Tag: cancer

Bobs Bowel 3 – The Consultant & More


Tuesday 28th January, and my first meeting with the consultant. It was quite intense and a bit of a good news, bad news scenario.

First up the bad news, the results of the biopsies taken during the colonoscopy  confirm that the tumour is cancerous. I guess I was expecting that and was already resigned to the fact that surgery was required. Confirming the cancer was just detail.

On to the good news. The results of the CTC show that the cancer seems to be contained within the colon and hasn’t spread elsewhere. Apparently, there are a couple of polyps but nothing to be concerned about at this time. Some time after the surgery, I will likely have a colonoscopy, and the polyps will be dealt with then.

I was told that I should get a surgery date within the next three weeks. The surgery itself will be of the keyhole variety. The consultant ran through some of the issues / risks. Obviously, all surgery comes with risks. It is invasive, and the body wasn’t designed for easy access. In my case, proximity to the spleen was of concern.

Given that my tumour is causing a partial blockage, surgery is the only option. It is what it is.

Prior to that, it seems they have a lot of fun activities planned for me, so I will be visiting the Queen Alexandra Hospital …. a lot.

I have already been booked into surgery school.  This two hour classroom session is on Monday, 3rd January, to be held at the Oasis Centre. The purpose of the class is to prepare the patient, me, for the surgery and after. To tell about the process, the time on the high dependency ward, and preparation for going home and what to expect in the time following the procedure.

Another treat will be a session with the stoma nurse. Although it isn’t planned, the surgeons won’t know until they go in and may decide that a stoma is necessary. This may be temporary to allow my bowel to heal or, worst case scenario, permanent if they can’t repair the bowel. Apparently, all bowel surgery patients are taken through this possibility and the ramifications.

Finally, there will be a consultation with the anaesthetist. If they can glean enough information from my notes, then it should be just a telephone consult. Otherwise, a further trip to the QA will be required.

Once I have had the operation, I can expect to be in the hospital for about a week or so. Escape will be dependent on my how fast my bowel starts to function. I was told that some patients have gone home after three days, but typically, it is a five day stay.

The things I’m prepared to do to get out of cooking and housework.

And then it’s on to recovery, i.e. back to normality. Again, everyone’s different, but they were talking three to six months.

I’m coming to realise that this is a big operation. Nobody has actually vocalised this fact, but I’m picking up on the odd words that were dropped by the consultant and one of the colo-rectal nurses.

I have no idea if there will be any after treatment, i.e., chemo or radio therapy. This was not mentioned, and I forgot to ask, but perhaps that is a discussion for after the operation, when they know what they are dealing with.

In the meantime, I have been having a lot of discussions with Gerry about preparing for my time in the hospital and immediately after. These are non medical in nature.

Gerrys mobility is OK around the house, but she can’t stand for long. So preparing meals for herself could be problematic. There are a number of companies that make and deliver ready meals so we are considering getting some to put in the freezer. Gerry should be able to manage those.

Of course, after I return home, my capabilities are a bit of an unknown quantity at this time. There are likely to be restrictions on lifting and carrying. Simple things like lifting a kettle to make a cuppa may not be allowed.

I won’t be allowed to drive for a while, and although Gerry still has her licence, she hasn’t driven for a couple of years. So we are going to have to rely on family to provide taxi services for any appointments etc..

Sadly, this bloody tumour is causing a lot of disruption, impacting others’ lives too.

At the back end of February we have tickets for two concerts. The first is for Uriah Heep, a band that I started following in the 70’s. This concert is part of a 50th Anniversary and farewell tour. Missing that will be a bit of a blow.

The other concert is for Brit Floyd, a Pink Floyd tribute band. We got tickets to this show as a Christmas present for Summer,  our great-granddaughter. She is always saying how she likes Pink Floyd, so we thought a tribute band was the nearest she would get to the real thing.

We are already trying to arrange for others to take the tickets

Two further events are possibly in jeopardy.  The Goodwood Members Meeting in April, which usually entails a whole day on my feet. And then there is an Andre Rieu concert at Wembley in May. We will just have to see how my recovery goes.

That’s it for now.

Bobs Bowel 2


Previous Posts On This Subject

The NHS Poo Sticks game, Colonoscopy, and Bobs Bowel.

I have become obsessed with bowel movements, or rather the lack of them.

After my CTC I restarted taking a laxative, Molaxole, but this was proving to be non productive. As well as the laxative I have also resumed eating normal foods, not the low residue diet, which is remeniscent of baby food.

