You may recall that towards the beginning of this journey SandD kindly gave me their tropical fish and tank.
The fish have taken residence in the living room in what is a focal place for the family and they settled in well.
Amongst the fish there was a group of three guppies who swam around together, but three became a crowd and it looked like one was getting constantly chased away. The poor soul seemed to be being bullied.
On our return from holiday the "bullied" fish had sadly passed away.
This evening (a couple of weeks later) our son "The Huffty" told Kitten that he had good news. Apparently the fish had not died but had shrunk. Naturally we were little dismissive of this claim but found not one but two "shrunken" fish. Shrunken to a child's eyes but little babies to our grown up eyes.
My parents popped up yesterday and were here to witness the introduction of the shrunken fish. At one point in the discussion my mother turned to me and said "It hasn't really shrunk, has it?" Of course she realised what she had said immediately; especially when I gave her one of those looks.
It was good to see the parents and the Enochians popped over to make it a full session of my immediate family.
My parents are on a "flying visit" and will be going home today. They have come up to show some support and it is appreciated. We haven't seen the Enochians for a while so it was good to catch up.
Wednesday, 30 June 2010
Tuesday, 29 June 2010
A Little Insight
Over the last few days we have had two meetings at the Marsden. The first, with the surgeon on Friday, was downbeat and then the meeting on Monday steadied the ship. However, Kitten is still all at sea and not enjoying the wait until next Monday.
Today I received an appointment time for the CT Scan, which will be at 3.55pm on Thursday. This will be compared to the scan on the 3rd of June and will be discussed by the Multi-Disciplinary team on Friday afternoon.
After the meetings we recieve a copy of any written communications and, on this occasion, the surgeon wrote to the head of oncology. The following shows an extract from the letter. The tone of the letter conveys the surgeon's message of the meeting, so I thought it would give an insight into "come down" from being eager and prepared for surgery in two weeks time. .
The letter goes on to request a CT Scan, but the above conveys the surgeon's message
Monday, 28 June 2010
A Change of Mood
Personally, I feel much more comfortable after today's meeting.
The inference is that there is only a deviation from a curative approach if the illness has shown signs of moving outside the confines of control and the net of suggested control has widened.
Despite the fact that a combination of chemotherapy and radiotherapy would be "heavy artillery", I feel that if there is any doubt about surgery now then that would be my preferred option. It won't be a pleasant option but in some situations it is necessary to fight fire with fire. I haven't suffered enormously with chemotherapy and I am willing to take on real discomfort for the potential of a real result, though I would have preferred the easier option that seemed to exist a few days ago
Kitten is more apprehensive than me and does not enjoy the wait for a CT scan that has not taken place yet. The fact that the team will discuss my case on Friday afternoon but we will not be advised until Monday afternoon makes it more difficult for her. Of course, I will be apprehensive too, but whilst my optimism has returned I am always aware that there is no guarantee of a happy ending. It is this awareness that keeps me focused, keeps me moving forward and means that the environment can't keep me down for anything other than short periods. Bad moments are like "going to the well" to draw energy.
My calf strain is pretty much under control and there was a visit to the Mad Canadian for treatment before my visit to the Marsden. Apart from treating my leg, he is very helpful in enabling me to retain my focus. He was generous with his time in working on the tinnitus and some routine maintenance of the neck. My leg is feeling quite good now and so I will get back in the gym, though I will avoid running. If radiotherapy is part of the equation then I think it unlikely that I will be seeing to much of the gym in the near future but I plan to keep as active as possible in any eventuality.
The blogs I have written over the last few days convey the uncertainty that can arise if you are in this situation. Events having taken me to seeming certainty of surgery to the potential of only palliative care in very little time. It is nigh on impossible to micro manage the mood, so that it doesn't dip and it is natural to feel the uncertainty, but it is also helpful to feel more comfortable ground.
The inference is that there is only a deviation from a curative approach if the illness has shown signs of moving outside the confines of control and the net of suggested control has widened.
