“THIS WON’T HURT, HONEST…” ARRGGGHH!
“This won’t hurt, honest…” ARRGGGHH!
I hate doctors. They’re liars. When I asked about the surgical machine on my sac and whether it would hurt afterwards, they flashed me glazed smiles and said “no, just a little discomfort maybe.”
“A little discomfort” turned discover to be three days of feeling like my lower abdomen had been driven over at speed by an 18-wheeler, then stamped on by entire stadium full of disorder nation soccer fans.
Mind you there were mitigating circumstances. Most sac surgery is done in a non-invasive fashion, i.e. with everything required inserted up your wee-hole as against via an incision. In my housing the little CCTV cameras they use so they crapper wager what they’re doing didn’t work. One, two, three and four every failed.
Mercifully sort 5 produced a good represent but by this time nearly an hour had elapsed on a machine that shouldn’t take longer than 10 minutes. Hence a lot more bruising, bashing, bowing and tweaking than Mike Tyson’s face conventional during his entire enclosing career.
I had chosen a spinal (epidural) drug which was great in digit way, as I didn’t get the hangover related with a GA. But it meant I was wide awaken to hear every the four-letter text and curses used by the surgeons when the succession of camera gizmos evidenced useless. I learned a few newborn ones, too; the head surgeon was individual and the sort 2 was from the East Indian sub-continent, so I crapper today swear fluently in at least digit African and digit Asiatic language.
And when my lowermost half regained consciousness, oh, whoops. Did that ever hurt.
Anyway on to funnier things and click here for an anecdote about sac cancer treatment that had me actuation around laughing. It’s from fellow Cancer Blogger David Ferdinando and his My Bladder Cancer Journey - take a look at that blog, it’s excellent and very informative about this increasingly ordinary disease.
Only four weeks to go today and I start my immunotherapy treatments. The doctors feature they don’t hurt, either … yes, right…
Is it rattling more than two months since I last posted? Yikes!
Well, well, doesn’t time fly when your hair is growing backwards and your chemo side-effects are abating, albeit slowly. Impatient though I was to stop feeling so tired and get disembarrass of every the added niggling symptoms, I had to keep reminding myself that after sextet months of existence steadily poisoned, you don’t get disembarrass of every that toxic junk overnight.
Mostly today I’m backwards to normal, but it’s funny: if I exaggerate things or have a late night, some of my symptoms become backwards for a day or two - like offense sickness or a sore tongue. There’s still a taste of that junk lurking.
Anyway on Monday July 31st my son and I leave our animals and home in our house-sitting friends’ confident hands and convey home to Canada until Sept 1st. I’ll be in the Toronto Atlantic and if some of you want to occurrence me while I’m there you crapper email me on suzetheschmooze@hotmail.com. We will also be visiting our good friend Barb the boob cancer warrior in Minnesota (see deposit for her hilarious accounts of “drive-thru mastectomies” etc.) I’ve never been to the “twin cities” before so this rattling will be a newborn adventure.
I dropped by the onco unit at the hospital the added day after I’d seen the doctor for a scrutiny (all OK so far) and had a great time chatting to the nurses and some of the patients I’d met while on chemo. I even bumped into my dear next-door edge Barbara who was having still added murder transfusion (they do both chemo and haematology at the unit) and we chatted over a cup of tea to assuage her boredom. Blood transfusions take ages. Barbara had just been diagnosed with leukaemia which was the inevitable outcome of her longterm murder condition, but had been told she had at least a assemblage if not two, and was feeling OK. The following week she got an infection and sadly passed away. I wept at her funeral and shall miss her dreadfully. Not every warriors win.
But Barbara, existence the glad soul she was, wouldn’t want us to be depressing at her expiration - at least she was spared long months of weakness, discompose and indignity. In her memory, here is a gag I know would have made her giggle…
~~~~~~~~~~
Upon incoming home, a husband was met at the door by his sobbing wife. Tearfully she explained, “It’s the druggist. He insulted me terribly this morning on the phone. I had to call binary times before he would even respond the phone.”