The lack of bowel movements over the last few days, and the constant feeling that I just ate a full Christmas roast is troubling. The indications are that my tumour is severely restricting the flow in my digestive system.

And that is definitely not good news.

I have been consulting Dr Google, which is not always a good thing. But, in this case the concensus seems to be that, if my tubes are truly blocked, then continuing with the laxative can be counter productive.

Regardless of biopsy results I think it is imperative that the tumour is removed and tout de suite.

As I have been typing this post, and after several fruitless trips to the bathroom, I have finally had success. The fullness that I have been feeling is easing so I think I will carry on with the laxative for the time being. Based on my recent past experience, my bowel seems slow to react. So I have taken another dose of Molaxole and will drink plenty of fluids.

Tomorrow, I will contact the Colorectal Unit for some advice but regardless, I am seeing a consultant on Tuesday with whom there will be a full and frank discussion.

So, I am off now, to make a mug of Bovril.

Stay tuned….

Bobs Bowel


A few days ago, I posted about the NHS Poo Sticks game. There then followed a visit to the hospital for a Colonoscopy which led to my cancer diagnosis.

Apparently my tumour is positioned up at the top right corner in the diagram, where the transverse colon joins the descending colon.

Of course, that is not the end of the saga. We are only just getting started.

Shortly after the colonoscopy, at the meeting with the doctor along with the bad news I was given an appointment date for a meeting with the consultant. That is scheduled for 28th January.

After being discharged I headed home to find that the hospital had already been on the phone. I returned their call and was informed that they had an appoinment for me to attend the hospital again. This time for a CT colonography (CTC). Lucky me. I was scheduled in for Tuesday 21st at 08:30.

That was the good news. The bad news was that I had to go back on the low residue diet. OK, it was only for two days this time, starting on Sunday. On the Monday before the CTC, I was to start taking a liquid laxative. Two doses, one at 08:00 and the other at 18:00. No food after that time, just clear fluids until after the CTC.

The liquid laxative, Gastrografin, also contains a dye (contrast medium) that contains iodine and it helps to clearly show the colon on the scan.

Once again my imagination ran riot but reality was a lot simpler. I was expecting to spend the day on the loo, but after a brief eruption in the morning, I suffered nothing until the following morning. Even after the second dose.

Tuesday morning arrived soon enough and I took myself of to the hospital. No sooner had I arrived in the reception area than I was called through. Given a hospital gown to change into and told to take a seat in a waiting area.

I was then called through to have a cannula fitted. This was needed for the dye that they would inject during the scan. After a brief wait I was shown into the scanner room. I have had CT scans before so my anxiety levels were really low. And so it was up onto the scanning table where the unpleasantness started.

Firstly I was asked to lay on my side with my knees up towards my chin. Once in position a tube was inserted into my back passage. This was for the gas that they were going to use to inflate my colon.

As the gas flowed, so my discomfort increased. Initially there was the sensation of my abdomen bloating. This was soon accompanied by stomach cramps which grew in intensity. I was asked to lay on my back and I was threaded through the eye of the donut.

The discomfort was increasing.

They then injected the dye and we played thread the donut again. After a couple of passes I was asked to turn on my side.

Still the discomfort was building. So much so that I was muttering to myself. Something along the lines of “enough already”, “get me off this thing”, “please make it stop”. You get the picture.

After a couple more passes through the donut they came in to put me out of my misery. The gas pipe was extracted and I was led out of the scanning room, across the corridor and shown to a toilet.

It was there that the process of decompression began. It was also there that I got changed into my street clothes. I then went and sat in a waiting area but it wasn’t long before I headed back to the decompression chamber, and then back to the waiting area.

After a short wait I was invited into a small room where my cannula was removed, and then I was discharged.

Over the last few years I have undergone numerous procedures. But this was by far the worst. I have had CT scans before but the added gas takes them to a whole new level. Definitely an experience that I am not keen to repeat.

I am not Jumping Jack Flash and it definitely was not a Gas, Gas, Gas.

Now, I am eating a relatively normal diet but to ensure that my bowel doesn’t become completely blocked I have been prescribed a different laxative, Molaxole. This I have to drink twice a day. It doesn’t taste nasty but it isn’t pleasant. I have to add some orange squash to make it more palatable.

Yuukkk!

So, now I have to wait until Tuesday and the appointment with the consultant.

I’ll be in touch…..

