Well, here we go. It's Sunday. Danny will be coming to collect me in a couple of hours and then it's off for the (hopefully) final stretch of a long, long ordeal. I'm looking forward to waking up in intensive care in the knowledge that the stoma has gone and the task from then on is to gather strength so that I'm in a reasonable condition for when I'm released shortly before Christmas. Who knows? - I might even be able to eat something modestly along the lines of a Christmas dinner! That would be a nice reward for all the misery I've gone through.
I don't suppose I'll be able to post anything more on here for a week or so. I'll report in again as soon as I can.
Sunday, 28 November 2010
Tuesday, 23 November 2010
Result!
I had to wait an hour beyond the appointment time this morning, but it was worth it in the end. The Professor was in an unusually jolly mood and told me that I am to check in to the hospital next Friday afternoon. Once I'm checked in, I can either stay there for the weekend or go home until Sunday. THE OPERATION IS FIXED FOR MONDAY, 29TH NOVEMBER!!! A whole day is reserved for it, which is what I expected.
The surgeon said there was no point in worrying about little infections in the meantime. Everything that needs to be fixed will be done on Monday. Until then, no antibiotics.
The recovery time after the operation is likely to be 2 to 3 weeks.
At long last - the finishing line is in sight. I am absolutely delighted.
The surgeon said there was no point in worrying about little infections in the meantime. Everything that needs to be fixed will be done on Monday. Until then, no antibiotics.
The recovery time after the operation is likely to be 2 to 3 weeks.
At long last - the finishing line is in sight. I am absolutely delighted.
Friday, 19 November 2010
Good news with a reservation
The PET didn't detect any cancer cells in the body so that was a huge relief. On the other hand, it found an infection at the top of the lungs and that now has to be investigated. I'm just hoping that it's something they can combat with antibiotics and that it doesn't cause any delays.
I now have an appointment to see the lead surgeon on Tuesday morning. That should then provide some concrete information about further steps.
I now have an appointment to see the lead surgeon on Tuesday morning. That should then provide some concrete information about further steps.
Wednesday, 17 November 2010
Now comes the scary bit
Well, things are still moving as scheduled. I went to see the oncologists on Monday and was told - much to my amazement - that considering what I was going through, I actually looked pretty good..! Could have fooled me. They took a blood sample for analysis and otherwise wouldn't commit themselves to anything. I should go for the PET on Wednesday (today, and of course I went), and then phone them on Thursday afternoon. They would give me the results and - if they can nail him down for five minutes - extort an appointment with the surgeon for either Monday or Tuesday next week.
Irene drove me to the hospital this morning for the PET. I've been in that tunnel so many times that I've lost count, but I was a bit anxious this morning. If I lie flat on my back for more than about 2 minutes, I generally go into coughing spasms. As it happened, it was okay and the process took its normal course. I was back home at lunchtime. Irene, who was my late wife's best friend for thirty-odd years, has been extremely kind and supportive. I was all the more grateful for her "taxi service" this morning because the weather is bitterly cold, grey and damp. Waiting around for trams wouldn't have been fun.
The scary bit comes tomorrow, when I phone to get the results. My understanding is that if everything is clear, there should be nothing standing in the way of the second operation. They wouldn't comment on what would happen if the PET wasn't completely clear. So once again, for the umpteenth time, I have to persuade myself that everything is perfect and there's nothing to worry about.
The nurse has just been here and changed the dressings, so now I've got the rest of the day to myself. Loads of clearing up still to do, but I'll just take it bit by bit.
Irene drove me to the hospital this morning for the PET. I've been in that tunnel so many times that I've lost count, but I was a bit anxious this morning. If I lie flat on my back for more than about 2 minutes, I generally go into coughing spasms. As it happened, it was okay and the process took its normal course. I was back home at lunchtime. Irene, who was my late wife's best friend for thirty-odd years, has been extremely kind and supportive. I was all the more grateful for her "taxi service" this morning because the weather is bitterly cold, grey and damp. Waiting around for trams wouldn't have been fun.
