The long awaited second instalment! Day 4 to Discharge

Day 4 continues……

Ok this all may seem funny now but at the time this was very real and very scary.

I'm taken to my new room 513 on surgical. The first problem is that I am hot. Now I don’t just mean "someone turn up the air con" I mean my body, and especially my face is on fire. I feel like I am going to explode with this heat and it is making me feel terrible. I demand to be fanned. Mum and Matt get to work with magazines whilst the nurses look for a fan. There isn’t one in the hospital, so with my heat increasing, Matt makes the 1 hour round trip home to get ours.

Now my mum has arthritis in her hands and carpal tunnel so this is killing her. Every time they stop I beg for more. The air con is now on its lowest, everyone is freezing except me. My temperature is taken regularly but there is no problem. Just going to have to ride this out. When Matt arrives with the fan he finds mum has fallen asleep, I mean really! And I'm still crying out to be cooled. Anyway the fan works, crisis 1 diverted!

Crisis 2- I discover I can't open my left eye at all and barely my right. When I manage a slit the room is scrolling down like a broken computer and everything is blurry. On top of that I am just not right. Can't put my finger on it but it's like I'm looking down on myself acting as a puppeteer instead of the person. Now I have had anaesthetic before but this is different. "Oh God, I have had a neurological event" is my thought. I lie there and check my body- I can move every part, I can think and I can speak but something has definitely happened. I think back to uni and try to work out which part of my brain could be damaged. Now, I am a rational, reasonably intelligent individual but at this moment I am 100% convinced I have had some type of stroke. And I am really scared.

I wait for mum to leave the room, no point worrying her just yet, and explain the situation to Matt. "Now, I have had some kind of neurological event. I need you to explain this to the doctors. This is serious and I want it taken seriously". His reply was to tell me it was just the anaesthetic and I am fine. The doctors were happy. I lie there in quiet outrage that he is not taking me seriously. I am scared but I am just going to have to hope 'M' comes to see me. She will know what to do.

Crisis 3- I am developing an altered personality- obviously linked to crisis 2! I have this intense aggression and rage towards everyone. Right at this moment I could punch everyone that speaks or comes near me. In fact if I could open my eyes and see them I might just have done that! Matt has a cold and he is sniffing in my ear. "Stop sniffing and blow your nose" I scream. I feel like if I had a knife I would have cut off his nose, no joke. "Will you two stop talking over me so I can get some sleep" when what I wanted to do was throw them both out of the 5th floor window! And when they respected this and started to whisper " How I am meant to know what you are saying if you are both going to whisper"! Leave me alone to monitor my neurological signs! Every nurse got shouted at and I told them in no uncertain terms that for 25,000 pounds I was disgusted that I had to bring my own fan! Now this was my new ward, with my new nurses, so they must have thought I was a darling!

Finally 'M' arrives. Everything will be ok now- CT head will be organized, full neuro assessment will be done and I will know the extent of the damage. Not quite! 'M' 'humoured' me with a basic neuro check, including making me smile to check for face drop, and reassured me it was just the morphine. Now I'm not sure about this. My aggression starts to boil and I think no one in the world understands me. However, I hadn’t considered the morphine. Maybe she has a point!

Ok had time to reflect and it's probably the morphine! I am someone that hates drugs. I mean really hates drug use. It makes me angry (even at non-morphine enraged times) and extremely upset. And if this is what taking drugs is like then I think people must be mad. I had just had probably the worst experiences of my life in the last few hours and some people pay for this?! I mean, I know I'm a control freak (I even hate it and begin to panic when you have had one too many drinks and the toilet cubicle starts to blur) but that was horrendous. Why would you not want to be in control of your own body like that? Anyway rant over!

Day 5- Tuesday
After no sleep all night I realize I can start to open my eyes and see. Ok so I admit it was the morphine and I am going to be fine!

Feel awful today. NG tube is making me very nauseous and trying to retch with 9 staples in your tummy is agony. Thank god for the catheter because I could not be getting out of bed today. I can't move on my own because of the pain and I am so weak as I haven’t eaten for 4 days that I can barely speak. I feel like death warmed up and I certainly looked like it.

Dr S comes to visit me. Explains that he removed a large section of my colon but that he was really happy with the surgery. He could not wait to show me and the nurses the scar. His best yet he proclaimed! And he had cut around my piercing so if I still wanted to act like a teenager I could! The section had been sent straight for testing and results would be within 48 hours. I asked the dreaded question, "in your experience what do you think of the tissue?" He refused to answer stating experience had told him never to speculate and always wait for results. At that point I knew I had cancer. Surgeons know what they have seen and would have a strong suspicion of diagnosis. I did not push him further and I wasn’t even disturbed by my thoughts. The aim- to get strong and be discharged and that was the only thing I was going to concentrate on.

