Tag: surgery

Bobs Bowel 12 – Home Again


After ten days in hospital, I was home, at last. And what a difference it makes.

To start with, home is much quieter. As I said in one of my previous posts, I didn’t realise just how noisy hospitals are, I think the staff become quite blasé  about their speech levels, they also don’t seem to worry about banging cupboard doors and trays around. And then there are the various bleeping machines measuring life signs, pumping fluids and inflating air beds.

On the subject of machines pumping fluids i.e. saline drips etc.  The nursing staff seem to be immune to the sounds of the various alarms emitted by those machines. For example, I was hooked up to a saline drip and my pump started beeping. Nobody came but, luckily, I was able to see the small display screen which was indicating air bubbles in the line. I’ve seen enough crime dramas to know that air injected into your veins doesn’t end well. So I had to press my help button and a nurse duly arrived to redo the connections.

Anyway, being home means I don’t have to contend with the noise anymore. Another positive for being home is being in your own bed. My first night home I got seven hours sleep. Amazing, considering I don’t think I had a decent night’s sleep all the time I was in the hospital.

Sad to say I wasn’t able to match that in the days that followed, typically only getting three to four hours each night according to my smart watch. Having consulted “Dr Google” it seems that lack of sleep is not unusual after significant surgery. Thankfully, my sleep patterns have, slowly, returned to normal.

Another big difference between hospital and home is the attitude of the staff versus friends and family. In hospital the staff, whilst caring for you, encourage you to get up and about. The want you to walk the corridors, go and have a shower, and so forth. Movement helps with the healing process and also helps get the digestive processes going. Apparently it also helps dissipate the gasses in the abdomen. These are the gasses used to inflate the abdomen during the laparscopic surgery. Once home I found that, family in particular, were very protective of me. Every time I moved, someone was asking am I all right, do I need something, when all I am doing is adjusting my seating position as my bum has gone numb.

I did find that, as predicted, I was quite tired and dozed during the day. But that wore off over a few days and I was soon able to help with meal preparation, despite my wife intercepting me at every opportunity.

Of course I had to be careful about what I attempted to lift, push or pull. The standard “boiling a kettle” to make a cup of tea for two was a definite no-no. However, I am beginning to question the advice I was given. I think the advice about lifting and bending etc. is somewhat generic and based on old surgical practices. That is to say, based on abdominal surgery, which involves being cut from stem to stern with massive intrusion to the  muscles. My surgery was robotic laparascopic, so I only had a few holes where the rods were inserted, so minimal intrusion to the abdominal muscles. Yes, there is a letter box cut below my belly button, where they extracted the tumour and colon after it was cut away. However, I felt no muscular tensions down there. Rather, all muscular sensation tended to be in the upper abdominal area.

The point I am  making is that I did not feel any kinds of pain, soreness, or any other sensations around the wound site’s while I was moving around. Obviously, I didn’t want to do anything extreme but was I being too cautious!

I was also told that I shouldn’t drive  for six weeks. Or, at least, until I was able to perform an emergency stop without any pain. Also I had to be able to make rapid turns of the steering wheel. What wasn’t clear was who decides that I am fit, and how do “they” decide?

With driving, there is always the question of insurance. I had read that you are supposed to inform your insurance company that you have had major abdominal surgery. However, my insurance company does not have that requirement, but recommend getting your doctor to write a letter stating that you are fit to drive.

Getting to see a doctor might be a bit of a challenge here in the UK at the moment. I am told I will have a meeting in surgical outpatients in five  to six weeks.  That would tally quite nicely, if it happens.

I did phone the colorectal team and was informed that the decision, of when to drive, was down to me. I was also advised to practice braking in my car whilst stationary on the drive. If I experienced any pain, that would be a good indicator that it was too soon.

Another positive aspect to being home was having proper meals, with more solid foods on the menu. During my time in hospital I transitioned from clear fluids, free fluids, nil by mouth, clear fluids, free fluids and finally on to low fibre meals. On discharge I was expecting to be given some dietary advice, but that didn’t happen. So left to my own devices I have pretty much reverted to my previous foods. I have had jacket potatoes and ate the crispy skins, had roast chicken pieces and ate the skins. Also my daughter cooked us a chicken curry, medium heat. Oh what a joy as these were all things I had to avoid, from the day my tumour was diagnosed, up to the day of the surgery.

A few days after discharge I received a call from the colorectal team. The purpose of which was to inform me of the histology findings.

Firstly, the tumour removed was confirmed to be a carcinoma “something or other”. She did say, but I promptly forgot the name. Anyway, they took the tumour with good margins which were found to be clear of cancerous cells. So good news.