Colonoscopy Day


After a week of a Low Residue Diet, a day of fasting, and a day supplemented by laxatives, the dreaded day had arrived. (See my previous Poo Sticks post)

My appointment at the hospital was scheduled for 10:00. By 10:45, I was sitting in a small office with a nurse. I gave my medical history. Then the nurse showed me to a room where I could change into my hospital gear.

It was there that I was provided with the standard hospital gown, open at the back. I was also introduced to my “dignity pants”. These are made out of some kind of paper, very loose and with a trapdoor at the rear, for easy access.

Over all this I put on my dressing gown and slippers. Obviously I was the epitome of sartorial elegance. And so, suitably attired, I was collected and led down several long corridors. Up several floors to the theatre suite.

Why are the reception/changing areas always so far away from the treatment rooms ?

Anyway, on arrival, I was fitted with a cannular and had my obs recorded.

After a short wait I was loaded onto a trolley in preparation for entering the theatre. There was a further short delay as they cleaned the room, after the previous patient had been evicted.

Showtime !

I was wheeled into a small room packed with people and equipment. Well, three nurses, me, and eventually the doctor. Very snug.

I was asked to roll on my side and a muscle relaxant, sedative and pain suppressant were administered. Being on my side allowed me to watch the whole procedure. I viewed it on the same screen that the doctor was using.

As the camera traveled along my colon, I was thinking this is like Indiana Jones riding a mining cart along a tunnel. Laid out before me were the pink walls of my colon. I was impressed with how well I had cleaned up, thanks to the Picolax. As we trundled along in my cart, me riding shotgun with the doctor, we rounded a bend only to be confronted by …… what was that ? A rock fall, a cave in …. what ?

I spoke out loud, “Oh that doesn’t look good!”. Nobody responded to me, which was perhaps quite telling.

At this point the doctor started taking photos, biopsies and leaving markers (tattoos). And then the mining cart started the return journey and the procedure was over.

There was very little discomfort in fact my imagination blew everything out of proportion. I found being able to see what the doctor was seeing very interesting. I have since heard from friends and family that have experienced a colonoscopy. They all have no knowledge / memory of the procedure as they were all knocked out. I was told that I would be sedated and my records show that I had fentanyl. But, I didn’t experience any softening of mental focus. I am guessing that I was only given a minimal dosage.

I was wheeled out to the recovery room where I was given a cup of coffee and some biscuits. That was the best coffee ever ! Being my first proper drink since around midnight, twelve hours before. Just before I went to bed.

After a repeated series of obs, I was allowed to dress. The nurses and I then headed down to the discharge waiting room. But after more that half an hour nobody came to see me. So, I went off to find someone. A very helpful young lady in scrubs dispatched a nurse to find out where my doctor had gotten to.

It transpires that he was up to his elbows in another patient. I was transferred to another waiting area, with comfy seats. Being the only one in there, I should have realised that this was the bad news room. The doctor arrived, with back up.

The doctor was supported by one of the Bowel Cancer Screening nurses and a nurse from the Colorectal unit.

The doctor then proceeded to tell me what they had found and the next steps.

Firstly, he is pretty sure I have Colon Cancer. Confirmation will come from the biopsies they too during the procedure. Apparently they took eight samples. I was watching but didn’t count.

The “rock fall” was in fact the cancer / tumour / growth and it prevented the doctor from completing the procedure. The camera could not get past the growth so not all of the colon was examined.

The doctor seemed pretty positive. Given the position of the growth, it should be operable. I might get away with keyhole surgery. And, most importantly to me, I might not have to have a bag. However he went to great pains to stress that none of that is guaranteed.

To determine what is going on further upstream, I am scheduled for a CT Scan. I already have an appointment to see a consultant the following Tuesday.

By then he will have the biopsy and scan results and should be better placed to formulate a battle plan.

So, onward and upwards. Stay tuned …..

Poo Sticks – Updated


No, not the children’s game immortalised in the Winnie The Pooh stories.

I am referring to the game played by adults of a certain age. The NHS initiates this game. As part of their Bowel Screening Programme they send a package through the post requesting a sample of your poo. You then return it to them and they analyse it.

I’ve played this game with them for several years. Presumably, I was winning because I never heard back from them. No news is good news, right!

That continued until late last year when I was invited to a telephone consultation.

They had discovered some traces of “non visible blood.” The net of that hour long conversation was their decision to offer me a colonoscopy. I say offer because it was left open for me to decline the procedure.

What sort of cretin would I have to be to decline ?

You are 73 years old. Your body is wearing out. When the professionals are concerned enough to contact you, it’s only polite to accept.

