Out the other side.....
Well, I'm still here!
The operation went remarkably well and the aftermath (so far - it's still less than 48 hours post op) hasn't been as bad as I was expecting.
Breakfast was early on Monday as I had to be at the hospital for 7.15am. I went off in a taxi at around 7am as Stephen had to take Briony to school. There were a few tears from Briony which made it very difficult. I had my little letter that she had written me, so that made things easier. The taxi driver was quite chatty for 7am in the morning and it transpired that his wife had been recalled from her most recent mammogram and was being seen at Wycombe that day for further tests etc. There's a lot of it about it would seem. Hopefully her news was better than mine.
I was duly shown to my room and introduced to the lovely nurse who would be looking after me for the day. Apparently I was due to have the wire inserted at 8.30am. Here began a long day of waiting around and day-time TV! I'd like to point out it is one of the only days since I was diagnosed that I have sat and watched pretty much a full day of day-time TV. It served as a reminder of why I don't usually do it.
I have to talk about attire for the day as this did provide some source of amusement! Standard issue hospital gown, but for added lack of dignity I had to wear it back to front given the area they were operating on! Those of you who have had the misfortune of ever having to wear such a garment will know that they don't exactly fasten particularly well, so I will leave the rest to your imagination. Perhaps the thinking was to treat (?) everyone to one last flash as I walked to theatres before they were permanently rearranged! Because of the risk of DVT I also had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with a rather fetching pair of thrombo-embolic compression stockings in a bottle green shade. My outfit for the day was completed with the largest pair of paper pants you have ever seen in your life. I could have fitted 3 of me into them. I tried them on one way, took them off and then tried them on the other way. Neither way was comfortable and more worryingly I couldn't tell which way was supposed to be the right way round. Confused, I changed back into my own underwear until the last minute to minimise my shame and discomfort!
The first procedure was the wire insertion. In my mind I had an image of them taking a paper-clip, unwinding it and jabbing it into my chest. Obviously that wasn't what happened. The first task was to find the titanium marker I had put in when I had my initially biopsy 5 months ago and then site a wire pointing to where this was. It's funny what you talk about to try and take your mind off things. We ended up talking about the marathon and how the consultant's husband had run it. The procedure itself wasn't too uncomfortable. It was however somewhat disturbing to look down and see something resembling a small spring sticking out of me a good 5cm or so! I was instantly reminded of Zebedee from the magic roundabout. I duly bounced off to have a couple of mammograms to check that everyone was happy with where my newly acquired metal-wear was sited. They were, which I was pleased about as I wasn't sure what would have happened if they weren't and didn't want to know.
Back off to the room for more waiting. Stephen had arrived from dropping Briony off, so at least I had some company. And that was us until about midday when the anaesthetist came to see us. He lived in the next village along from us on a route that we often run. Everything else was fairly standard and I was told I was on the list for 1.30pm and the operation would be about an hour and a half. We did find out that my surgeon had biked the London to Amsterdam bike ride the day before. I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not in my position to find this out!
Time ticked on a bit more and at 1.15pm I saw the surgeon. I thought he was cutting it a bit fine if I was on the list for 1.30pm. He began by saying how pleased he was about the lung physician's opinion. That makes 2 of us! He also said that treatment intent was now curative rather than previously palliative. Again reassuring. He drew 2 arrows on me to make sure they operated on the right side. Basic, but foolproof I guess. I resisted the urge to ask how the London to Amsterdam bike ride went given I was going to be at his complete mercy at some point before the end of the day and didn't want to upset him if it hadn't gone well! At least he seemed to be walking fairly normally!
1.30pm came and went. So did 2.30pm. At around 3pm I got a call to say that I could have a quick drink (I'd had nothing to drink since 11.30am and nothing to eat since 7am so was a bit cranky by this point), which wasn't a good sign in terms of when I would be going down. I ended up going down at about 5pm.
I haven't cried much about all of this, but it gets me at odd times. And it did on Monday. On the table waiting to be anaesthetised. Perhaps it was because I could see into theatres and the enormity of the journey and what was about to happen just seemed to catch up with me. The nurse and anaesthetist were very kind. A bit of oxygen soon sorted me out. Oh, that and the anaesthetic! I remember feeling incredibly drunk and then nothing.......until someone rubbing my arm and telling me I was all done.
After some food and a cup of tea and a rather shaky walk around we were allowed home. We ended up getting home around 10pm, so all in all a very long day. I wasn't too sore at least. I did have a new friend in the form of a drain from the (now removed) lymph nodes. I've christened him Bertie as Briony is a little scared of it and having a name seems to help. He's a short-term friend as he's being removed this evening.
I'm in a bit of pain but not too much - it's bearable. Everything is under bandages currently so I can't really see what has been done. Probably a good thing for the time being. We see the surgeon on Tuesday next week to get the results of the biopsies of body parts removed. This is important as it will determine the on-going treatment plan. We also see the oncologist the same day, so another big day.