The scary bit comes tomorrow, when I phone to get the results. My understanding is that if everything is clear, there should be nothing standing in the way of the second operation. They wouldn't comment on what would happen if the PET wasn't completely clear. So once again, for the umpteenth time, I have to persuade myself that everything is perfect and there's nothing to worry about.
The nurse has just been here and changed the dressings, so now I've got the rest of the day to myself. Loads of clearing up still to do, but I'll just take it bit by bit.
Saturday, 13 November 2010
Almost another week gone
Apart from everything else, I'm suffering from a bad conscience. Since arriving back home, I've effectively closed myself off from the outside world, including family and friends. I haven't felt like talking to anyone (difficult anyway because my voice is a cross between a croak and a whisper) and I even feel embarrassed when I see myself in the mirror, never mind having others seeing me. My weight has dropped to less than 65 kilos (just over 10 stone), my hair has thinned to the point where it almost looks comical, my eyes are unfocused and I generally look like a survivor from a concentration camp.
The week has been dominated by sorting out and administering medication three times a day, trying to keep up with the tube feeding regime, racing occasionally to the loo (the diarrhoea problem has now gone on for just over six weeks) and sleeping. Lots of sleeping. Far too much, really. There are so many things that I should really get done, but I keep on putting them off. I don't seem to be able to stay active for more than about an hour at a time and then I'm exhausted again.
Considering that the first operation was on 27th September, I feel like a train that's been parked away on rusty sidings ever since then. Apart from two cycles of chemotherapy and the not very constructive weeks in Mammern and Susenberg, nothing has happened. I have an appointment on Monday morning with the oncologists and a PET-CT on Wednesday. I'm hoping that once they see the condition I'm in, they'll get their fingers out and do something because I'm rapidly running out of patience. The weaker I become, the less likely it is that the second operation will take place soon. I'm just praying that I get a date very soon now and can enter the final phase of treatment with the operation so that I'm on the road to recovery by Christmas.
The week has been dominated by sorting out and administering medication three times a day, trying to keep up with the tube feeding regime, racing occasionally to the loo (the diarrhoea problem has now gone on for just over six weeks) and sleeping. Lots of sleeping. Far too much, really. There are so many things that I should really get done, but I keep on putting them off. I don't seem to be able to stay active for more than about an hour at a time and then I'm exhausted again.
Considering that the first operation was on 27th September, I feel like a train that's been parked away on rusty sidings ever since then. Apart from two cycles of chemotherapy and the not very constructive weeks in Mammern and Susenberg, nothing has happened. I have an appointment on Monday morning with the oncologists and a PET-CT on Wednesday. I'm hoping that once they see the condition I'm in, they'll get their fingers out and do something because I'm rapidly running out of patience. The weaker I become, the less likely it is that the second operation will take place soon. I'm just praying that I get a date very soon now and can enter the final phase of treatment with the operation so that I'm on the road to recovery by Christmas.
Monday, 8 November 2010
A different kind of stress
Well, as planned, Danny collected me from Susenberg early this morning and drove me home with half a ton of luggage.
Since returning to within my own four walls, it has been somewhat hectic. The phone has hardly stopped ringing for one thing. Then two nurses from Spitex, the home nursing organisation, arrived at 2 o'clock and gathered information for 2 solid hours. Apart from anything else, the stoma was leaking again, so one of the ladies had the dubious pleasure of replacing it - her first ever experience of stoma installation. It seems to be okay at the moment. Before that was finished, another woman arrived with all the equipment for drip feeding. By the time I had been instructed on which medication to take at which times (there are about 10 different medicines) and how to fit all the feeding into a 24-hour day, my head was spinning. It's now late afternoon and the place looks like a tip. There's all the luggage to unpack, plus loads of boxes and containers and lists and leaflets and God knows what else standing or lying all over the place.
Oh well. Even if it takes me two or three days to create some kind of order, at least I'll be fully occupied which I suppose is good. No chance of boredom.
