Impatient In patient

It's taken me a long time to begin writing this entry, I kept coming on to the page and putting it off until the next time. I suppose a skyhighatrist would give a long rambling explanation for not doing it and then book another 20 sessions. Suffice to say I wasn't ready and that's enough I suppose. On to my hospital stay now, I arrived and was processed (makes me sound like a marrowfat pea) and was all settled in bed by 8.30, just in time to watch the man opposite getting served his breakfast, which reminded me just how long it was since 10 pm the night before when I had my last cuppa. Next to arrive was the anaesthetist who gave me a rundown on what he would be doing and checking for any history of reaction on previous times. I assured him I was only allergic to pain. I won second place in the prize draw and was given a snazzy pr of socks to wear when I was wheeled to collect my prize, I was already wearing the inevitable arseless nightie hospitals seem to love. Why give me one without a back when they are operating on my front? I'll put that question with all the other things I don't understand, like chinese writing and female logic. After the main event I took a peek at the diameter of the various tubes coming out of the side of the bed and gulped in horror. There were two of them, each about the size of my little finger. Shock! Horror! I wondered how things would ever go back to the normal size, at that stage I hadn't looked under the sheet. Reassured a little bit when I found out there was a two into one join before it reached my intimate bits. But they weren't intimate any longer, the world and his dog have been inspecting them for weeks already, and I had plenty more viewings in store. Maybe I should charge like a stately home? It was well on it's way to being a crumbling ruin anyway. I had a poor night trying to sleep on the hospital bed and spent most of it awake, nothing to do with the operation, I have a back problem caused in a crash a few years ago and that bed did not help in any way. So the day after when the urology nurse turned up to give me the chemo wash I was sound asleep, she had to wake me every time for me to turn to a different position. I had the catheter removed about 36 hours after the op and my first visit to pee was an experience. The pain was beyond description, never mind broken glass, this was like passing revved up rusty chain saws. I opened the door on my knees and sort of slithered out, white shaking and dizzy. Anyway the next time wasn't quite as bad, just chain saw on idle, then not running, and so on until it was reasonably safe to not be terrified in advance, knowing what was going to happen. I was booted out the next evening and sent home with instructions, medications and a discharge pack with copies of all the various forms etc. Two weeks to go for my follow up appointment seeing my consultant, so it was a gentle fortnight not doing much at all. The fateful day arrived and I was given the news - Stage 2 and he told me he had removed it all with no evidence of any travel out of the bladder wall. Wonderful, I could have kissed him, but he may not have appreciated it so made do with my heartfelt thanks. I have a course of chemo wash each week until the end of January and all the follow up appointments but at the moment it's I HAD cancer.