A councillor has said more needs to be done by police to tackle speeding and anti-social driving behaviour across Fareham.
It’s not just Fareham that needs the additional focus. Here, in Waterlooville, we are also plagued by antisocial driving and speeding.
Councillor Pal Hayre is right to be asking for more measures to be put in place, but they need to be county-wide. Thats just me being parochial, this is a countrywide problem.
It’s all very well expecting the police to do more but they need the resources. They need more feet on the ground, more wheels in the street.
Finally, the big day has arrived. Today is the day I am to have my tumour removed.
I’m due at the hospital at 06:30. I have been told that I am the only patient on the list, so I am hoping that means first into theatre. No hanging around.
So my next post will be after my procedure when I am compos mentis again.
It’s funny how it seems to have taken a while to get to this point, but in reality, it has been just over three months, from diagnosis to surgery.
If all goes to plan, I’ll be in theatre for about three hours. Then, after time in recovery, I should be on the ward in time for tea. Although I doubt I’ll be in any fit state to eat and who knows what diet I’m going to be on.
Not so much a day out, more an afternoons tour of the hospital as today I have three appointments.
First up is an ECG. Making sure that my ticker is still ticking. No specific time for this, I just had to turn up and present myself at reception. I arrived at about 11:45 and was seen just after 12:00, which gave me time to find the venue for the next appointment.
This session, at 13:00, is with the Stoma Nurse. Although a stoma isn’t planned, this appointment is to talk me through the what ifs. Also to mark where the stoma could/should be if the surgeons deem one is necessary. Although the colonoscopy and subsequent CT Colonography show the tumour hasn’t spread my internal physiology could present other problems. The surgeons won’t know until they get inside and start rooting around.
So the stoma nurse explained all the why’s and wherefores of how a stoma is formed. She then had me lay on an examination couch while she felt my abdominal muscles and ultimately marked the primary site for a stoma on my right hand side but also marked a secondary site on the left side. Viewed from the front I now have a face on my belly with my navel as the nose. I was toying with the idea of drawing on some ears but various folks have deemed that a bad idea.
Having had the spots drawn on I was then shown how a colostomy bag should be affixed to my belly. She demonstrated how to fix the bag on, how to seal it and also how to empty it. And then it was my turn. To prove that I had been listening I had to apply a bag over one of the spots on my belly. Having passed that test I was told to keep the bag on for the rest of the day. “To see if I had a reaction to the adhesive”. To be honest I actuall forgot I had it on, until I went to bed, by which time I was to tired to mess with it. So I slept with it still on. The following day I found out how good that adhesive was. It was not an easy job getting it off.
The final part of my stoma education took the form of a kind of homework. I was given a number of bags to practice with. A couple of them had some kind of tablet in them to which I was supposed to add water. The tablets, when mixed with water, form a sludge of the same consistency as wallpaper paste. This was intended for me to practice emptying a bag. Needless to say, I failed in this task. And it is too late now.
After an hour or so in stoma class I was sent up to E Level to meet with a doctor for my formal preop interview. She went through many of the same questions that had been asked at each of my previous appointments. In this day and age, with the technology available, you would think that all staff in the hospital would have access to all of this information. Still, all the questions and drawing some more blood, and taking my blood pressure, took another hour.
I was eventually released to go home at just on 17:00.
An interesting point is that none of the folks that we visited knew when my operation was to take place !!! This, despite the fact that I had been informed the previous week.
So, my procedure is due to take place 31st March, 2025
A couple of years ago I was diagnosed with NAFLD, or Non Alcoholic Fatty Liver Disease, to give its full name. Or, to put it another way, Cirrhosis of the liver.
Over the last couple of years, I have been prodded and poked as part of the monitoring process. As yet, I am not on any medication, but I do get regular lectures about my diet and my lack of exercise.
My Hepatology consultant has wanted to carry out biopsies to prove her diagnosis, but I have resisted. I really don’t fancy the idea of someone pushing a needle into my side.So far she has had to make do with me having regular Fibroscans, blood tests and the occasional gastroscopy.
And so it was, last Tuesday, after two years had elapsed, it was decided that it was time for me to undergo another gastroscopy.