Secondly, they took out sixty five lymph nodes, of which two were found to have cancerous cells. Again, good news, but followed up with a precautionary offer of a consult with an oncologist.  Heavy emphasis on the “precautionary” statement.

So it is likely I will have some chemo. What form that will take I have yet to discover.

In the future, after five to six weeks I should have a Surgical Outpatients appointment.  Six months down the road I should have a virtual (telephone) consult to see how I am fairing. At the twelve month point I will probably be invited in for a colonoscopy. It is also anticipated that I will have an annual CT scan for the next five years.

So watch this space, for future developments.

Bobs Bowel 11


So here we all are, on the other side. I survived the procedure. I guess that I should apologise for leaving you all hanging. Since leaving hospital I have had a few things going on with friends and family. And, keeping a blog going does require a degree of concentration and effort. Of which I have had none.

My procedure, I am very pleased to say went well, took place on Monday 31st March. Originally estimated to take 4 – 4.5 hours, actually  took six hours. On regaining conciousness, in the recovery room,  I was given two pieces of news.

Firstly, that they, the surgical team, had taken more than was originally planned. Originally, I was supposed to be having a “left hemicolectomy” but in the end I had an “extended right hemicolectomy”.

Secondly, a bit of very welcome news, was that I did not have a stoma and therefore would not be having to deal with a colostomy bag.

The Hospital Stay

After a brief sojourn in the recovery room I was wheeled along to ICU to spend my first night in hospital. But before I could contemplate sleep I was given a full body bed bath. That was a first for me.

I was also starving, not having eaten since Sunday evening, the day before. But at this time I was restricted to clear fluids.

How noisy are hospitals ? Staff banging cupboard doors, clattering of trolleys and trays and let’s not forget talking at elevated levels. At one stage there was a guy strutting the length of the ward, and back again, speaking into a phone which he held away from his face.

Don’t they realise there are sick people in ICU, trying to rest and recover ?

1st April – Operation Day +1

At around 10:30 the staff in ICU got me out of bed, had me sitting in a chair and brought me stuff to have a wash. To be fair I didn’t stay in that chair for long. It was too upright, not very comfy, made my back ache and my tummy was a bit sore.

But there was a nice view away to the south and west looking out over Portchester, the Isle of Wight and down to Southampton Water. All with blue skies and sunshine.

Still no food, just clear fluids, black tea, black coffee,  water !!! and I’m starving.

Later, on the evening of the same day, they moved me out of ICU and shipped me off to the surgical ward. Sharing the ward with six other inmates and no view.

If I thought ICU was noisy, they had nothing on this ward. I couldn’t see what it was but there was something at the far end of the ward making a sound like a diesel truck on a fast idle. Thankfully after about thirty minutes it stopped. Rumour has it that the noise was from an air bed being inflated !!!

Apart from the noise, another issue I had was the temperature of the ward. On arrival I broke into a sweat and I know, when at home, I  break out at around 25°C. One of the nurses very kindly brought me a fan which improved things but, under cover of darkness, someone snuck in and turned it off.

How Rude!

2nd April – Operation Day +2

A nurse brought me a bowl of warm water for a wash and a change of gown. Ablutions completed I tried to put on the fresh gown which was way to small. When I flagged the size issue I was told that they had no gowns my size and offered me a “shirt”, i.e. an NHS pyjama jacket which was even smaller. The nurse said she would order a larger gown.

Order ? How long was that gonna take?

Anyway, thankfully, someone turned up with a large gown. I should point out that I did have my own pyjamas but due to the various tubes attached about my person there was no way I could get into them. At this time I was catheterised and also having a saline drip.

Time in hospital can pass very slowly. I had prepared for this by bringing in a book to read, also a book of crossword puzzles. I also had my phone on which I do soduku and read via Kindle. The problem was that I couldn’t focus on anything. In fact trying to focus took so much effort I kept dozing.

I had a very pleasant visit from my granddaughter in the morning and, later, my wife and daughter arrived to break up the afternoon.

At last, I was told I could have something to eat. My first meal for three days was a supper of chicken soup, yoghurt, jelly, and vanilla ice cream. Not very substantial but you would not believe how good that chicken soup tasted.

Throughout the day, with each and every visit from a nurse or doctor, I was constantly asked if I have moved my bowels, or if I  have broken wind. At this time my answers were all in the negative.

After supper I was asked what I wanted for brekky. Options were orange juice and/or yoghurt. I opted for the yoghurt.

3rd April – Operation Day +3

I had a visit from the surgeon.  Nice guy. He introduced himself and I promptly forgot his name. He said he wanted to try me on real food, with more substance. He also said they were planning to remove the catheter… yay!! Also, there was mention of the possibility of me going home, either today or tomorrow. This is all sounding good. All of this was discussed while he tapped, squeezed, and generally fondled my belly. Oh, I didn’t mention the gaggle of other medics, around half a dozen, gathered around the foot of my bed. Any privacy or dignity I had rapidly flew out the window.

