Slowly but surely.......by Stella

Well, it's been almost two weeks since John's excruciating journey back from Frimley Park. John's Dad, (also named John) was kind enough to drive me there to collect him. He looked good in hospital and deteriorated visibly, minute by agonising minute on the way home which was no reflection on the Land Rover or the driver just an indication that trying to sit up straight for an hour is easier in a comfy hospital chair than it is when being jiggled around in a car. He staggered up the stairs on our arrival home, ashen and visibly in pain, visited the bathroom and let me help him into bed. He barely spoke to anyone. Most of our children were downstairs, visiting for Mothers' Day. Some of them popped up to see him and our daughter, Naomi (the midwife) came up to show me how to do his daily injection of anticoagulant. It's a doddle. The needles are lovely and sharp and it doesn't hurt me at all!
I felt he'd left hospital far too quickly and the worry about his health was a real burden to me. He had only had the urinary catheter removed on the morning of the day he'd left hospital and was certainly not passing water normally when he arrived home and frankly hasn't been since. But things are improving. He measures the quantity he passes and that's  steadily increased but although he has, since leaving hospital, been treated for a urinary tract infection (ever seen a sample that looks like chicken soup?) it hasn't completely gone as the cloudy consomme I took to the surgery on Friday proved but we must wait until Monday to provide another sample that can be tested in the afternoon and  then yet more antibiotics can be obtained!
I'm getting to know the doctors and the chemists very well now. I've ordered more and more different types of pain relief for John (some drugs like co-codomol disagreed with him). I've bought hot water bottles, urine bottles and even Tena for Men!! The guy in the chemist asked if I'd like a bag for the Tena for Men. I smiled. "Don't worry" I said "They're obviously not for me".
Despite the problems with the infection John is improving. He's sleeping a lot but his periods of being awake are becoming longer and tonight he feels comfortable enough to let me sleep in the bed with him. So goodbye lumpy sofa and Tesco Value sleeping bag and hello comfort and clean sheets!
He's had a few visitors. His parents visit once a week, usually at lunchtime, when he's more likely not to be in bed. Our friend Mark has visited and enjoyed tea and cakes with me in the blissfully warm mornings in the garden we've been having.....but he hasn't seen John. Nigel Miles visited on Wednesday and presented John with his Queen's Jubilee Medal.....another one for the collection/pant drawer. It was nice for John to see Nigel and briefly discuss a few work matters but I think John looks forward to better times when they can go out and enjoy a nice fat greasy breakfast together!
On the friday after leaving hospital John's lovely Aunt Sheila died, quite suddenly, of a heart attack. I heard by telephone and told John when he woke up in the afternoon. It was so sad to see him so upset. I bought a few sympathy cards for John to write on and like a fool I let him walk down to the post box to send them. That wasn't a good idea. He didn't feel the effects until the next day but his back was in  terrific pain and nothing helped other than letting me rub it.......... for hours.

We managed a very short walk this evening, maybe 200yds (I'm no good at measuring distances) and he made it back in one piece. It was great to get some cool fresh air in his lungs but it was a very short walk. Slowly but surely he'll get there. I took a picture of him.
And here's a picture of John soaking up the unseasonably warm March sun.

Like the dressing gown?

Notes from a small ward

While I was in hospital I made some notes for this blog entry, some are a bit raw, some may seem trite and some may seem to be cloying but I want to record this journey as honestly as possible. I have decided they should be verbatim so here goes:

15 March: Stella came in with Dad tonight, can't remember much of the conversation. Stella's had her hair cut, she is beautiful.

16.March: On F8 (ward) feeling very low. Mum, Dad, Sally, Tabitha (she arrived earlier than the others), Jemima and Paul. It was good to see Tabby. Can't pretend to be happy, I feel like this is never going to end so scared. Just want to be with Stella.
My emotions swing wildly from overjoyed to tearful especially when thinking about the kids.
Later: Injected myself (anticoagulent) tonight for the first time. I am going to have to do this when I get home Yuk!

17 March: On the upside, recovery seem good I'm walking much further than recommended by the physio. Inside my stomach feels bruised (to be expected) and I feel vaguely like I need a poo, I think this may be down to bruising in my rectum. The Consultant is very pleased with progress and the symposium; showed me footage on his phone! The numb area around my stomach seems to be receding and I think I am begining to feel my bladder again. I still have a catheter (depressing) but they will take it out tonight (Saturday). I'll be in at least until Sunday possibly Monday. The Consultant says there is no reason why my stoma can't be reversed (v. positive). He had to 'remake' my stoma during the operation and did consider reversing it then! part of me wishes he had.

The staff here (Frimley Park) are fantastic, showing unbelievable tolerence, forberence and kindness.  Their little joke was to say 'Medication time' every time they brought the drug trolley around the ward. However, being on the ward is very depressing.

Not verbatim bit
While on the ward I met and got chatting to an 88 year old guy who looked like catweazle. He had been in a tank crew on D-Day, being landed by the americans, wounded, patched up and sent back. He said he had never seen so many dead bodies, human and animal. He also related a story of an encounter with a German Tiger tank ended with his best mate being killed. He was demobbed in 1947. He never did remembrance day parades because of the memories they brought back.
Our conversations showed me two things; Everybody has story to tell and war leaves very deep and long lasting scars, something we should all give more thought to.

