A proud member of the Bag for Life Club...

(First Published October 6th 2019)

It’s now Saturday afternoon. I finally left hospital on Thursday afternoon after 42 days (it was actually only 11 days but I’ve done some in depth calculations and worked out that every hour spent in hospital  feels like about 4 hours, especially if you’re not sleeping well.) This time last week I wouldn’t have believed it possible that I would be now at home as I could barely make it out of bed without assistance.  This morning I got myself up, had a bit of marmite on bread, natural yoghurt and tea for breakfast and watched the first half of Englands’ World Cup rugby match against Argentina. I had a normal bowel movement, had my first proper shower and got myself dressed. Unremakable…….. no, absolutely extraordinary.

This is how my 11 days in hospital panned out.

I was admitted to Eastbourne Hospital on Monday 23rd September at 7.30am. My final ever wee was at 8.35 that morning. I spoke briefly with surgeons, admin people, anaesthetists and urologists and I asked all these people if I should have an enema as I was already feeling quite backed up due to the codeine I had been taking for my back. This never materialised.  Before I knew it it was time to go to theatre.  Any calm, laid back exterior I may have been wearing melted away and I felt emotional and fearful. The fitting of the canula for the anaesthetic was fine and in just seconds there was....nothing.

When I awoke things weren’t as I’d anticipated. I was in a world of pain and was being manhandled. I remember shouting out. I remember the anaesthetist shouting something and I finally remember being lifted, excruciatingly, onto a trolley and wheeled into intensive care. Once I was completely stationary I was more comfortable. My wife arrived an hour or so later having been given a call from the surgeon. Apparently the operation was a complete success! I’d lost more blood than they hoped, although not worrying amounts and he had noted that my bowels were quite backed up and wondered if my back pain may have been due to a slipped disc or other back complaint.

Over the next few hours various teams of doctors wanted to prod & poke me (or so I thought - all they wanted to do was look) and I was in a state of high anxiety. On 2 occasions when a doctor tried to lift my gown to inspect my scars my stomach muscles went into spasm and I screamed out. I’m also not proud to admit that I was a little abusive to a couple of staff members when politely requesting that they “don’t fucking hurt me any more..” The first night was brutal, much of which was of my own making. My mind was having constant dialogue regarding how can I possibly recover when my bowels are already backed up plus the extra pain of a slipped disc….. over and over, pain on top of pain, anxiety dancing with fear, please just breathe, please try and find a happy place…. It’s the closest to a feeling of insanity that I’ve ever experienced. I also didn’t move a muscle as I was too scared to move. I seemed to have wires and drains and bags and all sorts covering much of my upper body.

The next few days pass by very slowly. I’m drugged up to the eye balls and find it very difficult to speak. My wife spends hours with me every day and it is a real tonic. They try to get me moving as quickly as possible, starting with just lifting an arm and a leg to helping me out of bed and into a chair…. and then straight back to bed and sleep! (That was just day one!) I finally find out what is adorning my body. I have six scars of varying sizes (none particularly large.) I have my new stoma on the right of my abdomen, covered by a bag to collect the wee. It currently has 2 stents plus an extra drainage tube to assist drainage and internal healing. I have a Robinsons drain on the left side of my abdomen covered by a bag. This fluid is regularly tested for signs of infection plus leaking urine in the body cavity. I have a canula in my right wrist, in the top of my right hand and going into my neck on the right hand side to feed me, administer drugs etc.  I’m still a bit nervous of moving but my anxiety levels are improving daily - I can now stand being examined! Every day sees signs of improvement. My heart rate and blood pressure are a little raised at times and I have the odd temperature rise but nothing to worry about. 

Thursday night is not good as I have bad vomiting which results in a tube being inserted through my nose down into my stomach. However, although unpleasant, the tube is a godsend in taking pressure, and therefore pain away from the stomach and keeping any further nausea at bay.

On Friday I am finally moved onto the ward. The staff on Intensive Care have all been fantastic but it has been …..intensive! It’s from now on that my recovery starts to speed up. Every day I’m encouraged to walk more and more. I am able to get myself in and out of bed and, as my medication is gradually reduced so my positivity returns. As I still have a tube in my throat I can still hardly speak which is frustrating as I’m now more in the mood for talking.

Monday is a great day. I finally manage to open my bowels. It is not a wholly comfortable experience but a bit of a major breakthrough. The only time that the bowel experiences pain is when it is stretched and over the past few days mine has been stretched from pillar to post and been the major cause of my pain and discomfort. I’m changing my own stoma bags daily now after initial help from the stoma nurses and am pleasantly surprised at how straightforward it is.

On Tuesday my feeding via drip finally stops and I start solid food again. The hospital food is awful but Alice brings in homemade soup and mashed potato. That plus a bit of hospital porridge and yoghurt does me well. My bowels are continuing to work, albeit a bit explosively.

On Wednesday all my canulas are removed plus the Robinsons drain from my abdomen and the tube in my nose. It is hugely liberating to be rid of these bits and slowly get back to moving around normally.

On Thursday, before the stents are removed from my stoma I’m given a shot of antibiotics. Removing the stents can cause a bit of toxic shock so this is purely a precaution. The stents are finally removed and I’m free! I’m released at 3.00pm with party bags of stoma care stuff plus some pain relief patches and blood thinning injections which I have to administer every evening. After negotiating the 45 minute car ride back I am finally home and it is the best!

The many NHS professionals who have aided my recovery have all been fantastic and I can’t thank them enough. On 8th August this year I wasn’t aware that I had cancer. Less than two months later following major surgery I am cancer free! Who knows what the future may hold but I find it an extraordinary timeline. 

It’s now time for some recuperation. Regular small meals of super nutritious food, plenty of liquids, hopefully plenty of sleep and gradually increasing my activity levels. All in the comfort of my fabulous home surrounded by my fabulous family. Life is good!