I was given some of my own daily blood pressure meds. I’ve not had any since before the op. I was also given a dose of liquid paracetamol.  It is thick in texture, very sweet and it tastes of strawberries, Yuuukkk !!!

I don’t remember lunch but supper was Pea Soup with an awful bread roll.  Think the roll was made without any fat, it fell apart when I tried to cut it so that I could butter it. Tried eating it but it just clagged up my mouth. There was also an egg mayo sandwich. I only ate half as it was on some strange, strongly flavoured, malted bread, and again a weird texture. I tried dunking it in the soup but it didn’t help. Obviously my tastebuds had become confused. Hospital food isn’t really that bad. or is it?

During the day I have been getting an acidic feeling at the back of my throat, like indigestion. I mentioned this to a nurse who got me some Gaviscon. It helped a bit.

4th April – Operation Day +4

Bad news, I’ve been sick!! I was told that if I  am sick twice in the day I will be aspirated i.e. have a tube put up my nose and down into my stomach. This sounds unpleasant, and definitely something to be avoided.

Now they are taking bloods to see if I have an infection, and are concerned about the low volume pee. So, I definitely won’t be going home today.

Supper time arrives and I was feeling sick and requested another anti-sickness pill. Supper was chicken soup but I don’t recall eating it.

Even though I’m just drinking water it seems to be sitting high in my tummy. I’m not feeling comfortable at all.

5th April – Operation Day +5

So, I was sick during the night and as a result I was intubated. That was not a pleasant experience. As the tube goes in it causes you to retch and then once inserted you can feel the tube in your throat every time you swallow. The nurse siphoned out nearly a litre of dark green fluid. It appears that my vomiting is due to Ileus, a not uncommon post operative complication after abdominal surgery. In essence the bowel goes on strike

So now I have two bags hanging on the side of the bed. One for  my catheter and one for my nasal tube. I also have a saline drip attached to the cannula in my right arm. It’s almost like being at the centre of a spiders web.

While the tube is in I am nil by mouth,  just sips of water. So back to my starvation diet.

6th April – Operation Day +6

Due to all my attachments I had to call for the commode last night. And, whilst sat on the commode,  my nasal tube took it upon itself to sneak out and fall on the floor. I buzzed for the nurse who got a fresh tube and installed it which again caused me to retch and vomit. Just wonderful. That was at 03:00.

During the day they disconnected my nasal tube from its bag and told me I could go on free fluids. So I had an ice cold glass of milk, and boy did that hit the spot. The milk was, later,  followed by a cup of hot chocolate.

I was told that I can stay on free fluids but they will reconnect the tube to the bag at night time. Some good news, it was confirmed that Bovril is allowed under the free fluids plan so have asked Gerry to bring some in.

Bad news, the blood tests have shown some negative markers, and so, they think I might have developed an infection. Therefore, as a precaution, I have been moved to my own room. Bonus, I have my own window with a view and can open said window, so plenty of fresh air.

In the early evening I had a lovely video call  from my granddaughter and her kids. Jax, who is autistic, saw my nasal tube and immediately wanted to know what it was. We told him I was in hospital. His response was “go get Grandad, bring him home” Unseen by me, Jax trotted off downstairs, let himself out the front door and was trying to get into his mums car. Their dog, Milo, alerted my daughter and she caught him outside. Cute.

7th April – Operation Day +7

Thankfully the nasal tube has been removed and so, it appears, I’m back on the free fluids diet which is some kind of progress. Lunch today was tomato soup, orange jelly, and vanilla ice cream, bliss!!!

In the afternoon, friends, Eric, Mary, and Mo visited for a couple of hours. It was nice to have someone to talk to. Eric and Mary left after an hour which left Mo to entertain me. Unfortunate for Mo, she was soon treated to the sight of me sliding out of bed clutching the back of my gown, carrying my bag of urine (golden handbag) and shuffling across the corridor to the loo. She took it all in good heart.

Todays supper treat was mushroom soup, more jelly, and ice cream. The soup was, once again, very tasty.

After Mo’s departure and having nothing better to do, I read the ingredient list for the orange jelly. Shock, horror, there is no orange in it. There is carotene, I assume that’s for the colour. I had thought that the flavour was a little odd, now I know why.

8th April – Operation Day +8

Finally, I got a decent night’s sleep, the first since the surgery. Also, my tummy is feeling less bloated which, I guess, means some of the gas used during the operation is beginning to dissipate.

Brekky today was rice crispies, orange juice, toast, and marmalade. Actually, to call it toast was a bit of an exaggeration. I think the slice of bread had seen a photo of a toaster but not actually been in one. Still, after being starved and then only getting liquids to eat this was definitely a step up and in the right direction.