Since returning to within my own four walls, it has been somewhat hectic. The phone has hardly stopped ringing for one thing. Then two nurses from Spitex, the home nursing organisation, arrived at 2 o'clock and gathered information for 2 solid hours. Apart from anything else, the stoma was leaking again, so one of the ladies had the dubious pleasure of replacing it - her first ever experience of stoma installation. It seems to be okay at the moment. Before that was finished, another woman arrived with all the equipment for drip feeding. By the time I had been instructed on which medication to take at which times (there are about 10 different medicines) and how to fit all the feeding into a 24-hour day, my head was spinning. It's now late afternoon and the place looks like a tip. There's all the luggage to unpack, plus loads of boxes and containers and lists and leaflets and God knows what else standing or lying all over the place.
Oh well. Even if it takes me two or three days to create some kind of order, at least I'll be fully occupied which I suppose is good. No chance of boredom.
Saturday, 6 November 2010
In limbo
Back in Susenberg which is effectively serving as a hotel more than anything else for the weekend.
The chemotherapy has been much tougher this time. My blood pressure has plummeted to new low levels, my fingers are tingling every time I get out of bed and move around and my hair is falling out as well. I’ll wind up looking like an extremely skinny version of Bruce Willis at this rate!
At least I have a couple of new appointments as target dates. On the 15th November I have to go to the oncologists for a blood test and a chat about my general condition after the latest dose of chemo, and then on 17th November I am scheduled for a PET CT. I’m very much hoping that if all is well, I will obtain a date for the operation so that I have a target to head for.
I imagine I’ll get a psychological boost from being at home next week. At the moment, all I really feel like doing all day long is sleeping. Even if I spend four or five hours asleep during the day, I still sleep well overnight. I feel that I’m just in limbo at the moment, a kind of vacuum. I wish I could see the end of the tunnel. It’s still not in sight.
The chemotherapy has been much tougher this time. My blood pressure has plummeted to new low levels, my fingers are tingling every time I get out of bed and move around and my hair is falling out as well. I’ll wind up looking like an extremely skinny version of Bruce Willis at this rate!
At least I have a couple of new appointments as target dates. On the 15th November I have to go to the oncologists for a blood test and a chat about my general condition after the latest dose of chemo, and then on 17th November I am scheduled for a PET CT. I’m very much hoping that if all is well, I will obtain a date for the operation so that I have a target to head for.
I imagine I’ll get a psychological boost from being at home next week. At the moment, all I really feel like doing all day long is sleeping. Even if I spend four or five hours asleep during the day, I still sleep well overnight. I feel that I’m just in limbo at the moment, a kind of vacuum. I wish I could see the end of the tunnel. It’s still not in sight.
Wednesday, 3 November 2010
Checking out for a couple of days
This is probably my last posting for a couple of days. I have to leave here very early tomorrow morning to get to the hospital, and then I’m unlikely to be online until I return here on Saturday.
Thank you for all the many kind messages and wishes that have come in over this past week or so. All very much appreciated.
I’m still feeling positive and optimistic. Most of all, I’m looking forward to being back in my own four walls on Monday. The home nursing organisation called me this morning to confirm that they will be at my place on Monday afternoon to get everything sorted out. Then I’ll be at home until I’m summoned for the next step in the proceedings. It seems like years since the first operation. Actually, it’s only been just over a month. With any luck, I’m already more than halfway through it all.
Thank you for all the many kind messages and wishes that have come in over this past week or so. All very much appreciated.
I’m still feeling positive and optimistic. Most of all, I’m looking forward to being back in my own four walls on Monday. The home nursing organisation called me this morning to confirm that they will be at my place on Monday afternoon to get everything sorted out. Then I’ll be at home until I’m summoned for the next step in the proceedings. It seems like years since the first operation. Actually, it’s only been just over a month. With any luck, I’m already more than halfway through it all.
Tuesday, 2 November 2010
Musical chairs
The latest news is that I will be leaving most of my stuff here but moving back into the hospital on Thursday morning. On Thursday and overnight until Friday, I’ll have the second cycle of chemotherapy. On the Friday, they’ll be fitting a “port”. Don’t ask me what that is because I haven’t got a clue, but it’s apparently important.
Then, either on the Friday or the Saturday, I will move back to Susenberg for a quiet weekend to pack my things. I will then leave here on Monday morning to go home. The home nursing service is lined up to take care of the dressings etc. for as long as I’m at home. The liquid food will be delivered that same Monday afternoon.