Despite the fact that a combination of chemotherapy and radiotherapy would be "heavy artillery", I feel that if there is any doubt about surgery now then that would be my preferred option. It won't be a pleasant option but in some situations it is necessary to fight fire with fire. I haven't suffered enormously with chemotherapy and I am willing to take on real discomfort for the potential of a real result, though I would have preferred the easier option that seemed to exist a few days ago
Kitten is more apprehensive than me and does not enjoy the wait for a CT scan that has not taken place yet. The fact that the team will discuss my case on Friday afternoon but we will not be advised until Monday afternoon makes it more difficult for her. Of course, I will be apprehensive too, but whilst my optimism has returned I am always aware that there is no guarantee of a happy ending. It is this awareness that keeps me focused, keeps me moving forward and means that the environment can't keep me down for anything other than short periods. Bad moments are like "going to the well" to draw energy.
My calf strain is pretty much under control and there was a visit to the Mad Canadian for treatment before my visit to the Marsden. Apart from treating my leg, he is very helpful in enabling me to retain my focus. He was generous with his time in working on the tinnitus and some routine maintenance of the neck. My leg is feeling quite good now and so I will get back in the gym, though I will avoid running. If radiotherapy is part of the equation then I think it unlikely that I will be seeing to much of the gym in the near future but I plan to keep as active as possible in any eventuality.
The blogs I have written over the last few days convey the uncertainty that can arise if you are in this situation. Events having taken me to seeming certainty of surgery to the potential of only palliative care in very little time. It is nigh on impossible to micro manage the mood, so that it doesn't dip and it is natural to feel the uncertainty, but it is also helpful to feel more comfortable ground.
A Nervous Wait
Today's appointment was not as revealing as I may have hoped but it did clarify some important issues.
Nothing can be decided until I have had another CT Scan. That will take place before the Marsden have their weekly "MDT" (Multi-Disciplinary Team) meeting on Friday afternoon. My case will be discussed then and an pathway forward will be established.
The CT scan will reveal if any secondary cancer has developed. If that were the case then treatment will be palliative rather than cure focused. The same might be said if the tumour has grown significantly since the chemotherapy finished and the last CT scan was taken on 3rd June.
Assuming that the tumour is still local and hasn't grown too much there will still be the objective of operating to completely remove the cancer. One of the following treatments will then be employed
Option 2 would represent the need for more aggressive treatment to get the cancer under control
Option 3 would mean that the oncology team had discussed the situation with the surgeon and it has been decided that operating now is viable.
The point about option 3 is that the oncology team do seem to have a higher opinion of how successful the chemotherapy has been than the surgeon has.
Nothing can be decided until I have had another CT Scan. That will take place before the Marsden have their weekly "MDT" (Multi-Disciplinary Team) meeting on Friday afternoon. My case will be discussed then and an pathway forward will be established.
The CT scan will reveal if any secondary cancer has developed. If that were the case then treatment will be palliative rather than cure focused. The same might be said if the tumour has grown significantly since the chemotherapy finished and the last CT scan was taken on 3rd June.
Assuming that the tumour is still local and hasn't grown too much there will still be the objective of operating to completely remove the cancer. One of the following treatments will then be employed
- More chemotherapy
- A combination of radiotherapy and chemotherapy
- Surgery
Option 2 would represent the need for more aggressive treatment to get the cancer under control
Option 3 would mean that the oncology team had discussed the situation with the surgeon and it has been decided that operating now is viable.
The point about option 3 is that the oncology team do seem to have a higher opinion of how successful the chemotherapy has been than the surgeon has.
Sunday, 27 June 2010
Steadying the Ship
I have already blogged on Friday's meeting with the surgeon but I didn't mention the following, which gives an insight into our thoughts before tomorrow's meeting with the oncologist.
When the surgeon was explaining his reluctance to go ahead with the planned operation, Kitten asked the question "Have you had good results with many people who have been in the is situation?"
This question had to be put into the context that the surgeon is one of the very best in his field.
The answer was "No". There was an example of one patient where he had been able to increase the patient's life expectancy but not one of cure.
It should be remembered that he considered me to be borderline in the first place back in February.
That is the backdrop against which we are operating tomorrow.