Immediately, the husband drove downtown to play the druggist and demand an apology. Before he could feature more than a word or two, the druggist told him, “Now, just a minute, listen to my lateral of it. This morning the signal failed to go off, so I was late getting up. I went without breakfast and hurried discover to the car, just to actualise that I’d locked the house with both house and automobile keys inside and had to fortuity a window to get my keys.”
“Then, driving a little too fast, I got a speeding ticket.
“Later, when I was about three blocks from the store, I had a flat tire.
“When I finally got to the store a clump of grouping were waiting for me to unstoppered up. I got the store unsealed and started waiting on these people, every the time the darn sound was sound soured the hook.”
He continued, “then I had to fortuity a listing of nickels against the modify run drawer to make change, and they spilled every over the floor. I had to get down on my hands and knees to garner up the nickels and the sound was still ringing.”
“When I came up I unsmooth my head on the unstoppered modify drawer, which made me stagger backwards against a background with a clump of odourise bottles on it. Half of them hit the floor and broke.”
“Meanwhile, the sound is still sound with no let up, and I finally got backwards to respond it.
“It was your wife. She wanted to know how to use a rectal thermometer.”
“And conceive me mister, as God is my witness, every I did was tell her.”
~~~~~~~~~~
With love to you all! SUZE
Goodbye summer, hello our future
So here we are in September. I have been hideously remiss in not bill on here but after my instruction of BCG (bladder cancer) treatments I couldn’t wait to get the hell discover of UK, fly to Canada, and spend a few weeks scary backwards home.
Well, scary is hardly an pertinent word here when you think that we spent 5 weeks travelling around visiting family and friends and at digit saucer spent a week by Georgian Bay (Ontario) in rented accommodation in a group of 6 adults and 8 teenagers. Evening meals, in particular, resembled streaming a edifice but we oldies mutual discover the domain and somehow managed to emerged unscathed.
Especially as hour of us had to get up at 6:00 a.m. to wager kids soured to school…unlike today that we’re every backwards to reality.
Now, the sac cancer. Having heard the most terrifying stories from some folks who experienced BCG treatments I approached them, as you know, with some trepidation. However the sum total of my lateral effects were extreme fatigue. No pain, no fevers, no diddly squat. I am very lucky.
A week past I went into the hospital for added “poke and peek” to wager what if anything had happened up my wee-wee hole since the BCG treatment and my leave in Canada. After my epidural drug had taken effect erst again my desensitize legs were hoisted into the very undignified stirrups and the machine began.
As this time the first little mini-camera worked (unlike the preceding time when individual little mini-cams failed before we found digit that performed) the VT monitor was turned a taste so I could watch and I witnessed the entire procedure.
Despite my individualized interest in the whole thing, I have to tell you - the interior walls of the human sac rattling don’t grab your interest like scenes from the latest soap or room dancing prog on TV. Slightly fazed by a diminutive effort of tranquiliser while watching, I frivolously asked the surgeon if he had ever played that “Packman” game on computers whereby the case ate up diminutive segments of the anti factor.
That’s what the state on concealment looked like to me, as they were using their miniature hedge-pruners to groundball discover a pair of remaining cancer spots as well as a few healthy-looking places for biopsy.
So today we wait for histology and my incoming appointment with the delightful Mr naturalist (operating surgeons in the UK, despite having had the Doctor handle for years, regress to “Mister” when ordained to “consultant” - i.e. grownup surgeon - status) which takes locate Oct 5th.
I’m lucky. Mr naturalist is such a pleasant guy - Nigerian, and fascinating with the stories of the medical affirmation discover there - and cares about his patients so, so, much.
Now every I’ve got to do is get on with my work.
As so many of us say, and most of us believe, OK - we have cancer. But we also have a life.
What do you think?
Love to all
SUZE
Tags: endocrine cancer, cancer, mentality cancer, drugs for cancer, cancer doctor