And so an appointment was made for a colonoscopy and a package duly arrived in the post. Said package contained several pages of information about the procedure. It also included a blow by blow script for the preceding seven days and three sachets of Picolax.

It seems, understandably, that before a colonoscopy the medics like you to clear your tubes. So, for seven days I had to follow a “low residue/low fibre diet”. That is to say I had to cut out all foods containing fibres which are hard to digest. This helps reduce the amount of undigested food passing into my large bowel.

Adhering to this diet presents extra challenges when preparing meals. Those bad boy fibres are really sneaky, popping up when you least expect them. Also many of them are contained in favourite five a day fruits and vegetables.

For example you can eat potatoes but not the skins. You can eat pretty much any root vegetable, like carrot, swede, and turnip. Just make sure they are peeled and well cooked. They should be soft enough to mash. No peas, beans, citrus fruit or berries etc. and no seeds or grains. Even onions are a no-no. The list is endless.

Over the last few days I have become a nervous food prepper/eater. I was preparing some bell peppers for dinner only to find that they are not allowed. Similarly, on Sunday I was holding a glass of red wine when I decided to consult Dr. Google. Nope, red wine is not allowed, in fact turns out I should be avoiding alcohol in general.

Yes, you can make tasty meals acceptable for a low residue diet. However, they lack texture. They are also missing key ingredients to take the flavour to the max.

And so, here I am, having completed the low residue diet. Looking forward to my colonoscopy tomorrow. To be honest I am actually looking forward to eating real food tomorrow night. Just one more hurdle to cross, well two actually.

Hurdle number one is that today, 24 hours before my procedure, I am not allowed to eat anything. I can only consume clear liquids. These include water, squash, coke, lemonade, black tea/coffee, clear soup, marmite/bovril/oxo mixed into weak drinks with hot water. By this time tomorrow I will so hungry you may find me gnawing on a table leg

Hurdle number two, you may remember that earlier I mentioned Picolax. Picolax is a laxative and I have to consume three doses. The first was at 08:30 this morning. The next dose is scheduled for 12:30 and the last to be taken at 18:30.

Having read the instructions the only thing at the forefront of my mind is “Make sure you are close to a toilet”

Oh well, I suppose it’s all for the best.

Stay tuned.

Today, January 15th, was colonoscopy day.

Another Sad Day


Just a short while ago, I posted about attending my ex son-in-laws funeral.

And just this week, we attended another. This time, for a friend and colleague of my wife’s, from her days working at the Kenwood site in Havant.

Two funerals in quick succession, a dark start to 2024, had me thinking that, given my age, I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, I will be 72 this year, God willing.

But that’s not right. Yes, as we get older, we start to say goodbye to others in our age group however, neither Dave nor Ali are in my age group.   Dave was 56 while Ali was not yet 55. Too young by any measure, showing that cancer does not respect  age.

RIP Ali, my condolences to Martin and Cameron.

Alison “Ali” Davis 12th August 1969 – 20th January 2024

My Prostate and Me – Part 11


“See you all in six months !!!”

So said I, five years ago. A lot has happened in those five years although not a lot in the land of the prostate. Or perhaps I should say, not a lot, to my knowledge.

In 2015 we retired, and since then, we rebuilt our conservatory, holidayed in France – 2months and Italy – 8  days. We have spent 3 stints in Australia. Those 3 Ozzie visits totalled 12 months in all with the last trip stretching into 7 months, in part due to the pandemic.

And so to my prostate …

After our return from the latest Ozzie adventure, I was scheduled for a Urology Consult (telephone) 28th July. As is the norm, these are preceded by the taking of blood samples. As my GP had requested a blood sample to check my blood sugar levels, it seemed appropriate to combine them. So on Wednesday 22nd July, at eight in the morning, I presented myself at my local surgery and provided the necessary samples. I then sat back to await the consult scheduled for the following Tuesday. The next day, Thursday 23rd, I received a call from the GP surgery, could I come in and give another sample.

Apparently they wanted to rule out any potential issues with the analysis of the previous sample. As you can imagine my brain went into hyperdrive, what had the blood sample shown. I duly presented myself at the surgery and gave up some more of my blood. Although the person on the call didn’t know why I needed to give another sample, the nurse taking my blood was a little more forthcoming.

It appears the first sample showed my PSA level was up.  This second sample was to determine if there had been a balls up in the lab or if something more sinister was happening.

