A busy two weeks...

Okay, I need to do a "catch up" post because tomorrow we fly to London again to get the results of last weeks operation and find out the rest of my treatment plan.
It's been an eventful few weeks, but here it is.

I had it in my mind that the week leading up to my operation in London to remove most of the tumor from behind my nose would be spent with family, resting, eating well and getting physically and mentally ready for this pretty hefty surgical procedure... not to be. On the Tuesday before I started getting severe pain inside my left ear. With in a few days and few more visits to the local GP I was on morphine and off to hospital with swelling in the side of my head that made my look like the guy off the Goonies... "Hey You Guys!". They kept me in for two nights on IV anti-biotics which seemed to do the trick, leveling out what was a pretty aggressive ear infection. The hospital were very good in that they kept regular communication with the doctors in London regrading my condition and took advice that would insure that the op would go ahead as planned on Monday. I was Lucky that we have a close friend who works as a nurse in hospital who was on hand with help and support (thanks Claire!)

On the Saturday I was released from Truro hospital and spent one night at home before it was time to jet over to London for Monday's operation. We met with family and spent the night in a really nice hotel just around the corner from The Marsden. I ordered a steak on room service, knowing the possible aftermath of the operation, and well as that from 7am I wouldn't be allowed to eat until after the operation. On the Monday we arrived at The Marsden surgical wing and booked in. There was a long wait as we were moved form waiting rooms, to cubicle, to ward with blood tests and forms filled in and extracted at every turn. The anaesthetist called by and asked a few questions and finished up by say that she was going to get me "so high, that I will feel like a one man party!".. okay, lets do this!

4.30pm came around and I was sitting in my room staring at the hospital gown folded on the bed when the surgeon and his registrar burst through the door and after a brief hello dropped two disclosure forms in front of me saying "have a read and sign please"... I didn't need or want to read them. Either they do the surgery and stand a chance of living or the don't and I die,... easy choice, I sign. "Your very late, get ready quickly" they barked before exiting the room. I stripped and climbed into the surgical gown... it was extra small! Okay, no problem there's a dressing gown thingy too... I put it on... it's extra extra small!!! I look very stupid. Not to worry though, I'm sure I'll be wheeled down a maze of discreet corridors and service lifts? No, I'm frog marched with my undersized surgical wear down the public lift through the busy reception of the hospital... not good. You could see it in peoples eyes... poor man.

There's no tranquil pre-op environment to chill while the anaesthetist applies her relaxing chemical assistance, no... we walk straight into theater. "Bet you've never seen a microscope that big before" chirps the anaesthetist pointing a large black machine in the corner. "We are going to be using that on you in a bit!"... I was finding it difficult to get excited.

It's been a long day so far and we have come a long way. I'm standing there in a mini dress wearing a child's dressing gown, in a freezing cold room full of super busy people in blue surgical scrubs and masks. Relaxing on the cold metal bed and feeling the sting of the cannular in the back of my hand was almost welcome... this was it, we're off. I felt a warm flush go through my brain and I was gone...

I woke 3 hours later with someone speaking to me on my deaf side, I had no clue what they were saying so answered with a default "I'm fine" to everything that sounded like a question. The surgeon strolled up "how did it go?" I asked... "very well" he replied and walked away. The next thing I remember is being back in my hospital room with a guy praying over me. It was confusing, I didn't feel like I had or was about to die... but there's this guy in red lumberjack shirt blasting prayer rock from an i-pad and chanting out some kind of prayer. Bare in mind, I'm fresh out of surgery, I'm guessing I've been back in the land of living for less than half an hour... reeling from the drugs they had applied to keep a 14st man stone out cold for three hours, things we're weird enough! I mentioned this to Bethan in the morning and she insisted that it was a morphine induced hallucination. I needed to find out. Relief came when I checked with a friend I had worked with who is part of a church based in Truro. The church leader works in London and felt it was necessary to pay me a visit. I'm not a particularly religious person, but under the circumstances I'm not going to turn away any form of positive energy... but the timing was a little strange!

I awoke the next day and assessed the damage. I did this by turning my camera phone on myself like a mirror. I was hooked up to a drain which ended with a clear pipe coming from my neck. There was a large 6" incision in my neck where they had removed the two lymph nodes. I had tape all over my face supporting a plaster cast that covered my nose and heavy wadding that was soaked out with blood from my nostrils. I could feel the stitched in my upper gum below my top lip, they felt like very fine barbed wire. Overall, I was in no pain at all. I looked down a saw an old friend... a morphine trigger. A small plastic switch with a green light on top. When the green light comes on you can self administer another small dose of morphine. Bethan arrived to find me happily clicking my way through the morning. Beyond the morphine though there was this state of euphoria and relief. I was glad that things had gone to plan and that a large amount of the cancer had been removed without any of the serious issues I had discussed with the surgeon. My vision was intact, my voice was working, and I didn't bleed to death... cool!

As the days went by the drain was removed and sections of dressing were taken down. I felt myself being freed of the medical umbilical of the hospital's care until finally on the Wednesday the doctor announced "I think you should be good to go home tomorrow"... Home? I'd blocked it out, but that hadn't stopped me missing the kids terribly. I was discharged and we flew home on the Friday. That feeling...you know that feeling when you get back off holiday and you drink tea from your own mug, you wash in your own shower, you sit on your own toilet... The sun was streaming across the river and through the back windows as we were greeted by my Mum. The kids weren't long home from school, so we sat and talked and just soaked it all up. So good to be back.