After breakfast I was asked to select my lunch, so I chose Beef Lasagne,  scallop potatoes and gravy. More solids … yes!!!

The lasagne was blooming marvellous although, surprisingly, I had to confirm that it was beef, to me it tasted like the best herby pork sausage. So that has triggered the idea that I will try making a lasagne with italian pork sausage meat, when I get home.

I also had a bit of a revelation today. I had a shower, my first since prior to my surgery, and I was so pleased to get my hair washed. The whole shower thing was a bit weird as I still had the catheter in place and so I had to take my golden handbag along with me. But sitting on the provided stool and just letting the water flow over me was superb.

I also had lots of visitors today, so it was a good job that I had that shower … lol.

Todays supper was Lancashire hotpot with extra mash. The hotpot was very nice but the mash was very dry. And, I  didn’t get the recommended extra gravy I requested. However, I did get two Vanilla ice creams. They really are very nice, smooth and creamy.

Finally, my catheter has been removed but, unfortunately, I haven’t pee’d since. So I was given an ultrasound of the bladder and, apparently, there wasn’t much pee in there so retention isn’t an issue. Bottom line, I have to up my fluid intake, then if I don’t pee they will catheterise me again. And we don’t want that.

With the catheter gone I am now in my jim jams which are much more comfortable than those horrible hospital gowns. And finally, at around 21:00, the dam burst and I managed a pee. This was followed by several others during the night. All were captured so the nurses could check the volume and, apparently, all is good.

9th April – Operation Day +9

Hallelujah, the surgeon has told me that I can go home, shook my hand and wished me well. I asked a nurse what the discharge procedure was. I was told that getting meds from the pharmacy was usually the thing that dictated when I could go, but that I should expect late afternoon or evening.

Shortly after this the ward sister came to see me, told me my meds had been requested and the indications were that they would be available sooner, rather than later. She told me to order lunch just in case it actually was later. In fact meds and lunch arrived together. I was told to have lunch and then the discharge process could be completed.

Wow, lunch was a celebration. Roast turkey breast, roast potatoes, sprouts, carrots, and, wait for it, banana stuffing!!!! Who ever heard of banana stuffing? Certainly not me, and it wasn’t for my palate.  Apparently, it is a carribean thing.

Anyway, food eaten, sister returned with my meds, my discharge papers and one last bit of education. New news to me was that I was going to have to inject myself with an anticoagulant.  She had a syringe and rolled up pad to simulate my tummy. I was directed in the correct use. The two carrier bags of meds contained, primarily, several boxes of preloaded syringes. I am to inject myself twice daily, for thirty days.

So, formalities completed, the porter arrived and I was soon loaded into a wheel chair and propelled to the main exit where my son-in-law was waiting to drive me home.

And there we have it. My hospital experiences around my robotic laparoscopic right side hemicolonectomy.

Bobs Bowel 9 – A Grand Day Out


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

Bobs Bowel 7 – Outpatients Anaesthetics


Thursday 13th February, and another appointment. Once again, at the Queen Alexandra Hospital. I’ll soon have my own allocated parking space if my visits carry on at this rate.

This time my appointment is with an anaesthetist in the Outpatients department.

My appointment was at 10:00, and right on the button, I was whisked away for some observations. I had my blood pressure, weight, and height measured, again. I was also given an ECG.  And then it was back to the waiting room where I had time to make friends, playing peek-a-boo with a toddler.

After a short while my name was called by the anaesthetist wearing an amazing pair of electric blue shoes.

After the usual pleasantries she revealed that we had met before. Ten years ago, when I went in for the brachytherapy treatment for my prostate. She was the anaesthetist who drew the short straw for my procedure. As a patient I was not very cooperative, not on purpose. With me sat on the table in theatre she attempted to give me an epidural. Three times!! My body just refused to play ball, would not give up my spinal fluid so no further attempts were made.

Once the procedure was underway it was time for me to misbehave again. I unconciously decided to vomit. She unfortunately had to deal with that, and call in Dynarod to suck out my tubes.

I apologised to her as in my head I was to blame, having had rather a lot of cheese as my last meal the night  before the procedure. Nobody told me that they tilted you head down to insert the nuclear seeds. She showed me the copious notes taken following that little episode but she was quite magnanimous. Noting my, as yet undiagnosed, type 2 diabetes which apparently can have the effect of slowing down your stomach process, causing “pooling” which in turn can cause regurgitation.

After reminiscing about old times we got down to the business in hand. We had the inevitable chat about my health in general and specifically focussing on weight, fitness and diet.