Friday I received  call from the surgery asking if I woud be prepared to have a telephone consult, with my GP Dr Mannings,  on Tuesday evening. I pointed out that I also had a telephone consult with the Urologist on Tuesday morning. That’s great quipped the receptionist, you’ll be able to tell the doctor what the results are and what your urologists plans are.

With all this interest in my blood and doctors left, right and centre wanting to speak to me my curiosity was definitely peaked.

So Tuesday 28th duly arrives and I have my telephone consult with the Urologist, Mr Hodgson. Yes, he confirmed, my PSA has risen.

Apparently last June my PSA was 3.6 but these latest blood tests show my PSA at 7.9 and 8.9. A sure indicator that something is going on down in the nether regions although still lower than the 13.3 which was where I was at before having the Brachytherapy

Because of this my consultant wants me to have a series of scans. CT, MRI and full body bone scan. The call is ended with the promise that I will be contacted with appointment details.

Sure enough, later in the day I receive a call from the Scanning Dept., would I be available on the morning of Saturday 1st August, for a CT scan ? Yes of course, and so I am duly booked in for 09:00.

Later the same day I have my consult with my GP. He already knew about the consultants plans but is like a child being handed a bag of sweets, so excited, when I tell him that already have the first of my scans booked.

The NHS is actually working very swiftly and efficiently. Obviously I have Covid-19 to thank for this, the hospitals are operating in a very stripped back mode. All to my advantage.

Over the next few days I receive calls and set up the remaining appointments. Monday 3rd August @ 19:00 for the MRI and Tuesday 11th August for Full Body Bone Scan. The bone scan is in two parts. I have to turn to at 11:15 for a radioactive injection. Go away for a while, then return at 14:30 for the actual scan. Apparently, after the injection, due to its radioactive nature, I have to steer clear of any pregnant women and young children Same advice I was given after I had my Brachytherapy.

I duly attended the three scans. One thing I noted is that I am able to lay completely still during these scanning sessions. They each have taken anything between twenty minutes and forty five minute. At home I find it just about impossible to keep my legs still, whether I am sitting watching TV or laid in bed. Maybe I need to get a huge doughnut installed at home.

For each of the scans I also had an injection. The one administered during the CT, I was warned, would trigger a warm sensation in my nether regions. Something akin to wetting oneself. Not something you want to consider when typically any sensation in the bladder region typically turns into a pee panic. As it happens, the sensation I felt was around the neck and up around my ear. Something like I used to feel when my Mum had caught me out in a lie. For the MRI I was given an injection of Buscopan. When I mentioned that my wife takes Buscopan for her IBS te doctor said it’s the same stuff but won’t hang around as long but that it might affect my eye sight i.e. blur my vision. He assured me it would have cleared my system before I got back to my car for the drive home. As for the bone scan and the radioactive injection I was informed that, other than having to stay away from pregnant ladies and young children, there were no side effects, that I wouldn’t be aware of it in my bod.

All that remained was for me to await the results. I assumed that I would receive a phone call from my consultant, Mr Hodgson.

I did receive a phone call, but not from Mr Hodgson. It was from a yong lady, I assume from the Urology Department reception.

She informed me that she was calling to book me in for a Pre-op Assessment !!!

My heart dropped, my stomach did a flip. “Pre-op ?” I said, “pre-op for what ?”  “Well, you came into Urology yesterday” says the young lady. “Nope” says I, “I didn’t, I haven’t had any contact with Urology since the 28th July”. “Oh !” she says “And you haven’t seen the letter ?” Again “Nope” says I, “In fact I would have expected a phone call from Mr Hodgson, not a bloody letter”. She is really apologetic and puts me on hold briefly. When she comes back on line she asks me if I want to wait for the letter, or she could read it out to me. I take the latter option. So, she reads the letter to me. My heart and stomach resume a more calm state.

None of the three scans suggest any spread of  the disease.

Needless to say, this news was not what I was expecting. Nevertheless, it was encouraging. The letter, from Mr Hodgson, set out the next steps to be taken to determine if in fact my cancer has recurred.

Those steps are

  • A PET CT
  • Template Biopsy (to be carried ot under GA and the reason for the Pre-Op)

The PET CT has been scheduled for Tuesday 25th August @ 15:00 and I have had the Pre-Op. This was in two parts. Part 1 was on Tuesday 18th, a telephone assessment which was then followed up with a hospital visit on Thursday 20th, where they carried out an ECG, swabs for MRSA and took a urine sample.

So there we are, all up to speed. I’ll post my next episode after the PET CT and when I know the date for the biopsy.

