Monday 11th October and I am off to the surgeon for my anniversary review. I got sawn in half on October 9th 2009. Can it really be a year and two days since I was put to sleep only to wake up a totally different person?
It was an absolutely gorgeous sunny day as I winged my way to the hospital – the QMC treatment centre which I have waxed lyrical about before. I make my way up to gateway I – digestive diseases and the place is heaving. I had to get in a queue to join the queue and then finally I got to the desk. There are a number of laminated pieces of A4 bearing the legends of the consultants who are in attendance. Mine had no names under it. Is that a good sign?
I sit down and start to watch the BBC news channel on the LCD screen with subtitles. Cuts. Cuts. Cuts seems to be the themes. Well we know all about cuts in this waiting room I might tell ya! The woman opposite stikes up a conversation. “My appointment is at 9.30” - it was 10.20. “My consultant is running two and a half hours late.” What is this – appointment times one-upmanship? “Mine is at 10.30.” “You won’t be seen by then – they are all late.” The LCD screen announces which consultants are …err consulting and how far behind they are with their appointments. Mine is thirty minutes. The appointment snob sneers. HE won’t be half an hour late!”
The receptionist humps my very large file out of the cabinet and on to the desk and places my consultants name on top. Hah! That means I will be next. I am so glad my file has got so large. Not because there’s lots to know about me, naturally but at least they struggle to lose it – unlike the early days when it used to challenge even the combined expertise of all the CSIs put together to find it. It is big, very big. I have seen a bigger one – but only one. And it is yellow with a lot of subject dividers in blue. Distinctive is a word I would use. Distinctive and distinguished. Yeah that’s about right.
Blast, the receptionist puts another weedy folder on top of mine and places my consultants name on top of that. In my head I scream “ Oh no! That’s not fair. Put the other one UNDERNEATH. I’m next.”
It’s now 10.30. Mrs. Oneupmanship gets called in. She’s only one hour behind – I’ve got time to catch her up. She smiles sweetly as she passes as if to say so long sucker.
The nurse comes through from the inner sanctum and picks up the two folders from under my consultant’s name. She calls out a name and the cuckoo interloper gets up. In my head I still scream “I’M FIRST” and then gathering my tome in both arms calls me.
The system is quite simples. They leave you to wait in a waiting room at reception and then they let you pass into the hallowed portals where you sit in a chair and wait. But it’s not a waiting room – it’s a waiting area so they can time how long you were waiting in the waiting room and then the clock stops while you are in the waiting area. The third part of the waiting system is you get called into a consulting room and then …..wait.
That’s all this cancer malarkey is. A bit of treatment – have a wait. Then a bit of consulting and have a wait. And then have a scan and have a wait. Good job I am a patient patient, eh? Maybe I protesteth too much.
Sat in the waiting area and my volumous yellow file is placed in a plastic safe like box and it’s the only one in there but my consultant works three consulting rooms at the same time so I could still have a long wait. I suppose it is a good system unless he gets files and people mixed up.
My consultant is rushing backwards and forwards from room to room and very shortly I am ushered in to the consulting room. It is only a matter of minutes before the great man himself enters and shuts the door.
“How are you?” he asks. There is no impression that he is in a hurry to get on. I tell him all about myself and then I drop the forty yarder – I think I have ruptured my stoma.
“Hop on the bed.” I suppose this is where my knackers get a right good airing. Nope – just a quick feel round all over. “Put yourself together” he announces.
I tell him about my lung infection and all the coughing. “Yes that’s what’s done it – we wouldn’t operate on it unless the bowel gets twisted and you get peritonitis or a blocked bowel or gangrene. In fact – you have a stoma rupture and a laparascopy scar rupture – both very large, but we like the big ones because there is not much likelihood of any complications. If we did a repair it would be nearly as dangerous as your first operation. I can tell you this now – I gave you a less than ten percent chance of getting through it and I wouldn’t like to try your luck again.”
“The scar looks good” he went on “ Looks like a five year old scar – you heal really well.” “Skill of the surgeon” I reply. “No, skill of the anaesthetist – he kept you going long enough for me to do a good job.”
“Yes on the morning of the operation he told me not to worry because he had not lost anyone yet.” “That’s why I picked him” was the response.
As I leave Mrs. appointment oneupmanship was still waiting in a consulting room. I smile sweetly as I pass her and then roll about the floor laughing when I get outside.
So I am booked in for a anniversary CT scan just to make sure there are no nasties lurking and to see where my bowel is in relation to my rupture. I thank my surgeon – telling him that I never thought that I would be in the position I am today. I think he liked that bit because I did feel that he was disappointed with my ruptures.
Tuesday was a blood test for my diabetes review or prelude to an arse kicking competition which is where my GP tells me off for putting on weight.
Wednesday afternoon and I have to go for my cataract review. The eye clinic is another one of those systems where you are booked in and then get ushered into a waiting area as opposed to a waiting room. Tim ha taken me – you are not allowed to drive because of the drops they put in your eyes to dilate your pupils. When Antony takes me and skives off work it takes hours and hours. This time, because Tim was in attendance I was in and out in ten minutes. And no drops so I could have driven myself anyway.
So dear reader, this is the last blog for a week or so. I am off on a canal boat for a week from next Tuesday leaving from Upton upon Severn. No doubt you will hear all about our adventures when I get back. Splice the mainbrace! Avast behind! Well Irene says its not too bad. Belay that order Mr. Christian. I'll have you flogged through the fleet...................
