Update on my recovery

Its been two weeks now since I had my operation, or procedure, as it's now called to remove my troublesome prostate gland so here's an update on my recovery progress. They reckon its quite a major operation so I'm happy that I haven't so far suffered any great pain, and I haven't needed any pain killers for well over a week. I eventually had a visit from the District nurse last Thursday, a week ago today, and she removed my staples. Yes, staples, I had been stapled back together, whatever happened to stitches. Anyway she had a look and said they're ready to come out, I'll do it now. I think I had about a dozen or so in three incisions, some came out easily, but others were a bit more stubborn. In the end it was no more painful than having the hairs on my nose plucked, a quick wince but in five minutes they were all gone.

Now one of the embarrassing bits about this operation is that in the aftermath your fitted with a catheter. It's a very alien thing at first and takes a bit of getting used to. Having a plastic bag strapped to your leg that fills up every couple of hours and needs decanting into the loo is at first a bit gross, but soon enough it just becomes something you've got to do. You can't leave it too long or it gets too heavy and is likely to drop down your leg which you really don't want because it will yank the tube coming out of your bits. Ouch! so you tend to only have that happen once, and after that you make sure you keep an eye on the contents of your bag and empty on a regular basis. At night is also a palava, having to connect up an additional night bag to your leg bag and of course somehow make sure you don't roll over in your sleep dragging the bag stand over for another ouch! moment in the middle of the night. You soon come to realise that plumbing is all about levels if you want stuff to flow the way it should flow.

So back to my district nurse who suggested that I may like to swap my bags for a much simpler go-flo job. She made an appointment for me that afternoon at the health centre to have a new system fitted. As I seemed quite able to get about I was given a much simpler bit of kit. This is simply a small plastic tube with a shut off valve worked by a little lever that slots into the end of my bit of rubber tubing and is strapped to my leg with a velcro band. So now instead of my wee just draining into a bag it stays in my bladder until I get the urge to pee. I then just go to the loo, open the valve and hey presto, it works a bit like normal. This is so much better and seemingly it will keep my bladder from getting lazy so that when they take the catheter out I'll get back to normality much quicker.
There's only one strange thing that happens with this system that seems weird and I don't know if it's normal. Just a second or so before I've completely emptied my bladder I get a sharp stinging sensation at the end of my bits. It's a bit like the sort of sensation you get when you test a battery with your tongue to see if it's dead. It only lasts an instant, and I don't have an explanation as to why it should happen, but it happens every single time I go to the loo. It's no big thing but the anticipation of it makes loo time an apprehensive affair. I don't know if urine is some sort of elecrolite, and the movement of it through the tubing causes some residual current to be set up or what, but it's very odd, and sometimes elicits a sharp intake of breath. Next tuesday I go in to Furness general to have this gubbins removed which I'm not looking forward too, but it will be good to get back to using my original body parts for doing what comes natural.

I'm still a bit uncomfortable around my midriff, where they went in, but that's slowly getting less and less noticeable. My main bit of discomfort is when I sit for a while in a hard chair, which puts pressure on the area where my prostate used to be. I suppose this will be the bit that takes the longest to heal up. But on the whole I'm doing alright, I've been out for a walk round Gill banks, and even went in to Ford Park for a morning on Tuesday so I'm on the mend. If the weather was better I'm sure I would be out and about more. As it is the weather has been pretty awful so I don't feel too bad about being stuck at home, although sometimes filling the days can take a slow turn, but on the whole I seem to fill them. Writing,  practicing my guitar, or reading the voyages of Capt. Cook has passed the time productively. This afternoon I think I will get out my watercolours a do a bit of painting whilst the storm blows over outside.   

A day at the theatre

I wonder if I hadn't set out on this dream of crossing oceans, learning to sail, buying a yacht, exploring the islands of the Caribbean, would I be in this waiting room at Preston Royal hospital at 7.30am on Wednesday 23rd of November. Perhaps not, perhaps I would have opted for the radio therapy, a rather less painful, less radical way of dealing with my cancerous prostate gland. I may even have gone for the watchful waiting option of doing nothing. After all it may not develop into a life threatening problem at all, that's how it is with this disease. But these alternatives would mean having very regular tests to keep an eye on its progress. The idea of going cruising and having this Damocles hammer hanging over our voyaging in the end swung the decision.