Conundrum


I am currently languishing in the Perth suburbs, Western Australia.

Last October, my son-in-law Steve was diagnosed with a brain tumour (glioblastoma). Very quickly, following the diagnosis, he was whisked into hospital for brain surgery. At the time we didn’t know how much after care he would need but we offered to help out and so my wife and I travelled out to Oz to provide support.

After care wasn’t the issue. Steve really recovered well after the surgery with no real pain and none of the residual weakness that would have been present following an abdominal or chest operation.

No, the follow up treatment and schedule was the real issue.

The radiotherapy was daily, Monday to Friday, for six weeks. Whilst the chemotherapy was tablet form, taken daily Monday to Sunday during the same six weeks. Following the surgery Steve was forbidden to drive for the next six to twelve months. So, to enable my daughter to carry on working, my role was to act as chauffer. Daily trips to Fiona Stanley Hospital, Perth interspersed with trips to Sir Charles Gairdner Hospital, also in Perth. As well as various trips for blood tests and scans.

As the chemo built up in his system, the expected nausea and fatigue and exhaustion also built up. Alongside all this came the loss of appetite and corruption of taste buds.

And here is the conundrum.

What do you feed someone, who has all this going on ?

Even after the initial course of chemo and radio therapies has been completed, the dietary disruption continues.

After all, it is hard enough, under normal circumstances, to cater for the normal familial likes and dislikes of

  1. a granddaughter who doesn’t eat meat that isn’t chicken or ham (unless its a burger or a rissole, then almost anything goes) and has a limited set of veggie likes (eats broccoli and cauliflower but not green beans or pumpkin). By the way she loves fish but won’t eat salmon.
  2. a wife who loves fish especially salmon, has a short list of veggies (eats cauliflower but not broccoli and no sprouts or carrots) and doesn’t eat “spicy” food or creamy food i.e. white sauces are something of a minefield. Still waiting for the clear definition of what constitutes spicy.
  3. a daughter who also doesn’t like “spicy” food, likes fish that isn’t salmon or trout. Not sure about tuna ??? Eats most veggies (definitely no sprouts) and all non chicken meats have to be cooked to near charcoal point i.e. no pink

Before the tumour and chemo, Steve used to pretty much eat everything. Now he finds the flavour of most foods to be too strong, overpowering.

So, bland is the order of the day. Steamed fish or chicken predominates. Or the same but simply pan fried or baked. No sauces and definitely no herbs or spices. Some meals comprise just two tenderloin chicken pieces, total weight around 60g, steamed and maybe accompanied by a couple of carrot batons and/or a small broccoli floret.

So, how do I feed Steve without overpowering his hypersensitive taste-buds ? How do I coax him to eat a bit more as his energy levels are already depleted due to the chemo ? The lack of food does nothing to boost those already depleted levels. How do I introduce a bit of variety to his diet ?

Although he completed the initial concurrent chemo / radio therapies, my son-in-law has now started a new regime. He takes a five day course of tablet form chemotherapy, one week in four.

So, the disruption to taste, appetite, stamina and energy levels will be continuing for the next six months at least, maybe even for twelve.

Any suggestions ?

Cheshire Wandering (3) Quarry Bank


After the girls had, two days ago, overdosed on retail therapy, and I had walked my pins to stumps exploring the River Weaver, it was time to absorb some more Cheshire history. And so off we set, into previously uncharted territory. Our destination, Quarry Bank Mill.

Quarry Bank Mill (Styal Mill)

Quarry Bank Mill (also known as Styal Mill) in Styal, Cheshire, is apparently, one of the best preserved textile mills of the Industrial Revolution. Built in 1784, it is now a museum of the cotton industry. The mill was established by Samuel Greg and was notable for the innovative approach to labour relations. This was largely as a result of the work of Greg’s wife, Hannah Lightbody.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quarry_Bank_Mill

On entry to the mill you are guided through the wool/cotton making process, entering on the ground floor. The various informational boards lead you, initially, up to the top floor. This is probably a good thing as by the end of the tour, on weary legs, you exit at ground level, not far from the cafe. Thankfully there is a lift to get you to the top.

Caterpillar Barrow
Lancashire Overpick Loom – Quarry Bank
Weaving Machine – Quarry Bank
Dentists Chair

As one explores there are plenty of information boards which enable you to understand the environmental and the social changes that were happening at the time. Lots of examples of the typical “contracts of employment” and apprentice indentures. The mill employed men, women and children. Men, then as now, were typically paid more than women doing the same jobs. Nothing changes.