Briony had a school music concert last night. We had said to her that I wouldn't be able to make it, but as it turned out I felt well enough to go. Just seeing her little face light up when she saw me absolutely made the effort worth it. She continues to keep me on the straight and narrow throughout this!
The operation went remarkably well and the aftermath (so far - it's still less than 48 hours post op) hasn't been as bad as I was expecting.
Breakfast was early on Monday as I had to be at the hospital for 7.15am. I went off in a taxi at around 7am as Stephen had to take Briony to school. There were a few tears from Briony which made it very difficult. I had my little letter that she had written me, so that made things easier. The taxi driver was quite chatty for 7am in the morning and it transpired that his wife had been recalled from her most recent mammogram and was being seen at Wycombe that day for further tests etc. There's a lot of it about it would seem. Hopefully her news was better than mine.
I was duly shown to my room and introduced to the lovely nurse who would be looking after me for the day. Apparently I was due to have the wire inserted at 8.30am. Here began a long day of waiting around and day-time TV! I'd like to point out it is one of the only days since I was diagnosed that I have sat and watched pretty much a full day of day-time TV. It served as a reminder of why I don't usually do it.
I have to talk about attire for the day as this did provide some source of amusement! Standard issue hospital gown, but for added lack of dignity I had to wear it back to front given the area they were operating on! Those of you who have had the misfortune of ever having to wear such a garment will know that they don't exactly fasten particularly well, so I will leave the rest to your imagination. Perhaps the thinking was to treat (?) everyone to one last flash as I walked to theatres before they were permanently rearranged! Because of the risk of DVT I also had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with a rather fetching pair of thrombo-embolic compression stockings in a bottle green shade. My outfit for the day was completed with the largest pair of paper pants you have ever seen in your life. I could have fitted 3 of me into them. I tried them on one way, took them off and then tried them on the other way. Neither way was comfortable and more worryingly I couldn't tell which way was supposed to be the right way round. Confused, I changed back into my own underwear until the last minute to minimise my shame and discomfort!
The first procedure was the wire insertion. In my mind I had an image of them taking a paper-clip, unwinding it and jabbing it into my chest. Obviously that wasn't what happened. The first task was to find the titanium marker I had put in when I had my initially biopsy 5 months ago and then site a wire pointing to where this was. It's funny what you talk about to try and take your mind off things. We ended up talking about the marathon and how the consultant's husband had run it. The procedure itself wasn't too uncomfortable. It was however somewhat disturbing to look down and see something resembling a small spring sticking out of me a good 5cm or so! I was instantly reminded of Zebedee from the magic roundabout. I duly bounced off to have a couple of mammograms to check that everyone was happy with where my newly acquired metal-wear was sited. They were, which I was pleased about as I wasn't sure what would have happened if they weren't and didn't want to know.
Time ticked on a bit more and at 1.15pm I saw the surgeon. I thought he was cutting it a bit fine if I was on the list for 1.30pm. He began by saying how pleased he was about the lung physician's opinion. That makes 2 of us! He also said that treatment intent was now curative rather than previously palliative. Again reassuring. He drew 2 arrows on me to make sure they operated on the right side. Basic, but foolproof I guess. I resisted the urge to ask how the London to Amsterdam bike ride went given I was going to be at his complete mercy at some point before the end of the day and didn't want to upset him if it hadn't gone well! At least he seemed to be walking fairly normally!
I haven't cried much about all of this, but it gets me at odd times. And it did on Monday. On the table waiting to be anaesthetised. Perhaps it was because I could see into theatres and the enormity of the journey and what was about to happen just seemed to catch up with me. The nurse and anaesthetist were very kind. A bit of oxygen soon sorted me out. Oh, that and the anaesthetic! I remember feeling incredibly drunk and then nothing.......until someone rubbing my arm and telling me I was all done.
After some food and a cup of tea and a rather shaky walk around we were allowed home. We ended up getting home around 10pm, so all in all a very long day. I wasn't too sore at least. I did have a new friend in the form of a drain from the (now removed) lymph nodes. I've christened him Bertie as Briony is a little scared of it and having a name seems to help. He's a short-term friend as he's being removed this evening.
I'm in a bit of pain but not too much - it's bearable. Everything is under bandages currently so I can't really see what has been done. Probably a good thing for the time being. We see the surgeon on Tuesday next week to get the results of the biopsies of body parts removed. This is important as it will determine the on-going treatment plan. We also see the oncologist the same day, so another big day.
Briony had a school music concert last night. We had said to her that I wouldn't be able to make it, but as it turned out I felt well enough to go. Just seeing her little face light up when she saw me absolutely made the effort worth it. She continues to keep me on the straight and narrow throughout this!
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