Managed to doze throughout the day but probably the longest day of my life. My thoughts- this can only get better. Seem to be in a different world. Mum says I am acting like a zombie with 'dead' eyes. Can't engage, can't look people in the eye and staring straight ahead seems to be the only thing I can manage.

After my 'traumatic' night, and because I am sure the nurses are scared of me! I am given the 'employee of the month' as my day nurse! A lovely Irish lady, nurse 'C', who turns out to be not only a very special lady, and one I will always remember, but an extremely good nurse. She takes control, she explains every minute detail to me and I begin to see the tiny light at the end of the tunnel.

I am told the key to surgical success is the passing of wind! Apparently everyone will be asking me this and I will receive applause when it is achieved! Once wind has been passed the NG tube will be removed and the re-introduction of food takes place. Fingers crossed but so far no sign of any activity below my stomach!

The physio comes to see me today. Now I do feel sorry for them. In hospitals in Dubai some of the therapists only receive a year's training in their home country before coming over. I am seriously under-impressed. A small girl shuffles into the room and hands me an incentive spirometer (physio tool to help with breathing- no longer used regularly in the UK as has no research evidence that it actually works!) with no introduction she tells me to blow 10 times every hour. I try to remain calm and kind as I explain that I am a physiotherapist, I have been doing my breathing exercising and have mobilized around my room. And yes I am aware of the after effects of anaesthetic on my respiratory system. She doesn’t understand and says "please blow 10 times now". I catch Matt's eye and I know he is willing me to keep calm and just do as she asks. I do, but only to keep him happy!

My lovely flowers start to arrive today. The first bunch is from my husband, whom I have to apologise to after last night's antics. And then pretty much on the hour new bunches and arrangements arrive from work, Matt's colleagues, friends and my lovely patients. My room looks like a flower shop and the smell is amazing. Definitely helping to cheer me up.

Day 6-Wednesday
Results day.

Today I need to take my thyroxine. The nurse on duty gives me the pill, stops the NG suction for 30 minutes and tells me to swallow. Ok, no problem with that. I am great with tablets, no tablet too big! This is definitely not due to my mum's influence growing up. Mum is a nightmare with tablets. They go in and out, coughed up, spat out until they are finally crushed or chewed! She blames it on watching her father struggle with taking tablets. Last Christmas we went to Dominican Republic and all had to take malaria tablets. Every morning at breakfast we would be cheering mum on and so pleased when she managed to swallow the tiny tablet. She has recently confessed that once the cheering had stopped and we got on with eating our breakfast, she spat them out without us noticing! Lucky she didn't get malaria! My husband is the same! His technique is hilarious. He throws the tablet to the back of his throat, tilts his head back and proceeds to try to wiggle and shake the tablet down! I have tried to explain that it is not normal to swallow with your head in this position so no wonder it is difficult but he won't listen.

Anyway, I had not considered the large tube blocking most of my oesophagus. The tablet gets stuck! Really stuck! The nurse starts to panic and gets nurse C. Nurse C is cross- obviously I should never have been given my thyroxine in tablet form at the moment. After 25 minutes of discomfort and sipping water it passes. Great, now I am going to have a psychological issue with taking tablets too!

Thankfully Dr S didn’t arrive until the afternoon as I think I needed a little more time before I heard the results. Armed with nurse 'C' he breezed into the room with an air of positivity. I like this guy. He checks me over- "the scar is perfect, the healing is superb, you are doing better than expected but unfortunately the tissue sample came back with signs of cancer". He told me in the perfect way. Reinforced the positives and then got straight to the point. He explains he removed 24cm of colon of which 4cm was tumour, and 27 lymph nodes, of which 9 contained cancer. He "had a look around" and he was happy that he had removed all the cancer and my liver looked good. "I have operated to cure you and not for palliative care". PALLIATIVE CARE- when was that even in the equation.

Now I cry easily. Any sad film, every wedding, even when I watch people at airports. But I did not feel like crying. S**t I have cancer kept going round in my mind. So surreal, like an out of body experience (my second of the week!). I thanked him. He said he would send the oncologist to see me and he left.

Matt crumbled- physically and emotionally. Now my husband is a sensitive soul, a big softee and this is why I love him soo much. He cried 17 times on our wedding day! So this reaction I was expecting. I think he was the only one who hadn’t considered cancer, ever the optimist! I asked mum to take him outside and I sat quietly with nurse 'C'. Just kept repeating oh my god I have cancer. She was lovely. Strangely I felt completely calm. Matt however, was not doing so well. The stress had brought on a nose bleed and he sat huddled in the corridor surrounded by blood and nurses. At least I can predict what will happen in the future when I'm in labour!