Perhaps, one of the most significant events of the time was Peterloo …..

The Peterloo Massacre took place at St Peter’s Field, Manchester, England, on 16 August 1819, when cavalry charged into a crowd of 60,000–80,000 who had gathered to demand the reform of parliamentary representation.

The end of the Napoleonic Wars in 1815 had resulted in periods of famine and chronic unemployment, exacerbated by the introduction of the first of the Corn Laws. By the beginning of 1819, the pressure generated by poor economic conditions, coupled with the relative lack of suffrage in Northern England, had enhanced the appeal of political radicalism. In response, the Manchester Patriotic Union, a group agitating for parliamentary reform, organised a demonstration to be addressed by the well-known radical orator Henry Hunt.

Shortly after the meeting began, local magistrates called on the Manchester and Salford Yeomanry to arrest Hunt and several others on the hustings with him. The Yeomanry charged into the crowd, knocking down a woman and killing a child, and finally apprehending Hunt. The 15th Hussars were then summoned by the magistrate, Mr Hulton, to disperse the crowd. They charged with sabres drawn, and in the ensuing confusion, 18 people were killed and 400–700 were injured. The massacre was given the name Peterloo in an ironic comparison to the Battle of Waterloo, which had taken place four years earlier.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peterloo_Massacre

Continue reading “Cheshire Wandering (3) Quarry Bank”

My Prostate and Me – Part 8


My Prostate Operation Was Cancelled – After 3 + hours of waiting.

Well, it’s taken me a while to get my thoughts together after what turned out to be a really stressful morning. Truth be told, I had probably been stressing for quite a few days but had not realised……
As I said in my previous post, we had been requested to arrive thirty minutes earlier than the 07:00 originally planned. This was, supposedly, so that I could have my pre-operation meet with the surgeon and anaesthetist. So my wife and I dutifully presented ourselves at 06:30 in Theatre Admissions and were, almost immediately, shown through to a consultation room.
A nurse arrived, wrote out a luggage tag for my small holdall, and attached a fancier version to my wrist. So far all was moving along quite nicely. Next she started taking / checking my details and very soon I began to wonder what the point of the pre-operation assessment was since all the questions were repeats of Wednesday afternoons interrogation. My doubts further increased when she informed me that she didn’t have my blood details nor my ECG results both of which were part of the Wednesday session.

Already somewhat stressed, in anticipation of the forthcoming procedure, I was beginning to get a little terse. Not just that, but I was also beginning to wonder if they knew what I was in for. A thought that was reinforced a few minutes later when I was invited to get changed. Some of you will remember from my previous visit, for the template biopsy, that I had been given a gown which was way too small and couldn’t be secured. In an attempt to prevent the same indignity I asked for a larger gown. Yet again I was offered a small size. It was obvious that it wouldn’t even fit across my shoulders, let alone do up at the back. Almost grudgingly I was offered a “bariatric” gown. I muttered “whatever that is ” under my breath. Obviously not under enough, as I was informed “oh they are huge !!! “.
As she handed me my bell tent I was asked “what is it you are having done? ” I replied “my Prostate!! “. “Then you should take everything off!!” she informed me.

With that I was left to change. The gown had enough room in it to hold a small disco but at least I could fasten it up. And, best of all, my new dressing gown was of sufficient length to reach the lovely sage green pressure stockings I was sporting. This new vision of sartorial loveliness was finished off by my new suede moccasin style slippers. Now, properly attired, I returned to sit with my wife in the consultation room.

There then ensued a, seemingly, long wait. In truth it was probably only minutes but eventually the anaesthetist arrived and after he had confirmed my details, and repeated many of the questions from Wednesday afternoon, and from earlier this very morning, he ran through what the order of play would be.

For the first time the duration of the operation was mentioned. I had been under the impression that this was to be a two hour procedure. Nope, this was to be four to five hours in duration. Suddenly the first penny, of a whole bag full, dropped and the true magnitude of this operation began to sink in. Five hours!!! He also mentioned that it was possible that the robotic basis of the operation could switch to full open surgery should any problems arise. This had always lurked at the back of my mind and, to be honest, that is where I kept it filed. That is, until the session with the surgeon.

Fast forward a few minutes….

Mr. Wilkinson talked us through the operation and thoroughly explained risks. How little I knew. Over the last couple of years I have reviewed the implications of having this operation and thought that I was pretty well versed. Trouble is, I had been focusing on the post operative time frame. I had not paid too much attention to the detail of the surgery itself.