Kitten and I have discussed the situation today. I think that we needed yesterday to let the dust settle. I would prefer any pathway, regardless of degree of aggression or risk, that would put me in a position where we can get this thing under control with the possibility of its complete removal. Whether that option is open is another matter.
We have to be guided by expert opinion but, needless to say, I have done a degree of homework and will question and probe as I see fit (as usual).
Times like these are real crossroads in lives and the fact that this is physical is not different from major events in others lives, regardless of the event's orientation. I will approach it with a cool head and let my heart guide my reaction.
When the surgeon was explaining his reluctance to go ahead with the planned operation, Kitten asked the question "Have you had good results with many people who have been in the is situation?"
This question had to be put into the context that the surgeon is one of the very best in his field.
The answer was "No". There was an example of one patient where he had been able to increase the patient's life expectancy but not one of cure.
It should be remembered that he considered me to be borderline in the first place back in February.
That is the backdrop against which we are operating tomorrow.
Kitten and I have discussed the situation today. I think that we needed yesterday to let the dust settle. I would prefer any pathway, regardless of degree of aggression or risk, that would put me in a position where we can get this thing under control with the possibility of its complete removal. Whether that option is open is another matter.
We have to be guided by expert opinion but, needless to say, I have done a degree of homework and will question and probe as I see fit (as usual).
Times like these are real crossroads in lives and the fact that this is physical is not different from major events in others lives, regardless of the event's orientation. I will approach it with a cool head and let my heart guide my reaction.
Race for Life
Today was "Race for Life" day on the Epsom Downs.
This is an event which Kitten and Boogle, Sushi, Saucy Sue and Banana had planned to do since January and this being before any awareness of my illness.
Unfortunately Saucy Sue and her daughter "Banana" had to pull out. Our thoughts are with them as they have been having a difficult time of late.
So it was off to Epsom Downs on a beautiful but ferociously hot day. The 5K event can be run, jogged or walked and our super fit bunnies were walking. They did a marvellous job of raising a substantial amount for Cancer Research UK. I am not sure what the final total is but I believe it to be in the region between 800 and 900 pounds.
Well done girls.
In the spirit of anonimity and of the blog here is a picture taken after the event. I can assure you that in real life the participant's head is well and truly on their shoulders.
Unbelievably, considering today's heat, a couple of wags did the course in pantomime horse costume.
Apart from being there to cheer on the girls, my best moment was catching Notoplip in a moment of concentration. Whilst leaning down over the pushchair tending to his youngest the first of the runners were coming up the finishing straight. So I said, "quick, look. Here comes Paula Radcliffe". He stood up quickly and said "Where, where", before realising that I had caught him off-guard. A cracker. Needless to say that he got me back later when we were on our way to watch the England v Germany game.
This is an event which Kitten and Boogle, Sushi, Saucy Sue and Banana had planned to do since January and this being before any awareness of my illness.
Unfortunately Saucy Sue and her daughter "Banana" had to pull out. Our thoughts are with them as they have been having a difficult time of late.
So it was off to Epsom Downs on a beautiful but ferociously hot day. The 5K event can be run, jogged or walked and our super fit bunnies were walking. They did a marvellous job of raising a substantial amount for Cancer Research UK. I am not sure what the final total is but I believe it to be in the region between 800 and 900 pounds.
Well done girls.
In the spirit of anonimity and of the blog here is a picture taken after the event. I can assure you that in real life the participant's head is well and truly on their shoulders.
Unbelievably, considering today's heat, a couple of wags did the course in pantomime horse costume.
Apart from being there to cheer on the girls, my best moment was catching Notoplip in a moment of concentration. Whilst leaning down over the pushchair tending to his youngest the first of the runners were coming up the finishing straight. So I said, "quick, look. Here comes Paula Radcliffe". He stood up quickly and said "Where, where", before realising that I had caught him off-guard. A cracker. Needless to say that he got me back later when we were on our way to watch the England v Germany game.
Saturday, 26 June 2010
Getting a Grip
Kitten and I have been coming to terms with yesterday's news.
Now that I am not in a good enough position to continue with the protocol treatment we have to hope that being in the hands of one of the world's best oncology teams will pay dividends.