Still Smiling

Well. Here he is today; a day after surgery;  laughing , smiling, joking and walking around with his drip. Our friend, Mark took us to the hospital on Wednesday. We had to be there at 7.30am. I set my alarm for 5am but inevitably woke at 3.20am having had a panic nightmare about sleeping through the alarm. I laid awake until almost 5am, switched off the alarm and woke John. It felt so strange, getting up early, putting bags in the boot, driving up the M25 and then not turning off for Gatwick.
On arrival at the hospital John was admitted to the pre-op ward and Mark and I waited in the waiting area. John  re-emerged to say goodbye clad in a dashing new black and white striped dressing gown. He looked like a giant humbug on a pair of hairy legs. We laughed and said goodbye. There was really no point in hanging around and I was home by 9am.
I knew he was third (and last) on the theatre list and that it would probably be 11am before he'd begin the operation so I decided to do what girls do in times of crisis and drove to Sevenoaks for a little retail therapy and a badly needed haircut. I'm very pleased with my new shoes!......and the bob.
The hours passed, no news, the phone rang and rang and still no news....just well-wishers. By 5pm I was beginning to feel just a little anxious and decided to ring the hospital. I was told that John was in the recovery room but he wasn't. In fact he was still in surgery until 6.30pm and the surgeon phoned me at 6.45 to tell me that the operation had gone well, as expected.
John remained in the recovery room for a long while, only going up to the ward at midnight. In the early hours he gave them all a scare with an alarming rise in his heart rate but the staff there soon got it under control. I'm bloomin' glad they never rang to tell me!!
John's dad took me to see him today. Considering what his body went through in the last 24 hours he looked remarkable. He was in good spirits and we laughed and joked quite a bit. His hands were a little swollen, his shoulders ached, he has an oxygen tube into his nose, his body hair's been shaved like he's featured in a Tom and Jerry cartoon and by the looks of it they super-glued his eyes together incase he woke up under the anaesthetic.
I love him.
Stella.
And finally via text message from John just now, a message for the blog"Feeling bruised and tired but relieved and looking forward to recovery."

Sunday Ride to Rye

I took advantage of the decent weather on Sunday and went for a ride on the bike down to Rye. Going early ensured I avoided the traffic and the roads were blissfully empty, free of speed cameras and mostly dry which meant I could let the bike stretch it's legs. When I got there I had a bacon sarnie and a cup of coffee sitting outside the cafe, soaking up the early morning sun. I blasted back home in time for lunch and to watch England narrowly beat France, watching England play rugby is always masochistic and this game was no exception. This was a thoroughly selfish day but will be the last for some weeks to come.

Stella and I went to Zizzi's for lunch on Monday we both gave the usual pizza a body swerve (rugby analogy) and went for shared antipasti for starters and fish dishes for main. The meal was very pleasant and the conversation was around another new arrival to the extended day clan. Hannah is pregnant, while we are both thrilled at this prospect it will make us Grand parents for the fourth time!

This just can't be happening to the 'Peter Pan couple' as my friend Mark refers to us. We still see ourselves as Hansel and Gretel hand in hand lost in the woods, not brother and sister obviously.

And so to today, Tuesday, less than 24 hours before we go to Frimley Park. Mark has volunteered to take Stella and me tomorrow. I am relieved, I would have worried about Stella driving home on her own after dropping me off. I am sure that this is a load off her mind as well. I have already received 'good luck' phone calls and text messages from family and friends, its always nice to know you are in people's thoughts. I don't feel nervous about tomorrow but I am 'stoked' (surfing analogy) about the operation and am already thinking beyond it to recovery, no doubt the nerves will come nearer the time.

There is a scene in 'Jaws'  where Robert Shaw relates his experience of waiting to be rescued from the sea to Rod Schieder and Richard Dreyfuss. He says that its not the days, spent in the water, that are the most frightening but the moments before being rescued. I can relate to this feeling, I have been paranoid about picking up a bug this last week for fear of my operation being cancelled, this has got worse the closer the time has come. To avoid colds I have overdosed on vitamin C, oranges and honey and lemon drinks I have also been drinking precautionary cold remedy drinks. I will only be completely happy when I am prepped and ready to be operated on.

I  have attached a 'Youtube' link to a video presentation of the Da Vinci robot in operation, its interesting but not for the faint of heart.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WgVoN8qNsz0

That was the week that was (2)

The 29th of February brought a proposal for me this year, it came from the secretary of the consultant at Frimley Park to go down for a consultation about robotic surgery. I went on Thursday to discuss this possibility and ended up being 'Pre-opped' for surgery on the 14th March!
This is better than I had hoped for, the compromise is that I agree to be used as a training session to be conducted by a Korean surgeon considered to be one of the foremost practitioners of this surgery in the world. The operation will be 'streamed' to surgeons in Portsmouth and shown live; my 15 minutes (7-8 hours actually) of fame.

I must get the bathroom re-decoration finished this week, its taken me longer than the pyramids so far!

Also this week I received notification that I would be put on half pay at the end of the month. Although I was expecting this it still comes as a shock. I feel exasperated, I think  my 'basket' is full enough without the extra distraction of appealing this decision.
However, after contacting work and discussing the situation I know how I will lodge my appeal.
I am keen to get back in the yoke and the foreshortened recovery period that robotic surgery offers will help toward this considerably.

I am still getting out on my bike, usually twice a week now, but despite this my weight has crept up to nearly 14 stone!
All the experts say not to worry that I will lose weight after surgery but I am dubious; they said that after my first bout of surgery and again after the nuclear portion but my weight has steadfastly gone up.
Whilst I appreciate that this is a healthy sign and I am indeed becoming fitter, after I have recovered from this round of surgery I want to address this predicament.

I had a sports massage this week, my first ever, felt much more elastic afterwards, I might try and make this a regular fixture.