He, Mr Wilkinson, listed the various risks involved with a radical prostatectomy, starting with how difficult it was going to be to find the little sucker. Especially given the route taken during keyhole surgery, in through the abdomen then turn due south and head for the pelvic zone.

Add to that the fact that the robot has fixed length (but short) arms. I know some folks who are like that when it comes to buying their round in the pub. Next up was the proximity of the prostate to my bladder which introduces a risk of damage over and above the urinary incontinence which is to be expected. Moving swiftly on, next on the list is the proximity to the bowel.

New news here was that the prostate could be stuck to the bowel and that this could have been caused by, if not caused by then exacerbated by, the biopsies I had as part of the original diagnosis and active surveillance regime. At no time was it ever explained to me that the biopsies, TRUS or Template, could have negative impact on future surgery. Apparently during the prostate operation they mighty have to peel the bowel away from the prostate. The biopsies could contribute to any adhesion between the bowel wall and my prostate and the act of separation could cause damage that would have to be repaired. If such damage occurred it would require a colostomy to allow the repair to heal. Obviously, once the repair was healed there would have to be another operation to undo the colostomy. My four to six weeks recovery period suddenly looked to be extending with the possibility of the further surgery and recovery period.

Continuing on with the inherent risks of this surgery, let’s not forget that during the procedure I would be tilted head down by approximately 30 degrees. This would cause my innards to slop towards my head, thereby putting pressure on my heart and lungs. Apparently this is a negative thing.

The coup de grace was  the underlying small print of robotic surgery, if they ran into any difficulties, i.e. the Da Vinci machines short arms couldn’t reach, they would revert to the good old fashioned procedure and open me up from stem to stern.

Bottom line for me was that, due to my 18.5 stone (259lb) weight, the risk factors were double the norm.

This operation, and the potential ramifications, was taking on mammoth proportions. And now, the anxiety I was already feeling, was ratcheting up to whole new levels. I really was beginning to feel that I was making a big mistake. But, despite my misgivings I still signed the consent forms.

You may well ask “Why?” Why proceed when I was obviously having doubts.

I can offer no sensible answer. Guilt, Fear, Not wanting to let anyone / everyone / myself down.

After Mr Wilkinson left, my wife said “I fully expected you to refuse to sign that “.

Her statement just added to my anxiety and it was at this point that the anaesthetist returned to ask if I would agree to an epidural. As there was the possibility of my robotic surgery converting to full open surgery he thought it might be a good idea to give me an epidural to help with the pain management.

It was then that I experienced what I can only describe as a “crisis “. It wasn’t that I was crying, there was no wailing and gnashing of teeth, just that my mind was in total turmoil. I was in a flat spin. I really don’t know if I was coherent but I do think I was borderline having a panic attack. I couldn’t answer him. I tried to explain that I was seriously thinking that I shouldn’t go ahead with the surgery. He sat there patiently until I regained my self control and eventually I informed him that he should go ahead with the epidural.

So I was still going ahead. I think that I probably convinced myself that it was normal to have doubts and that I was probably magnifying the issues out of all proportion.

At around 09:00, my wife, took herself off to work and I went to sit with the other surgical victims where I waited for nearly an hour. During this time I was brought a cup of tablets, my antibiotics, anti vomiting, anti anti everything etc etc. And a small cup of water to wash them all down. This was the only drink I had since 05:30. The nurse that delivered them said something that I didn’t quite catch but when I asked she apologised for the long wait and informed me that there was meeting underway to discuss if my operation was to proceed as there was an issue regarding availability of a bed for me after my operation.

Around 10:00 Mr Wilkinson arrived and took me off to a consultation room. He explained that my operation had been delayed due to the beds issue. That he and the other consultant, Mr Solomon, had decided at around 09:30 that the operation was a no go. At around 10:00 the management had given permission for the operation to proceed but by then this was considered to be way too late. The operating list for Friday was morning only, such a late start would mean changing members of the surgical team mid operation and a probable finish time around 17:00. Adding to the risks previously outlined and putting the surgical team under the clock, more so than they would normally be. All in all, not good for the patient, Me! And not good for them.

To say that I was relieved would be an understatement. I had a long chat with Mr Wilkinson about my earlier “crisis” and whether surgery was the right option for me. The net of this was that the reschedule of my operation would be deferred until after Christmas.

To be quite honest,my wife and I are taking this time to rethink if this is the right way to go. Right now it doesn’t seem that surgery is for me.

I think, fate was on my side, that this operation was never meant to be.