I vaguely recalled that the previous procedure wasn’t actually as unpleasant as everyone had told me. So, when I presented myself at reception in the Queen Alexandra Hospital Endoscopy Department, I was fairly relaxed.
On arrival, I was asked to complete a two page questionnaire regarding my medical history. Given the number of times that I have provided this information, over the last few weeks, I question the need.
After all, my height and weight are still unchanged, I still wear glasses, and no, I still don’t have any metalwork inside my body. The drugs I take on a daily basis are also unchanged. You would think, in this technological age, that they could print out my record and get me to confirm that nothing had changed. It would save bit of time.
Anyhow, questionnaire duly completed, it was time for me to head round to where the procedure was due to be carried out. I followed the nurse, like a dutiful hound called to heel. But first, we made a detour into a small office space where the nurse talked me through the questionnaire and I pretty much had to answer all the questions….. Again!!! We could have done the form filling and verbal confirmation all at one go. The only difference was that the nurse decided that I needed to provide a blood sample for my blood sugar,
Oh and I had to sign a consent form and in return I was given a standard hospital bracelet.
And then we walked round to the theatre. Where, once again, I was interrogated. Name, rank, serial number.
Then it was down to business. Sit on the table. Lay back. Open your mouth and hold your breath while we spray this stuff, Xylocaine, to the back of your throat. I had been warned that the spray tasted of rotten bananas. Perhaps not quite that bad, but more like overripe bananas. The spray is required to reduce/stop the natural gag reflex when the endoscope is inserted.
As requested, I rolled over on to my left side. And then the doctor was there with endoscope in hand.
He suggested that I might want to close my eyes as he began his hunt for varices.
But I didn’t want to miss the tv show. Unlike two years ago, I had a screen to look at. Full HD, I reckon. So I watched as the camera began its journey down my throat. The doctor was giving a full running commentary as the camera travelled down. It’s a bit like a train journey where the name of the next destination is announced.
Soon we were in my stomach which, much to my surprise, was empty apart from some fluids. In my head I envisaged the doctor, wearing a miners head lamp and wellies, sploshing around in my gastric juices. Strangely, I could feel the endoscope moving moving under my hand, which was laying on my belly, as the doctor had a good look around. So the gastric train reached the terminus and then began the return journey. Like any good tourist, the doctor paused the extraction to take a couple of photos.
And then we were done. Endoscope extracted and the doctor was saying that all was clear. In medispeak “No endoscopic signs of portal hypertension”, no varices.
After a few minutes I was taken to a discharge waiting room while the doctor was writing up his report. A nurse appeared and presented me with an “After gastroscopy care leaflet” Nothing to eat or drink for an hour. This is to allow the effects of the throat anaesthetic to wear off. Too soon and I could choke. After an hour, just small sips of water and if OK gently increase intake back to normal.
I was also given a copy of the doctors report and informed that I would be called in for a repeat performance in three years. And so I was formally discharged and allowed to go home.
Obviously I am very pleased that nothing sinister was seen and perhaps slightly less pleased at the thought of doing this again. But I am glad that they are continuing to monitor for the adverse symptoms of NAFLD.
L to R … Cousin Maureen, her mum Kathy, and my mum Jean
This is just a nostalgic photo from a family gathering at my parents’ home in Hastings, many years ago.
So, Maureen is the eldest of Kathy’s daughters. And, Kathy was my mums eldest sister.
Mum and Kathy were two of six siblings!
I’m not sure of the occasion or why they were sitting with ‘wellies to the fore’ but I do know that getting any of them to sit quietly for a photo would have been a challenge as they all, like me, could talk the hind leg off a donkey.
Whilst I don’t yet have a date for my surgery, the NHS is keeping me on my toes. I recently had to make a trip to the hospital to hand over some more of my blood.
I knew they would want to check to see if the iron infusion had done the trick. So I already had that appointment in my calendar.
However, a telephone call out of the blue informed me that they wanted more blood. Apparently they needed to check my liver function and also to ensure that my blood is clotting correctly.
Over the last few weeks I have had so many needles inserted I beginning to think I’m in an episode of Hancocks Half Hour, namely the Blood Donor.
WrAnTz 