Matt is now going into overdrive. He wants to leave Dubai, return to England, get a new job etc,etc. I think what he really wants to do is scream and never stop. I am not leaving Dubai. Dubai is our home, we are happy here. Yes we are a long way from family but we have really great friends here. I explain that cancer is just going to be a small part of our lives and we have to keep going around it. When I am better I need to be able to just step right back in and carry on. I need him to be my normality.

And so as I lie on the bed in my calm zombie like state the news got spread. We are concerned about telling my brother and sister. My brother is home alone and my sister is in Portugal with her boyfriend. They also need to be told that they will need colonoscopies in the next few months to check they are all clear. This is what upsets me more than anything and I feel like I have something that I may have given them. They don't deserve to go through the testing and have the constant shadow of colon cancer over them.

The day passes in a blur of best wishes and animal planet. For some reason animal planet is the only thing I can bear to have on the TV. I am watching but not seeing or listening. Just lying in my own little bubble. I tell everyone I don't want to think of the diagnosis now, I need to concentrate on getting stronger and out of hospital.

Decide I am a little bit in love with my surgeon. Liked him before but now he has saved my life, I love him. As a stranger a week ago, he is now the most important person in my life (sorry Matt!). I will always have an attachment to him. When I voice these thoughts, mum admits she quite fancies him too and Matt admits feelings of love and worship also! I have worked with great surgeons and watched them perform miracles from open heart surgery to hip replacements but it isn’t until right now that I really appreciate what these people do. I love my job because I can make people's lives better and easier. But they save lives everyday- how great must that be! A new found respect for surgeons! Especially Dr S as he is so humble and doesn’t come with the usual 'god-complex'!

Dr K, the oncologist, comes to meet me. He is a well presented chap with an air of calm authority about him. He talks me through the stages of cancer. I am stage 3 meaning I have cancer in an organ and there has been spread to the local lymph system. Stage 4 is where there is also cancer in another organ and he is happy this is not me. He tells me the name of the two chemo drugs he will be using and the likely side effects. They seem pretty typical with nausea, fatigue, vomiting and diarrhea. He also mentions neuropathy- tingling and numbness in the finger tips and toes. This is a concern. My fingers are my tool for work. My fingers are just as important as my eyes for helping my patients. He explains the neuropathy may be permanent but that during treatment I should wear gloves and socks and not handle anything cold. My chemo treatment will be active for 48 hours with a 2 week break. This will be repeated for 12 cycles taking 6 months. He wants to start in 3-4 weeks once I have recovered from surgery. He sounds like a man with a plan, a good sensible plan at that, and I am happy. Most importantly I trust him with my life.

Mum seems to be holding it together too. I think she guessed cancer early on too but we just hadn’t discussed it. Mum is going to stay for the whole thing. She will be my main carer for 6 months and this is what I need. I have only been married a year and I don’t want Matt to be dealing constantly with the horrible side effects of this treatment. I love my mum to death but I feel she may slowly turn me crazy!

Now I worry about work again. Dr K does not recommend people return to physical work during chemo. The symptoms are unpredictable and I need to be relaxed and not stressed. 6 months off work. Will I still have a job in 6 months? We are busy and my place will need to be filled. Can we survive on Matt's salary? I decide these are things that I cannot worry about. Savings are there for times of need and I will always be a physiotherapist.

On a positive note, I walk into the corridor today. Sounds minute but massive psychological goal to have seen outside my room.

Day 7- Thursday
Wake up stiff. This having to lie flat and keep still is hard work! Seem to be able to talk better today, my voice is no longer a whisper and I can lift my head long enough to gain eye contact.

Hang on a minute…..what is this I can feel? Yep I have passed wind! Celebrations follow! I boast to anyone that will listen that I have farted! Nurse C is thrilled and promises to phone Dr S at once. Word on the ward is that I have been the quickest patient to fart post op this year! What a result! Always knew I was destined for the top! My body is finally doing me proud! Now if I can just manage a few more the NG tube can come out.

'J' and my boss come to visit this morning. My boss is a doctor so handy to have around in a time of medical crisis. She heads out to grill the surgeon and make sure I am receiving the best care. 'J' has bought me a lovely hamper of things to cheer me up- nail file, hand cream, lip balm, massage wash mittons, sweets and a suduko book. She has even bought me a new diary to log all my treatment dates. I think 'J' and I are the only people left in the world who love a small diary instead of electronic ones! Their visit spurs me on and my boss reassures me my job will be waiting for me. I have been very lucky since arriving in Dubai. I found my job in my first few days of being here and my colleagues have become part of my Dubai family. Might as well add, that if you live in Dubai and require medical treatment, check us out at www.upandrunningdubai.com !!!!!!!