I was given a thorough but gentle arse kicking. Likening preparing for the operation to an athlete preparing for the olympics. Apparently the procedure will last about four hours and, although I will be unconcious laid out on the table, for my body it will be akin to running against Usain Bolt. So, as she put it, I need to be in the best possible shape to deal with the procedure but also the fitter I am the faster I will recover.

Exercise and weight loss are the order of the day, supplemented by plenty of practice with my spirometer. She wants me to up my daily walking. That shouldn’t be hard since it is negligible at the moment.

We also talked about diet with regard to my diabetes which can have a negative impact on my post op recovery. And right there is where I get into trouble.

In general the medics extol the benefits of a balanced diet, with plenty of fruit, vegetables, nuts, seeds and so forth. Quite often promoted as the mediterranean diet. Below is a typical chart promoting a balance diet. All stuff that I like.

Due to the location of my tumour which is partially blocking my bowel I have been advised to stay on a low residue diet which conflicts with the idea of a balanced diet. Which in turn also conflicts with a diabetic friendly diet.

What that means is that the only food that I can eat from the green zone is carrots which have been peeled and cooked until they are soft. I can have cucumber but I have to peel it and scoop out the seeds. From the yellow zone I cannot eat any of the wholegrain items. I can have potatoes cooked without their skins and not shown I can have white bread, rice and pasta.

Hang on a bit, actually, for my diabetes I should not be eating any quantity of carbohydrates as this gets turned into sugar, bad for diabetics. So between the diabetes and my tumour everything in the yellow zone is pretty much a no-no.

Things do get a little better when we look at that strange pink zone. I can eat the tinned tuna, chicken, fish, eggs, and mince. Although my tumour says no to fish skin and bones like you might get with sardines and pilchards. Meat is fine but no gristly bits, no bacon rind etc.

And on to the blue zone where I am allowed small amounts of cheese and milk.

And so, I am resigned to eating a mainly protein diet, not quite leaping into the full carnivor diet. Supplemented by squidgy overcooked root vegetables.

As if meal preparation wasn’t already difficult enough.

Ah well, as the anaesthetist says, it is only for a few weeks.

Sad to say, I still don’t have a date for my op.

Bobs Bowel 6 – Iron Intravenous Infusion


Monday 10th February and, as I stated in my last post, although I don’t have a date for the surgery the NHS is hell bent on keeping me busy.

Following my colonoscopy I was informed that I was borderline anaemic and that I would need an Iron Infusion before my surgery.

Today is the day and my appointment was scheduled for 10:00. However, my iron prescription has not arrived.

So, sitting waiting. It is 10:30 !

It’s now 11:10, and after much searching, the nurses, three of them, have managed to cannulate me. Apparently, my veins were playing hide and seek. Not helped by my not having had a drink before arriving in hospital.

I did make a cup of tea, but traffic news indicated problems, so we left early. My tea is still sitting on the kitchen counter.

I am now hooked up to the iron  juice,

and literally, it has just entered my arm.

The infusion should take about an hour.

Job done in just under an hour. I’ve been unplugged, given a cup of coffee and an egg mayo butty. Thirty minutes to check there are no ill effects.

Thirty minutes was up. Took my blood pressure, blood gas, and temperature. All good. The canula was removed, and I was discharged.

It’s now 13:30 and I’m sitting in the hospital cafeteria having a proper coffee. I’m killing some time before heading up to visit a friend of mine who has been a patient here for the last few days.

As for me, I have go and get a blood test in two weeks to see if the iron juice has done its job.

More later ….

Bobs Bowel 5 – Surgery School


Monday 3rd February and the preparations for my impending surgery continue apace. The latest adventure was a two hour class at Surgery School.

I know the NHS is constantly strapped for cash but putting me through a crash course in surgery doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence that my outcome will be positive.

Of course the aim is not for me to carry out DIY surgery. No this session was all about preparing me for surgery and getting me as fit as possible both for the procedure and the recovery period after.

Getting fitter, they say, will help reduce the risks associated with the surgery. Risks such as chest infection, blood clots, kidney problems, wound infection / healing.

To this end the speakers were focusing on exercise and nutrition, the importance of a balanced diet. Unfortunately, my cancer is such that it is partially blocking my bowel. Because of this I am continuing on a low residue diet which means I cannot eat many of the “healthy” foods. No wholegrain breads, no high fibre vegetables such as onions, leeks, cabbages, and cauliflower. Also many of my favourite salad vegetables such as tomatoes, peppers, radishes, celery and baby corn are excluded. In addition to the low residue diet I am also on a course of laxative, Molaxole. To help keep things moving.

Thankfully I am not a smoker as that is definitely a no-no. Apparently smoking can have detrimental effects on ones ability to heal and also the well publicised impact on the respiratory system.

