Cut Out The Middle Man

Another potential title for this blog I think.

Actually it came up when J and I were waiting at the hospital last night to see Mr Bain. I saw a cancer charity collection box and suggested we could just leg it with the money ie: Cut out the middle man.. Then we realised.

You gotta laugh. Well - we did.

Less so with the doctor. This is fucking serious stuff. There are percentages all over the place with this sort of bowel cancer - to do with mortality ( 5%). Recurrence - reduced by 50% if I have the radiotherapy before the surgery. Impotence - 10- 12 % chance. ( Oh - and I can get one Viagra a week on the NHS! Please Sir, Can I Have Some More... )

J wrote down the other stats - I suddenly lost the ability to write.

And all sorts of things that can go wrong with the op itself. Blockages. Twistings. Peritonitis. Blood clots.

Waiting for the analysis of the bits he takes out will be bad -that's when they finally decide the grade of cancer I have on the Dukes Scale. This then determines survival chances ( more percentages) whether I have chemo, permanent colostomy etc.

Oh - someone was asking about the colostomy? That's what a Stoma Nurse deals with. Seeing her next week. If you're not eating at the moment, here's more info here.

Even when the op is over and after the recovery and then the reconnection in six months, there will be three monthly check ups. Then after five years clear, you're clear.

But he answered all our questions - we didn't feel rushed at all. At the end I asked him what was the main thing that patients didn't ask him but he thought I should know. ( J later said it was funny to watch us doing our squaring-up-to-each-other-as-fellow-professionals thing ) He said that it's the rollercoaster - the post op "I'm Alive " elation, the hospital glums, the setbacks, the getting home slowness, the stress.

Not sure how you can prepare for that but I am going to go and see a counsellor about that stuff - to try and see if that might help me prepare. At least it will be someone uninvolved to talk to.

So the the facts.

The Radiotherapy will be at Newcastle General from 16 - 20 January.

The Surgery will be on Tuesday 24 January - I'll go into hospital the day before. More Picolax for me! In hospital for 8-10 days.

And yes, it's the Nash and University Hospital North Durham for me. (Still with Mr Bain thank goodness and on the same timescale.) I spoke to the Administrator of the Health Scheme yesterday and she confirmed that they only cover cancer and heart disease to diagnosis. I discovered that I've never been sent the scheme booklet and when it arrived today, it was a class example of weaselly bollocks:

"Please be aware that the Trustees will always promote a centre of excellence policy with regard to Oncology and Cancer Treatment in particular, and where they deem it to be in the Members best interest, once a diagnosis and prognosis has been made, will implement a transfer to such a unit. This may well lie within the NHS... "

But that's fine. Nothing against the NHS at all. I'm sure it'll be great. And the hospital is next door to Durham Station and in the middle of the city. Much easier for visiting.

But the whole hour was a rough ride.

Afterwards we went for a beer and then home for an Indian and more wine. Lots of talk. Some planning. Lots of holding. Some laughing. ( And yes, a bit of weeping.)

Boy - are we pissed off that I have cancer!

I didn't sleep much last night - just rehearsing stuff. But actually feel pretty much OK this morning. Just a bit dopey.

J off to fight Tesco's - then to her girls for Christmas. Back on Boxing Day. Mum and G here at 2.00pm. I should be tidying not blogging!

And in some weird meataphor for my life, I'm waiting for the plumber! No - a real one. I've got no fucking hot water!