I have my first post op shower today. I know, slightly disgusting that I had waited so long but when you are fighting to stay alive against morphine you don’t have the energy to wash as well! Nurse C and mum help with all my wires and tubes temporarily disconnected. Feels weird being washed as an adult. Sitting there naked in front of a stranger, so weak you can't lift a body part to help. I apologized to nurse C because I'm sure she would rather be doing anything other than wash me right now. She reassures me she has seen worse- thank god for the cancer diet!

Dr K, my ob/gyn, visits me today. Very kind as I am not under her care at this hospital. She looks concerned and nurse C says she got quite emotional outside my room. So nice to realize people actually care about you. She is obviously concerned that the chemo may affect my fertility further. As colon cancer is most common in a slightly older population there has not been much research into how its treatment may affect fertility. She is going to look into it for me with a possible suggestion of harvesting an embryo. All depends on timing. At the end of the day I just have to be alive. Can't delay chemo just to save an egg- no good if I'm not around to use that egg. Putting this to the back of my mind but feeling positive that we will just adopt if that’s the way things go. Plenty of poor babies out there that need love.

After 14 more farts (!) I hear the good news that my tube can come out and I can start to drink. Nurse C is to do the procedure and I explain how neurotic I am and need to know every small detail. She is honest and it was unpleasant. Painful at the same time as making you feel like your stomach is being pulled through your nose . However, all over in 5 seconds. Lie quietly for an hour letting the nausea pass- do not have the energy to sit up and try to be sick.

Feeling very anxious. My own gut, that has been paralysed for the last 3 days since the op is now left to work for itself. Fingers crossed I drink and continue to pass wind but I have been warned the gut may get lazy and make me vomit. Matt arrives with 'pooh' the camel, a soft toy present for me to squeeze to bring me luck with my bowel activity.

Dr S is thrilled with my progress and says I am allowed soft food from tomorrow. All I can think of is mashed potato! He tells me all being well I can go home tomorrow after eating but I panic and ask to stay in another day! I have also noticed that mum gets dolled up every time we are expecting his visit!

Feel up to watching TV tonight which is positive. Still don't feel normal and it feels like groundhog day but I have achieved a lot today so must be getting better.

Day 8-Friday

Feeling better today. Get up early and have a shower. Just me and mum this time but she has to help me shave! Decide to get walking early to encourage my bowel activity and we bump into Matt as he is arriving. From the smile on his face I can tell he is glad to see me being more 'normal'.

And then I do my first poo! 'Pooh' the camel obviously did the trick! So scared and such a weird feeling but a good sign my body's recovering. Poor mum has to wipe my bum as I can't move my upper body in any direction without pain! Takes me an hour to recover after this ordeal- feels like I have run a marathon!

Dr S does his rounds and is very insistent I am recovering well and home tomorrow. I will see him in 4-5 days for the staples to come out. Now I'm hoping staples don't affect me the same way stitches do. I hate stitches- my biggest fear. In fact when my grandmother was alive and I was still a physio student I had a rather embarrassing experience. My grandmother had fallen and cut her head requiring stitches. I had the job of taking her to the doctors and holding her hand as they were removed. My 80 year old grandmother was lying there calmly, happily boasting about her grand daughter who was training at a top London medical school and who had watched operations to the doctor and the nurse. I took one look at the stitches (that had been covered until that stage) and fainted! It ended with me being looked after and having to get a cab home!

Matt has printed out messages from friends and family and it is lovely to read these. I am overwhelmed by the support and love we are receiving.

Dinner arrives and I have never tasted potatoes so good! I am chewing every mouthful to mush to try to help my gut and anxiety levels are high.

Still don't want to talk about cancer.

Day 9- Saturday
The day I never thought would come- discharge day!

Give the nurses and doctors cards and chocolates. They seem shocked but this is the norm in the UK. Difficult to write the cards. What do you say to the person who has saved your life? Feel emotional but weirdly still no tears.

Don't really want to go home. Worried what will happen if I become ill again. Also relying heavily on this amazing multi-functional bed that does the getting up for me! Once I leave this room my life is real again. Not sure I can handle that. Would love to stay locked up in here and pretend everything is fine.

I am leaving this hospital a statistic. If 1 in 3 of us will get cancer at some stage then I've done someone a favour! Taken a hit for the team!