Hi guys, I'm relieved to be back with
you, and trust you are all well. I guess by now, and as you haven’t
heard to the contrary, I survived the prostate operation, and I am on
the road to recovery. I'm looking forward to being my grumpy old self
soon. I would like to thank you all for the get well cards, phone
calls and emails, they were a great comfort. As usual, I treated the
whole thing too lightly and didn’t take much notice of what they
were telling me. I thought that I would be in and out, up and
running again in no time, of course, I overlooked what happens
in-between.
I have always had a grip on things, as
far as what happens to me. Made my own decisions, master in charge,
you know that sort of thing. This time though, I had come up against
something so horrible, so frightening, not encountered before and
against which I had no defence. My lovely wife Vi and daughter Carole
had, for once in their lives, found that they had possession of my
body and mind, and that I was no longer capable of thinking or doing
anything for myself, heaven help me!!!
It's like one chick being shared
between two hens and each wanting a bit of the action. A day or so
before the op, my bag was packed, anyone would have thought I was
going away for a month, all the things I might need. Ladies panty
liners and extra pairs of pants in case I dribble or pee myself!!!
The rest I would rather not mention. I had to be at the hospital at
seven in the morning and it was a two hour drive, so we were up, and
on the road at four thirty. It’s going to be a long day.
Carole drove. You warm enough Dad?,
you need to stop for the toilet? Yes and no, I said, I just sat there
thinking about what is going to happen to me in a few hours’ time.
During the periods of silence, and with
Vi and Carole together there were not many, I could sense their
concern for me and understood their desire to be with me when they
took me down, and be there six hours later, when I arrived back, and
hopefully, came round.
Operation over, I was moved into
recovery, with a nurse whispering sweet nothings into my ear to bring
me around. My brain started to work, but I was still not fully
awake. After a while I was released to my room at the far end of the
hospital. I felt awful, I sensed that I was travelling but didn’t
know where. The surrounding noises, bumps, and crashing of the
trolley were confusing. As we moved along the corridors I thought,
momentarily, that I was driving, but could not see any road.
The motion of the trolley stopped, I
could vaguely hear people talking to me when I recognised Vi’s
voice and turned to where it was coming from. My clouded vision was
clearing and peering down at me with her come to bed eyes, was Vi.
With Carole looking over her shoulder, both looked relieved, that I
was still in the land of the living. Happy that the operation was a
success Vi and Carole left me to sleep, and went home. Through that
evening and night, until five in the morning, I couldn’t sleep.
Someone visiting, doing, or checking, something or other, every hour,
no serious pain, but just felt lousy.
Later in the morning, feeling a bit
better, but with continuous hiccups, I knew that there was something
attached to my leg, but wasn’t sure, how or where it was connected
to my body and thought no more about it.
The nurse in charge came to see me,
South African, a lovely lady, I want you up and walking today, she
said, at the same time, turning the bed covers back, lifting and
turning me into the sitting position on the side of the bed. The
nurse left me alone for a few minutes, an opportunity for me to have
a look to see what had been done to me. Shock horror, I looked like
a badly wrapped parcel. There were five holes across my belly,
already stitched up, a sixth, was still active with a pipe protruding
and capped with a bag to drain fluid from somewhere. There was
another pipe attached to a bag on my leg, which I traced via the pipe
back to my oversized underpants. Cautiously, opening the waist band
of my pants, I peeped in.
I nearly fainted when I saw the state,
of my manhood. Aubergine purple in colour, it looked like a kilo of
raw mincemeat, rolled neatly into a ball. I then saw what happened
to the other end of the pipe. What a mess I'm in. On top of all
this I wanted to pass wind, but couldn’t. I wondered if by mistake
they had sewn up my rear end!! They got me up and walking and
generally sorted me out. The consultant came to see me that morning.
I could see that there was some concern about the continuous hiccups!
He said normally I would go home the next day, but before I go, they
would like to investigate the hiccup problem, and keep me under
observation for another day. I had more tests and a CT Scan to make
sure all the pipes were connected correctly. They couldn’t see
anything wrong, but suggested that it might rectify, itself. Still
hiccuping, Vi and Carole arrived and spent a few hours with me. I had
tried to do big jobs on and off during the day but no luck. You know
what it's like, you really want to go, but the rear end was not
having any of it. Vi and Carole left once more for home, and would
return to collect me the following day.
I decided to walk the corridor a few
times to get some exercise. I put on my dressing gowned, tucked the
pipes and bags in, to look a bit tidy, then set off hiccuping down
the corridor. After a couple of circuits and at the very far end of
the corridor, I felt my stomach rumble, followed by a very urgent
desire to reach my room. Have you ever tried to run with the cheeks
of your bum clenched tight, very difficult. My stomach noises and
the pressure from the wind trying to escape, increased as I walked
along the corridor holding onto my pipes and bags, cheeks clenched.
I could feel the battle being lost, the highly compressed air on the
inside was now getting to the outside and became a huge fart. With
every step I took the noise increased, for some reason the normally
quiet corridor, was packed with people. I avoided eye contact and
shuffled past sounding like a badly tuned set of Bagpipes with bad
breath. I reached the security of my room while rapidly releasing the
remainder of the compressed air, while at the same time diving for
the toilet. Sitting comfortably, enjoying the relief, I noticed that
the hiccups had stopped. A bit later everybody seemed to be happy
with my progress so I was given my marching orders.
I always try to make light about
situations like this, I find it helps, so I hope I haven’t offended
anyone. Joking aside, I was in hospital for three days, I couldn’t
have received better treatment, the staff at all levels were
courteous, respectful, and above all very professional. I knew I was
in good hands. I was one of many men having their prostate sorted
out. The word is, if you have to choose what cancer you have in your
life, you choose prostate cancer. Why, because if you catch it early
enough, you can be treated and cured. I did a silly thing, I knew
that there was something wrong with my prostate before I left on the
journey, but I kept it to myself until I got back. So far, I have
got away with it. All you guys should take note, prostate cancer is
as common as Breast cancer is to women. Do yourself a favour, pick up
the phone, book an appointment, and have your prostate checked.
Cheer up, speak to you soon Les
A passing note, I forgot to mention,
when they sent me home, I still had the bag attached to my leg, and
connected to my, YOU KNOW WHAT. It’s quite handy sitting typing and
having a pee at the same time. They are taking it out next week HOPE
I REMEMBER!!!!!