Similarly, drinking alcohol is frowned upon. My consumption in general has reduced dramatically over the last few years, to the point where I might only have a pint of beer or a glass of wine every week or two. Total abstinence won’t be an issue for me.

Preferably they like patients to totally abstain from drinking and smoking on the run up to surgery and offer help to those who need it.

And finally, that brings me to the contraption in the photo below. No it isn’t some kind of sex toy. This beast is an Incentive Spirometer.

Incentive Spirometer

All folks attending surgery school were given one of these. The purpose is to reduce the risk of lung complications following surgery.

Use of the incentive spirometer is part of the iCOUGH process a program implemented by hospitals nationally and internationally. The acronym ICOUGH stands for: Incentive Spirometry, Coughing and deep breathing, Oral care, Understanding, Getting out of bed at least three times daily, and Head-of-bed elevation. The program emphasizes deep breathing exercises to keep lungs healthy and prevent lung problems. Oral care, patient and family education, getting out of bed, and head-of-bed elevation are also important components of the program.

We were instructed to use this device three time per day prior to surgery, and every hour following surgery.

I still don’t have a date for the actual surgery but the medics are focussed on getting me fit and also preventing me from getting bored.

Bobs Bowel 4 – NHS Healthcare


After years of paying National Insurance there is no doubt I am getting my moneys worth from the NHS. After playing the poo sticks game I have had a Colonoscopy, CT Colonography, a session with a colo-rectal consultant and have been booked in to Surgery School.

My home phone seems like it is a hot line to the QA (Queen Alexandra Hospital).

Following the consult I received a text message informing me that a call had been booked by the Care Coordinator !!! No explanation of why. Obviously I could make a pretty goood guess. But I still had to confirm back to them that a call before midday on the 31st was acceptible. I also took the opportunity to ask what the call was about. The response was almost instantaneous. Lisa, the Care Coordinator from my GP Surgery, having seen various letters between the hospital and my GP, was making a courtesy call to see how I was doing with the ongoing investigations.

So Friday 31st arrived and it turns out that Lisa had very little information. I have since seen the letters that my GP was sent. Not very enlightening. So I brought Lisa up to speed, giving my history so far, up to and including my consult on Tuesday.

She in turn told me about the services that were available to me leading up to the surgery and what support they can provide after I return home. This includes councelling, assistance with obtaining benefits etc. After a very pleasant chat we agreed that she would call me on 28th February to see how I was going. Hopefully I will be home recuperating after the operation.

As I said my phone has been very busy. On Friday morning I missed a call from Julie, one of the colo-rectal nurses. She left a message inviting me to call her back. I returned her call and retaliated by leaving her a message in her voicemail. After one round of answer phone tennis she called me.

She asked if I had heard from the anaesthetist, which I had not. She told me that they had spotted that I was borderline anaemic and that I needed to be scheduled in for an iron infusion/transfusion!

Two weeks ago, the doctor that did my colonoscopy had told me about this. I had forgotten but I am glad that the anaesthetist is on the ball. Julie told me that I should probably expect to be contacted early next week, and that if I didn’t hear from them by Wednesday, to call her.

Later that day I received one of those neutral NHS appointment invitations. Informing me that an appointment has been made for 10:00 on Thursday 13th of February. What is this for? Is it for my iron infusion, or just a face to face with the anaesthetist? There is no information about what if anything I need to take with me. Nurse Julie told me I should arrange a lift for when I have the infusion just in case I’m not fit to drive after. There is nothing in this invite to clarify so I will have to call them on Monday.

One thing I will say for the NHS, once you are in the system they do look after you. So far, I have nothing but praise for the staff that I have been involved with. With the one exception, the CT Colonography, they have ensured that my experience thus far has been reasonably pleasant.

Back Pain – At Last A Diagnosis


Spinal stenosis happens when the space inside the backbone is too small. This can put pressure on the spinal cord and nerves that travel through the spine. Spinal stenosis occurs most often in the lower back and the neck. Some people with spinal stenosis have no symptoms.

For years, Gerry, my wife, has suffered back problems. Problems which were caused initially when Gerry was a trainee nurse. She was trying to help move a patient who wouldn’t comply with instructions. Bingo ! There then followed years of painful episodes.

Gerry tried various treatments ranging from putting a board under the bed mattress thru acupuncture and microwave treatments and on to the more physical chiropractor, osteopath, and physiotherapist sessions.

Some of these treatments seemed to work, and others seemed to do nothing much at all. Regardless, Gerry has suffered.

More recently and for some time, Gerrys ability to stand for longish periods has been diminishing. As has her ability to walk any great distances. This prompted me to obtain a wheelchair which did help some, and then after hiring one at a garden show, we bought Gerry a mobility scooter.