I posed the question on Friday as to whether the trial drug bevacizumab may have been responsible for the tumour's rebound as this is a view that seems to be gaining credence in the treatment of other cancers. It is something to consider in greater detail when meeting the oncologist rather than the surgeon though.
The main thing now is to steady the ship. We have gone from having the security of an operation date and a clear channel ahead to not knowing how the cancer will treated and whether this is any likelihood of a complete cure.
I've always found that a clear head is best in difficult situations and the blog helps in that respect. Naturally, I have been talking with people who are close to me since yesterday but the blog is carthatic in helping me to consolidate what I am thinking and feelling.
Potentially disastrous events can often turn out to be more trivial or to be of benefit once the dust settles. We will have a better picture on Monday, but there will still be uncertainty. Even if we go the additonal chemotherapy route we will not know whether it has worked until it finishes and we see whether the tumour rebounds again.
I'm not flapping but it is difficult to avoid the same emotions surfacing as when I was first diagnosed, in relation to my children.
It is unlikely that anyone cruises through cancer, as it is a journey which is always destined to leave an indelible footprint. I don't mind a difficult ride, just so long as I get the right result.
A busy day tomorrow with the Race for Life event, England v Germany and Argentina v Mexico will make the time pass quickly before our meeting (not that I expect Kitten to enjoy the last two events!)
Now that I am not in a good enough position to continue with the protocol treatment we have to hope that being in the hands of one of the world's best oncology teams will pay dividends.
I posed the question on Friday as to whether the trial drug bevacizumab may have been responsible for the tumour's rebound as this is a view that seems to be gaining credence in the treatment of other cancers. It is something to consider in greater detail when meeting the oncologist rather than the surgeon though.
The main thing now is to steady the ship. We have gone from having the security of an operation date and a clear channel ahead to not knowing how the cancer will treated and whether this is any likelihood of a complete cure.
I've always found that a clear head is best in difficult situations and the blog helps in that respect. Naturally, I have been talking with people who are close to me since yesterday but the blog is carthatic in helping me to consolidate what I am thinking and feelling.
Potentially disastrous events can often turn out to be more trivial or to be of benefit once the dust settles. We will have a better picture on Monday, but there will still be uncertainty. Even if we go the additonal chemotherapy route we will not know whether it has worked until it finishes and we see whether the tumour rebounds again.
I'm not flapping but it is difficult to avoid the same emotions surfacing as when I was first diagnosed, in relation to my children.
It is unlikely that anyone cruises through cancer, as it is a journey which is always destined to leave an indelible footprint. I don't mind a difficult ride, just so long as I get the right result.
A busy day tomorrow with the Race for Life event, England v Germany and Argentina v Mexico will make the time pass quickly before our meeting (not that I expect Kitten to enjoy the last two events!)
Friday, 25 June 2010
Bad News but Mixed Blessings
I attended my impromptu appointment at the Marsden this afternoon and the news was not good, so it is a good job that I am in the relaxed mood that I described earlier today.
I have mentioned that since finishing chemotherapy it has become harder for me to eat again and I discussed this with the oncology team on Monday.
This was fed back to the surgeon (in what seems to have been a slightly exaggerated manner) and, allied with the results of recent blood tests, it seems that the cancer is fighting back now that it has breathing space from the onslaught of chemotherapy. This is an unusual situation and shows the voracity and volatility of my cancer.
I have said in the past that when I was diagnosed I was borderline operable. First there was the worry that there was secondary cancer but also there is a significant amount of regional metastases i.e. bits of tumour outside oesophagus but not in remote parts of the body. This was highlighted when I had the endoscopic ultrasound report and explains why I was keen to get into theatre.
As a borderline operable case it was a concern to me that chemotherapy did a good job because long term survival is only likely with complete removal of the cancer.
The aim of the chemotherapy was to shrink the tumour, hopefully get rid of some of the regional "flotsam" and generally clear some of the little bits of cancer floating around in the bloodstream. Prevous discussions about the chemotherapy results were optimistic despite there not being any downward reclassification of the cancer.
My appointment today was with the main man on the Surgical team. Whilst the chemotherapy has been successful, to a degree, he was concerned about the results when taking into account the difficulties eating and also the tumour counts shown by the blood tests.