I don’t know how long it will be before I’m called up for the PET CT and then the operation. It could just be two or three days. It could also be two or three weeks. I really don’t know.
Anyway, things are still moving so that’s encouraging.
Then, either on the Friday or the Saturday, I will move back to Susenberg for a quiet weekend to pack my things. I will then leave here on Monday morning to go home. The home nursing service is lined up to take care of the dressings etc. for as long as I’m at home. The liquid food will be delivered that same Monday afternoon.
I don’t know how long it will be before I’m called up for the PET CT and then the operation. It could just be two or three days. It could also be two or three weeks. I really don’t know.
Anyway, things are still moving so that’s encouraging.
Monday, 1 November 2010
A little more progress
A bright, sunny autumn afternoon. After an early start to the day (lazing around in bed beyond 7.30 in the morning isn’t encouraged in this place!), I went through the normal morning performance of giving up a blood sample and having all the checks done to ensure the nurses that I really was still alive. Then I got myself washed and groomed ready for my outing.
Irene arrived a little early and kindly drove me down to the hospital. It’s only about 10 minutes from here. Then I had to wait a while in the cancer polyclinic. The waiting room was packed. It’s only really when you become a cancer victim yourself that you realise how many people suffer from the dread disease. Anyway, as a private patient, I didn’t have to wait long before being received by a lady doctor who wanted to make sure that the status quo was properly understood and documented.
She said that she would coordinate everything with the visceral surgery department and phone me later today with fixed dates for the next cycle of chemotherapy and the PET CT. The chemo will be sometime this week. For that, I will have to check in to the hospital for an overnight stay and come back here to Susenberg the next day. That’s fine. At least things are now moving nicely.
Back at my temporary “home from home”, the electrician turned up and connected me to the clinic’s broadband system, so I am now able to send and receive e-mails and surf the Internet at a reasonable speed. No sooner was he finished than I was summoned downstairs for an electrocardiogram. So yep – things are progressing and I am still hopeful of the second operation taking place within the next two to three weeks.
I’ve never really been what you might call a “big eater”, but since my ability to eat or drink anything has been interrupted, I find myself imagining all the marvellous things I’ll be eating once my ability returns. I’ve even been “designing” club sandwiches, one of them consisting of ham, processed cheese slices, mayonnaise, lettuce, cucumber, tomato slices and a couple of slices of hard-boiled egg, all encased in fresh, white bread.... My mouth waters at the very thought of it...!!! Silly, I know, but it’s all about positive anticipation, so I don’t apologise for it.
On the whole, I’m comfortable, positive, optimistic and upbeat at the moment.
Irene arrived a little early and kindly drove me down to the hospital. It’s only about 10 minutes from here. Then I had to wait a while in the cancer polyclinic. The waiting room was packed. It’s only really when you become a cancer victim yourself that you realise how many people suffer from the dread disease. Anyway, as a private patient, I didn’t have to wait long before being received by a lady doctor who wanted to make sure that the status quo was properly understood and documented.
She said that she would coordinate everything with the visceral surgery department and phone me later today with fixed dates for the next cycle of chemotherapy and the PET CT. The chemo will be sometime this week. For that, I will have to check in to the hospital for an overnight stay and come back here to Susenberg the next day. That’s fine. At least things are now moving nicely.
Back at my temporary “home from home”, the electrician turned up and connected me to the clinic’s broadband system, so I am now able to send and receive e-mails and surf the Internet at a reasonable speed. No sooner was he finished than I was summoned downstairs for an electrocardiogram. So yep – things are progressing and I am still hopeful of the second operation taking place within the next two to three weeks.
I’ve never really been what you might call a “big eater”, but since my ability to eat or drink anything has been interrupted, I find myself imagining all the marvellous things I’ll be eating once my ability returns. I’ve even been “designing” club sandwiches, one of them consisting of ham, processed cheese slices, mayonnaise, lettuce, cucumber, tomato slices and a couple of slices of hard-boiled egg, all encased in fresh, white bread.... My mouth waters at the very thought of it...!!! Silly, I know, but it’s all about positive anticipation, so I don’t apologise for it.
On the whole, I’m comfortable, positive, optimistic and upbeat at the moment.
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