 - See doc, who prescribes penicillin, special soap, skin cream and strong steroid ointment. He asks if I have any other problems and I mention one or two toiletry issues. Before I realise what's happening, he dons plastic gloves, pokes his fingers up my backside and refers me to the bum department at Salisbury Horsepiddle.
22nd March, 11.00 - Have barium enema (*knock knock* - is that a friend or an enema? The old ones are the best) which, if you weren't aware, is quite horrible.
22nd March, 15.00 - Hospital rings to say I have to go back and see the consultant surgeon - "there's a problem".
26th March, 10.30 - See consultant (she is a very lovely person, by the way) who says there is a tumour lurking in the lower bowel and it is cancerous (how did I know she was going to tell me that?). Best case scenario - we cut the little bastard out and rejoin the bowel, but first I must have scans to find out if it has spread to other organs.
1st April, 11.00 - Have MRI and CT scans and spend the days following in a hell in which I am convinced that every spot, mole, ache and pain is raging cancer.
8th April, 12.30 - Consultant tells me it hasn't spread. Am a bit relieved. I then have an examination and biopsies under anaesthetic to determine whether or not the best case scenario mentioned earlier can happen. The consultant comes to the recovery ward to tell me that it can. I kiss her - I did ask permission first.
15th April, 12.00 - I now have a date for the operation - 26th April - and, today, the consultant fills me in on what will happen. I will have to have one of them bags (*groan*) but only for a temporary period and, possibly chemotherapy afterwards. I then go to see one of the stoma care nurses (the consultant calls them bag ladies) with whom I spend a happy hour going over some practicalities. She was very forthright and words like 'wee' and 'poo' slip glibly off her tongue.
25th April, 15.00 - I go to the horsepiddle, have a blood-thinning injection, go home and return on the morrow for the surgery, following which I'll be in for four or five days, then signed off for two weeks. Good job my employer now has a sick pay scheme!
I feel like I've been in a whirlwind; still, given the alternative, I should think myself lucky. See you again soon.
11 comments:
Lawks! That must have startled you a bit. Just as well you mentioned the toiletry issues in passing (as it were). I'm sure it'll all go well and they'll realise you're really very scared but have startched your upper lip like a proper Englishman.
I'm so sorry to hear your news but also delighted to hear that the future is bright. Chemo is foul but it doesn't last forever and it gets you to the place you want to be.
Accept that you will be exhausted for a while and don't be afraid to ask for help. Be kind to yourself at every opportunity - you are starting on a long journey and you should make the travelling as comfortable as possible.
Keep in touch whenever you can as all your friends will be thinking of you. Your cheery messages did much to lift my spirits.
Much love
Kim
xx
ps i recommend cheese and onion sandwiches to take away the foul taste in your mouth that the chemo causes.
*starched*
Thinking good vibes your way. Lots of love x
TROUTY SAYS:
Well, Kim's the expert so listen to what she says.
You were right to share this news with us.
It's always good to get things off your chest. And be sure to keep in touch when you feel that you can.... the downs as well as the ups.
That's what friends are for.
Much love to you and yours. x
Blimey! Hope all goes well matey - thinking of you.
Hope all goes well. A problem shared is a problem halved. So keep sharing! My friend suggested spicy breakfast burritos but they might be a bit harder to come by!
Thinking of you, Bro.
(She's totally not kidding about the sandwiches. We bought Shropshire's entire stock in cheddar, I believe.)
Becks x
barium enemas are like pooing concrete. Good luck old chap, keep your pecker up and well done for sharing. Everything crossed for Monday
I expect to see a near-future blog with 'why did you bother to knock?' in there somewhere. It's a tradition, or an old charter, or something.
Here's wishing you much love and luck, matey!
Thanks to all you lovely people, I'm so grateful for all your kind words, advice and encouragement. I've got a good stock of cheese and onion ready! I'll report back soon.
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