Last year, June 2022, Gerry started a particularly painful episode. The pain was unrelenting, mainly in her lower back, but also shooting down her legs.

We were due to go on holiday with family to Menorca and things were so bad I thought we would cancel. But Gerry was adamant, another word for stubborn. The holiday went ahead but only due to the use of airport services who transported Gerry through Gatwick and Mahon airports and loaded her onto the planes. I have to say the folks working in airport services were brilliant.

As for the holiday, it wasn’t the best. Although we went out for meals, we were pretty much confined to barracks with Gerry spending a lot of time laid on a bed. I suppose it was some compensation that it was warm and sunny.

Following the holiday, Gerrys back pain continued, easing a bit then increasing, then easing again but never really going away.

And so Christmas came and went, and to add to her woes, Gerry got a chest infection. I’m pretty sure she got one around the same time last year. We managed to get Gerry a telephone consult, and she was prescribed antibiotics without anyone seeing her or laying hands or a stethoscope on her. The chest infection seemed to clear up but came back again, so more antibiotics were prescribed. Still no face to face with a doctor.

Chest infection, finally, dealt with, and the back pain was still there. Gerry then got an ear infection. This triggered a face to face with a real doctor. The net result was more antibiotics but, big but, we were also able to discuss Gerrys back issues.

Following the doctors consult, Gerry got an appointment to see a physiotherapist who was a spinal specialist.

What a refreshing experience that was. He gave Gerry a thorough workup. Examining her mobility and discussing all aspects of her pain and additional symptoms such as continence issues.

Following his assessment, he told us that he suspected Gerry was suffering from severe spinal stenosis that, if untreated, could mean paralysis of her legs and further serious continence issues. He further stated that at no time should Gerry allow any physical manipulation, i.e., by a physiotherapist, osteopath, or chiropractor.

The physiotherapist referred Gerry for an MRI. Within a month, Gerry had the scan, and a few days later, the results were available. He called early one morning to confirm that, as he suspected, Gerry did, in fact, have severe spinal stenosis of the L3/L4 vertebrae.

Wow ! A diagnosis. You cannot know what that meant to Gerry. Up till now, she had always had the feeling that people didn’t believe that there was an issue. After all, it’s invisible. Now, with an official diagnosis, it seems more real.

So where to from there ? He told us that he was going to submit Gerrys case to the surgical team to see if they could operate.

Things moved quite quickly after that. We heard that the surgical team were prepared to operate, that we would be contacted by the surgeon.

Gerry then had an appointment to see the surgeon, Dr Davies, at New Hall Hospital, near Salisbury. He discussed the procedure and showed us the MRI images. The images showed very clearly what the issues were. In particular, they showed how the inside of Gerrys vertebrae had spurs, which were impinging on her spinal cord, the source of her continuing pain.

Dr Davies was very confident that he could operate and, at the very least, resolve Gerrys pain. This, in turn, would improve Gerrys posture, her ability to stand straight and to walk reasonable distances. Time would only tell if any spinal damage would be healed and alleviate the continence issues. So we left New Hall to await a date for Gerrys procedure.

We didn’t have to wait very long. Wednesday, the 1st of November, was the date set for the operation with a pre-admission clinic on Monday, the 30th of October.

And so Gerry had her procedure as scheduled. She was in theatre for around an hour and in a private room soon after. At around 17:15 she was visited by a physiotherapist who cajoled her into getting out of bed and had her walking down the hospital corridor. Shortly after that, I headed home with the intention of going back the following morning as early as I was allowed. Hospitals are not the most stimulating of places.

The following morning, I had already spoken to Gerry about her night, and if she managed to get any sleep. I had just cooked myself some breakfast when my phone rang. It was Gerry informing me that she could come home.

Wow !!! I was expecting Gerry to be kept in at least one more night. Obviously, she had impressed the medical staff so much that they felt she should complete her recovery at home.

Ninety minutes later I was loading a fairly tender Gerry into my car. One hours fairly careful driving and she was home.

And so, here we are, ten days after the operation. Gerry is fairly pain free. What pain she does have is from the surgery, not from the stenosis. All the signs are positive that the surgery has removed the pain. Gerry is able to get herself in and out of bed fairly well and she is definitely standing straighter. She is managing to navigate around the house with the aid of a Zimmer Frame. Time will only tell if her spinal cord will recover sufficiently to restore full continence. Such recovery could take up to eighteen months.

Gerry had an appointment on Tuesday at our local surgery to have the surgery site examined and the dressing removed. The wound is healing nicely, and it was not necessary to apply a new dressing. No stitches to be removed, just the glue which slowly disappear over time. And the best news, Gerry was told that she could have a shower, not having had one since November 1st.