So there I am at 8am with my NHS backless smock and dressing gown being escorted to the theatre clutching a pillow I've been given to carry. I'm reminded of Ford Prefect in Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy who has to have a trusty towel with him prior to his excursions in hyperdrive. I don't think to ask why I'm carrying this pillow, but sheepishly follow directions as we trek the maze of corridors to finally be ushered into theatre 7, and the pre op room. Lucky 7 says my escort, but I'm not at all feeling lucky, I'm feeling distinctly nervous.

Carolyn is the antithesis and Jo her assistant, who exchange a sort of calming banter with me as I'm wired and pricked and readied for the reason I made it to here, next is oblivion until I come round in a bed on ward 15.

Jackie appears with a massive smile and a big hug, its about 3pm and my operation has been and gone. the surgeon pays a brief visit, tells me my prostate weighed 100g and is gone. Funnily enough I'm not in any pain but this tube stuck up my willie does feel decidedly odd. My only inclination of the op is a feeling in my midriff of perhaps being kicked, sort of tender but not what you'ld call painful.

 Jackie stays around until eight and we even manage a couple of games of backgammon then it's chucking out time and Jackie goes off to find a hotel for the night, and I settle in to hospital banter with the other inmates and the sights and sounds of ward 15. Next day I expect to be going home, but it doesn't quite go that way, I have to stay an extra night. Something to do with the amount of stuff in my drain bag. A bit of a disappointment but on Friday afternoon I'm out and on my way home.

I've been home now for a couple of days and apart from the inconvenience of having this catheter to deal with, which I've got for another ten days I'm feeling ok. It was not a very pleasant experience but by all accounts it should be a cure and that was what I wanted. The prospect of our high seas adventure without the threat of cancer hanging in the air will have made this trial more than worthwhile, although I'll have to wait about three months to get he all clear, but by all accounts it should be all behind us now.

As all this has been going on so has the ARC which has just set off from the Canaries on route for St Lucia and we've been tuning in to check their progress. We said three years ago that we would love to do this trip, before we knew how to sail, and after going through this last week trial we're starting to think seriously about entering for next year 2012. I have a feeling that we may have a plan coming together here.

MRI versus Radio 2

You get to do quite exciting things when you've been diagnosed with  signs of prostate cancer. Late August I had an MRI scan of my pelvic region with a friendly chap at furness general hospital. I changed into my Wee Willie Winkie nightshirt, although I was allowed to keep my underpants and my shoes and socks on, which at first seemed curious, although, once I entered the scanner room I had to take off my shoes, but at least letting me keep my undies and socks on maintained a modicum of dignity.

There's this giant polo mint contraption in the room and very little else, which is a nice shade of magnolia as opposed to the bright white of a polo. I lie down on this platform in front of the polo and the nice man explains that because of the noise that the machine makes I will be wearing headphones. Into these cans, as we call them in recording land, they will play me music. I ask what kind of music will they play and he says that I have a choice between radio 2 and the bay. This is not exactly a choice but more of a less of two evils, and so i plump for radio 2. Mr friendly leaves and I am transported forward into the bowls of the giant polo.

Radio 2 is now playing in my ears some insipid soul hit from the early eighties which I vaguely remember not likeing at the time and dont want to hear it now.

The machine suddenley begins to emit the most hidious noise like a very bad loop of an ultravox intro that just loops and at an excruciating volume. Radio 2 disappears beyond this onslaught and I am immersed in a cocophony of bad synth stuff. then after an age it stops and radio 2 once again excerts itself with another bad tune, I wish I had gone for the bay at this point. The timbre of the machine changes again and we're in a dr who/star treck bunch of noise. On and on this goes as I try to enter into some zen kinda state to prevent my body from moving so as not to blur the image. The origonal theme of the machine returns to ulravox on a loop before the vocals kick in. The whole experience is somewhat industrial, a bit like working in the bowels of a submarine on the slipways back in the 60s.

It's very loud but radio two is still getting through and so I push the headsphone back trying to relieve myself of this torture. The scan stuff is fine but the radio is the real torture here.The machine goes through more synth stuff until eventually I hear the friendly man ask me to breath in and hold my breath, which I do and after a few more minutes it's all over. Very enjoyable except for radio 2 I tell the operative, plain ear defenders would have been less painful. I am transported on the flatbed beyond the polo and its all over, not painfull at all and beyond the scope of mr friendly to explain to my satisfaction. Something about huge magnets and radio frequencies, which explained very little except that I felt I had been in an episode of Startrek.