It will come as no surprise to some that we seem to have a "volatile fella" on our hands. The tumour counts fell drastically during treatments and now they are rebounding drastically.
So here's the issue; if the surgeon goes ahead with the operation as per the schedule then there is a real risk that cancer could fight back significantly between the operation and the resumption of chemotherapy 10 weeks later (the body needs this time after surgery to build its strength before chemotherapy). Also, given that the reduction in the cancer is not as much as we might have hoped for the surgeon may find it difficult to remove all of it. It is the surgeon's job to ensure that all of visible cancer is removed and the microscopic bits are dealt with by the chemotherapy.
So, the suggestion is that we need to go back to the head oncologist and see whether further cycles of chemotherapy are considered a viable path before surgery. We know that
If further chemotherapy is considered the way forward then it is likely to start next week and may be another 3 or 4 cycles before surgery. There will also be another CT Scan to measure the growth of the tumour since the end of chemotherapy. If we follow that route and the tumour still can't be held in abeyance then there are real problems. Similarly, if the oncologist does not feel that additional chemotherapy is the right route then there is also trouble ahead.
So what's the good news? The good news is that the problem has been discovered now rather than after surgery. It is a combination of factors that have caused the surgeon to question the performance since the end of chemotherapy not least the fact that my oncology appointment was delayed due to our and the oncologist's holidays. If I had the oncology appointment immediately after the end of chemotherapy then the eating difficulties and the tumour counts would not have been so pronounced and may have passed under the radar. Discovering a re-ignition of the tumour after surgery would have been a hammer blow and at least that has been avoided.
Kitten was upset and described it as the worst moment since I received news of the diagnosis, which is probably true. I have worked hard to take charge of my mental and emotional state and that has put me in a good place which, I believe, will help us approach this next phase in a more relaxed and collective way. That means that I will be less self-absorbed.
Another curry with Sushi and Notoplip was a good instant fix and we will move forward to Monday with an open mind and hopeful that the oncologist can see a clear path forward.
I have mentioned that since finishing chemotherapy it has become harder for me to eat again and I discussed this with the oncology team on Monday.
This was fed back to the surgeon (in what seems to have been a slightly exaggerated manner) and, allied with the results of recent blood tests, it seems that the cancer is fighting back now that it has breathing space from the onslaught of chemotherapy. This is an unusual situation and shows the voracity and volatility of my cancer.
I have said in the past that when I was diagnosed I was borderline operable. First there was the worry that there was secondary cancer but also there is a significant amount of regional metastases i.e. bits of tumour outside oesophagus but not in remote parts of the body. This was highlighted when I had the endoscopic ultrasound report and explains why I was keen to get into theatre.
As a borderline operable case it was a concern to me that chemotherapy did a good job because long term survival is only likely with complete removal of the cancer.
The aim of the chemotherapy was to shrink the tumour, hopefully get rid of some of the regional "flotsam" and generally clear some of the little bits of cancer floating around in the bloodstream. Prevous discussions about the chemotherapy results were optimistic despite there not being any downward reclassification of the cancer.
My appointment today was with the main man on the Surgical team. Whilst the chemotherapy has been successful, to a degree, he was concerned about the results when taking into account the difficulties eating and also the tumour counts shown by the blood tests.
It will come as no surprise to some that we seem to have a "volatile fella" on our hands. The tumour counts fell drastically during treatments and now they are rebounding drastically.
So here's the issue; if the surgeon goes ahead with the operation as per the schedule then there is a real risk that cancer could fight back significantly between the operation and the resumption of chemotherapy 10 weeks later (the body needs this time after surgery to build its strength before chemotherapy). Also, given that the reduction in the cancer is not as much as we might have hoped for the surgeon may find it difficult to remove all of it. It is the surgeon's job to ensure that all of visible cancer is removed and the microscopic bits are dealt with by the chemotherapy.