On the 23rd of November, Gerry starts physiotherapy, which will speed her recovery and on to full independence. No doubt we will still be making use of the wheelchair and “Madge” the mobility scooter for some time. However the goal is for Gerry to, eventually, become separated from them too. Fingers crossed.

Gerry has already stopped using the Zimmer around the house.

Although Gerry was diagnosed with severe spinal stenosis this year and has been treated this year, I believe that she was exhibiting the symptoms over twelve months before. Two things delayed this diagnosis …

  • Gerrys on going back problems over so many years brought about a kind of “oh it’s just her back” kind of attitude. Just prescribe some painkillers but no real diagnostic investigation. Although Gerrys long-term back problems and the stenosis do not have the same origins, I am convinced that the former masked the onset of the latter.
  • The difficulty, post Covid, to get an appointment with a doctor, thereby blocking a proper diagnostic conversation and, of course, removing the visual aspect of a doctor actually observing their patient.

On the 14th December Gerry has a telephone consult with Mr Davies. Just over a month will have elapsed. What progress has been made remains to be seen.

So, that’s the story so far……

Taking The Edge Off


Merry Christmas to you all. And I truly mean that. I hope you have managed to have a great time, and that you have managed to stay healthy, despite Covids best efforts and those of the other seasonal diseases that tend to crop up at this time of the year.

Over past years Gerry and / or I have managed to contract one of the various bugs doing the rounds during the Christmas period. Being sick really does take the edge off things especially when it means not seeing the grandkids opening their presents.

However, an unexpected benefit of the precautions taken, during the Covid pandemic ,seemed to be a reduction in the number of these seasonal infections. Sadly, now that many of the precautions have been relaxed there are many bugs doing the rounds. And, of course, Gerry has gone down with the dreaded lurgy, yet again. I say yet again, as this must be the third bug she has contracted this year.

Usually we are scanning around for the culprit, hunting down patient zero, searching for the one that passed on their germs. However, this year there are several candidates.

On the Friday before Christmas we were visited by a friend who said her husband was suffering with something. On the Saturday, Christmas Eve and our 45th Wedding Anniversary, we were visited by our daughter Angie and her husband Jon. He was suffering with a sore throat, croaking well.

That brings us to Christmas Day itself. Our granddaughter Keeley was hosting us this year, and of course nobody wanted to call it off, but, Keeley and her eldest, were both suffering with their own lurgy variant. And we didn’t see her youngest as he was in bed all day doing battle with his own lurgy. Although we had a good time and the food was yummy, the day was a little subdued. The edge had definitely been taken off.

Obviously, the odds were not in our favour and Gerry started with a tickly, then sore, throat late on Monday, Boxing Day. And there we have it, multiple folks at which to point the finger of blame.

Our concern is, as always, that anytime Gerry contracts one of these coughy cold/flu things, it invariably travels down onto her chest and evolves into a chest infection. Earlier this year she had two such episodes resulting in three prescriptions of antibiotics.

This morning, wanting to get a jump on things, I started the marathon task of trying to get an appointment to see / speak to a doctor. To stand a chance of getting an appointment, you have to start calling Crookhorn Surgery at 08:00. I started calling on the dot, with the following results ……

75 Calls = Number of attempted calls when the line was engaged.
This is only possible when using a modern phone, hitting redial immediately the system drops the call. I can’t imagine what folks do that are still reliant on landline phones and those that aren’t au fait with modern technology.

7 Calls = Number of calls picked up by the automated system, where I had to listen, excitedly, to a message which informed me that they were busy and to call back later. At which point the call is cut leading to huge disappointment.

At 08:13, after some 82 redials, I managed to break through to join a queue where I was informed, regularly, that my wait time was one minute. After some time I actually spoke to a human. The net result, after just under 10 minutes, was that we had been triaged and informed that we would receive a call from a doctor by 13:00.

This is better than last time where we attempted to get through, and, after 40 minutes were informed that there were no more appointments that day and that we would have to call back the following morning.

The good news from this, is that we had received the call from the GP, who duly prescribed the antibiotics. At 10:21 I received a text from the pharmacy to say that the script was ready for collection. By 11:30 Gerry had taken her initial dose.

Obviously, this is an improvement over our previous experience. But it does not reflect well on the NHS. Covid regularly gets the blame for whatever ails the NHS. All I can say is that prior to 2019 we were able to get appointments fairly easily, that we actually got to see a doctor on almost every occasion. Since 2019, trying to phone for an appointment is a chore, which rarely results in a face to face appointment.

Today my wife was called by a doctor who prescribed antibiotics over the phone. He didn’t see my wife, didn’t take her temperature, didn’t listen to her chest / lungs. This is not the NHS service that we are used to. But it seems that we are going to have to accept this as the new norm.

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.