You've never seen a photo like this before...
(First Published April 28th 2024)
I think it’s good to pull the reader in with a catchy hook of a title. I’m not sure that dreary, cancer based titles are the way forward these days. There is special bonus content included…whether it comes across as special or a bonus is not for me to say, but more of that later. Back to the dreary cancer based blog.
When I last wrote, last weekend, I was playing a waiting game. I am still playing a waiting game but much has changed. ‘Much has changed’ seems to be happening a lot at the moment. In many ways it is a good thing but I’m not convinced that I really need all this excitement in my life at the moment. On Monday I had another phone call from the Hospital. The voice seemed very familiar and I think it was the lady that had diagnosed me as being cancer free whilst trying to book me in for a pre-op last Friday. Positive news though, I’m booked in for a pre-op on Wednesday in two days time.
Wednesday arrives and I make my way to Hickstead Ward at the Princess Royal Hospital. Unlike the fabulous new Urology unit, Hickstead Ward would seem to be one of the original 1980’s wings of the Hospital. The waiting area is a very long, very narrow corridor with chairs lined up along one wall. As people walk past I have to pull my knees in and tuck my feet under my chair to avoid tripping them up. I head to my ‘go to’ Hospital waiting room entertainment. Sudoku. There is perfectly good Wifi at the Hospital but I have little interest in any social media or news right now. I just want to keep my brain distracted. There is tinny music playing which would seem to be coming from the phone of a lady sitting a couple of chairs down. “How rude,” I think to myself. Do we really want to be subjected to her poor taste in 90’s pop music? I don’t think so. She is called in before me and the music continues…I look up and realise that it is Hospital radio coming out of a tiny speaker in the roof, yet another reminder that in my current state I should really count to 10 before making judgement calls.
My turn arrives after a couple of completed games and it only takes the two go’s to get an acceptable blood pressure reading. I’m not as fat as I worried I might be and I haven’t started shrinking yet. Five years ago, when I had my last pre-op I had to give a swab to check for MRSA. This time I am merely asked if I have a history of MRSA. I can only assume that this is yet another cost cutting exercise but if I end up with a superbug following my surgery I will be mightily pissed off! Finally, it is time for the urine sample and I am fully prepared with my stock answer that I get to regurgitate at least twice a year. Not this time Sunny Jim…the Nurse wants a urine sample and my speech just doesn’t cut it. Do I have a clean bag I can put on? No…(actually I do, in the back of my car a few hundred yards away but rational thought just flew out of the window.) The Nurse disappears to the Urology department to see what she can find and returns with a bag that is very different from what I’m used to. I tell her that I need a pair of scissors to cut the hole to the right size so she disappears again. Finally, I tell her that I need a towel to put over my legs, a bag to put the used bag into plus some hot water and some dry wipes. After what seems like an age I manage to change my bag for a fresh one (in a strange place, with different equipment plus an audience…there’s nothing like routine) and I get to wait outside whilst my kidneys do their work and once that’s done I’m free to leave. I go straight home, change my bag for one that I am comfortable with and head off to work. Job done.
‘Special Bonus Content…’
As promised, I am offering readers a once in a lifetime opportunity to view a very special photograph…of the inside of my urethra, lump and all. This is the photo that the Consultant chose to take during my procedure last week. I have seen this lump from many different angles, some of which I’m convinced I could see teeth plus clumps of hair.
When I had my initial diagnosis five years ago I did much research into the various options and treatments available. Since my procedure last week plus having a copy of this photo I have done five minutes of research. I’m not going to fall into the trap of diagnosing myself, I shall leave that to the experts. I will say, however, that I have seen pictures almost identical to mine in a handful of scientific journals.
I thought it might be considered to be in bad taste to put such an intimate picture in the middle of this blog plus there may be many people who can think of nothing worse to look at on a Sunday evening so, instead, I’m putting a link below that will take you directly to the photo in my Dropbox account. If you are viewing it on a mobile device you don’t need the app. You get the option of going directly to the webpage.
Any thoughts or comments are welcomed, whether by healthcare professionals or Joe Public. I am beyond shockable now.
Back at work I have little time to ponder. There is a big canapé event to prepare for plus a further three buffets on Thursday and one on Friday. Also, due to some extraordinary circumstances, this week at work has been like an extended version of the film Boiling Point. Will we all survive the week?
My hand grenade of anxiety is still there although its behaviour has changed. It now comes along in waves. Some waves are small and some waves are big enough to have me nearly buckling at the knees. A phone call on Friday confirms that I have passed my pre-op and am booked in for the operation next Saturday 4th May. I’m impressed, very impressed. The Consultant wanted me on the operating table two to four weeks after my flexible cystoscopy last week. It will be two weeks and two days which is a real result. I am also nervous, very nervous. After my previous operation five years ago I woke up too early. I was still on the operating table. There was much commotion, much pain and much stress. I’m sure that this may be unusual but it’s not a memory that is going to leave me. I’ve also been advised to take the week off work following the operation which makes me think that although they will take a biopsy there will probably be a lot more digging around as well. I don’t like pain. Is that so unusual?
To finish, I think it’s only appropriate to include an updated couple of pictures of our apple trees which are looking even better than they were last week (and still, no doubt, blissfully unaware that I’m losing my marbles just a few yards away.)
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