So, the suggestion is that we need to go back to the head oncologist and see whether further cycles of chemotherapy are considered a viable path before surgery. We know that
- The tumour responds to chemotherapy
- The tumour must be contained in order for me to have a fighting chance of successful surgery and a good long term outlook
- I have ridden the initial cycles of chemotherapy well and am of an age where we can be aggressive in the treatment
If further chemotherapy is considered the way forward then it is likely to start next week and may be another 3 or 4 cycles before surgery. There will also be another CT Scan to measure the growth of the tumour since the end of chemotherapy. If we follow that route and the tumour still can't be held in abeyance then there are real problems. Similarly, if the oncologist does not feel that additional chemotherapy is the right route then there is also trouble ahead.
So what's the good news? The good news is that the problem has been discovered now rather than after surgery. It is a combination of factors that have caused the surgeon to question the performance since the end of chemotherapy not least the fact that my oncology appointment was delayed due to our and the oncologist's holidays. If I had the oncology appointment immediately after the end of chemotherapy then the eating difficulties and the tumour counts would not have been so pronounced and may have passed under the radar. Discovering a re-ignition of the tumour after surgery would have been a hammer blow and at least that has been avoided.
Kitten was upset and described it as the worst moment since I received news of the diagnosis, which is probably true. I have worked hard to take charge of my mental and emotional state and that has put me in a good place which, I believe, will help us approach this next phase in a more relaxed and collective way. That means that I will be less self-absorbed.
Another curry with Sushi and Notoplip was a good instant fix and we will move forward to Monday with an open mind and hopeful that the oncologist can see a clear path forward.
Nice and Relaxed
My last post was about fear, primarily because it is a topic that raises it head as a question when I talk with people.
In truth I am probably nore relaxed now than I have been at any part of the process. No-one in their right mind would look forward to a heavy duty operation on physical level but it means that we remove all the significant bits of the cancer and then let the chemotherapy do the rest.
The World Cup is a great distraction and Sunday will be busy as not only are England playing but Kitten, Boogle, Sushi, Saucy Sue and Banana are participating in the Cancer Research "Race for Life". I will be going to wait at the finish line to congratulate them when they complete the course but will obviously have one eye on the clock for the beginning of the match! They have collected a tidy sum in sponsorship.
This morning I had a call from the Marsden to ask me to attend the surgeon's clinic this afternoon at 4pm and also a letter regarding admission for surgery. It seems that the admission will be on Monday 12th rather than Tuesday 13th (as I was advised verbally).
I had another visit (following on from the Friday before my holiday) to the osteopath this morning to try and sort out my "achilles" problem, which is actually a calf strain, so at least I am not hobbling about so much. The mad Canadian continues to pay dividends.
With the calf problem I have relinquished the idea of trying to get fit before the operation and prefer to just relax and stop pushing. When I get out of theatre I will be at "Ground Zero", so it will be good to get there from a lower level.
Things are moving quickly even if I am not.
In truth I am probably nore relaxed now than I have been at any part of the process. No-one in their right mind would look forward to a heavy duty operation on physical level but it means that we remove all the significant bits of the cancer and then let the chemotherapy do the rest.
The World Cup is a great distraction and Sunday will be busy as not only are England playing but Kitten, Boogle, Sushi, Saucy Sue and Banana are participating in the Cancer Research "Race for Life". I will be going to wait at the finish line to congratulate them when they complete the course but will obviously have one eye on the clock for the beginning of the match! They have collected a tidy sum in sponsorship.
This morning I had a call from the Marsden to ask me to attend the surgeon's clinic this afternoon at 4pm and also a letter regarding admission for surgery. It seems that the admission will be on Monday 12th rather than Tuesday 13th (as I was advised verbally).
I had another visit (following on from the Friday before my holiday) to the osteopath this morning to try and sort out my "achilles" problem, which is actually a calf strain, so at least I am not hobbling about so much. The mad Canadian continues to pay dividends.
With the calf problem I have relinquished the idea of trying to get fit before the operation and prefer to just relax and stop pushing. When I get out of theatre I will be at "Ground Zero", so it will be good to get there from a lower level.
Things are moving quickly even if I am not.
Wednesday, 23 June 2010
Fear
Whilst I have considered the trauma that the operation brings it doesn't bring much fear.
The only fears (except one) that I have are fears that would be normal with any surgery and these are largely overridden by my desire to get on with things.
The issue of fear is a recurring theme for those close to me who want to scrape deeper, so I will try and be as open and honest as possible here.
The anaesthetic always gives me a little cause for concern because this is always a dangerous aspect of surgery, I have read that it is an issue with the type of surgery that I will undergo (The Ivor Lewis Oesophagectomy). I am always a little apprehensive about anaesthetic for the obvious reason that there is a possibility that I could be "lost", but any apprehension is diluted by the fact that I am in the very best hands. The fact that I have already undergone an anaesthetic at the same hospital in March gives me extra reassurance.
There is a little fear that the operation won't be successful; not in terms of removing the cancer but in terms of getting me back together. That is the most difficult part of the surgery and the one prone to the most likelihood of failure. Again, I am comforted by having the very best team of surgeons. My attitude is that if they can't manage it then I was f****** anyway. That may be blunt but it should be put into context that I have the mindset that I have been given another shot at life, as if my tumour had not been discovered when it was then I would probably have been a write off.
I don't fear any pain because I know that this will be transient and that I will be receiving good "pain management".
So what do I fear?
There is a weakness in my psyche and this was borne of my experience with the first endoscopy I had. I elected to have it without any anaesthetic. I did so whilst not knowing that I had a large tumour for the tube to navigate. It wasn't a pleasant experience and I had to fight feeling that had the potential to develop into a panic attack during the process. I took the same fear into the endoscopic ultrasound which was a similar but more intrusive process but with the glory of pethidine. So what is spooking me, not the large endoscopy tube but the a 5mm tube from my nose to my stomach for a few days after the operation.
I probably won't even feel it but I don't want to because I don't want to invoke my previous experiences.
The truth is that this is the least of my worries, but the mind can be a curious thing. Naturally, I am resigned to dealing with this head on and when I get there I probably won't even notice it. However, I may not have seen the end of the endoscopy tube, as I believe that it can be used a number of times to stretch the oesophagus months after the operation, if scar tissue restricts the passage.
Best get used to it.
The only fears (except one) that I have are fears that would be normal with any surgery and these are largely overridden by my desire to get on with things.
The issue of fear is a recurring theme for those close to me who want to scrape deeper, so I will try and be as open and honest as possible here.
The anaesthetic always gives me a little cause for concern because this is always a dangerous aspect of surgery, I have read that it is an issue with the type of surgery that I will undergo (The Ivor Lewis Oesophagectomy). I am always a little apprehensive about anaesthetic for the obvious reason that there is a possibility that I could be "lost", but any apprehension is diluted by the fact that I am in the very best hands. The fact that I have already undergone an anaesthetic at the same hospital in March gives me extra reassurance.
There is a little fear that the operation won't be successful; not in terms of removing the cancer but in terms of getting me back together. That is the most difficult part of the surgery and the one prone to the most likelihood of failure. Again, I am comforted by having the very best team of surgeons. My attitude is that if they can't manage it then I was f****** anyway. That may be blunt but it should be put into context that I have the mindset that I have been given another shot at life, as if my tumour had not been discovered when it was then I would probably have been a write off.
I don't fear any pain because I know that this will be transient and that I will be receiving good "pain management".
So what do I fear?
There is a weakness in my psyche and this was borne of my experience with the first endoscopy I had. I elected to have it without any anaesthetic. I did so whilst not knowing that I had a large tumour for the tube to navigate. It wasn't a pleasant experience and I had to fight feeling that had the potential to develop into a panic attack during the process. I took the same fear into the endoscopic ultrasound which was a similar but more intrusive process but with the glory of pethidine. So what is spooking me, not the large endoscopy tube but the a 5mm tube from my nose to my stomach for a few days after the operation.
I probably won't even feel it but I don't want to because I don't want to invoke my previous experiences.
The truth is that this is the least of my worries, but the mind can be a curious thing. Naturally, I am resigned to dealing with this head on and when I get there I probably won't even notice it. However, I may not have seen the end of the endoscopy tube, as I believe that it can be used a number of times to stretch the oesophagus months after the operation, if scar tissue restricts the passage.
Best get used to it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)