Cutting A Bit Off

 

                                                      

Nothing really to report about the pre-op. Blood pressure, weight, height, ECG, blood test and so on. No one can tell me about the upcoming surgery, it is not their remit – understandable.

It does feel surreal thought to be at The Christie Cancer hospital. I’ve heard about it, I’ve known people who have been treated there but none of that prepares you for walking through the door as a cancer patient, even if only for a few standard tests to start with.

I don’t know what I expected but what I found was a calm and uplifting place, with friendly, professional and efficient staff, clearly empathetic and conscious of patient’s anxieties but not making a big thing about it.

For the most part, the next week I was just pleased that it was happening so quickly. I genuinely thought, the sooner I get this done, the sooner life returns to normal. From time to time I did break out in a sweat, having a sudden panic that the speed of the whole thing was somehow sinister and indicative of something worse.

Surgery day arrived, a very early start, I would be first in being diabetic. Not being allowed breakfast bothered me more than having a bit of my penis cut out! Not normal – me!!

The surgeon greeted me, the same one I had met the week before for my initial consultation. He explained the procedure again, a circumcision and a partial glansectomy – he would just cut out the tumour, there was no need, he thought, to remove any more! He would pull some skin up from elsewhere to cover the gap and it should look fairly normal. He reiterated that he thought this had been discovered early and expected me to be OK afterwards. If I felt fine there was no reason why I shouldn’t go on holiday in a few weeks’ time – but no swimming and no sex!

I thought I could cope with this.

Bottle green compression socks manipulated on and standard hospital gown in place and I’m ready.

I wake up in a recovery room in time for the lunchtime sandwich round – I am ravenous. I don’t throw up my corned beef (unlike after a previous operation!) and I have a successful pee so I am allowed home at 2pm! I’ve been out of the house longer just queueing up to buy a stamp!

I am assured all went to plan, a good margin was achieved around the tumour – I just need to take things easy and be careful. Enjoy my holiday the doctor says and he will see me for a check up when I get back.

Nothing hurts, I wonder if that will kick in later although I’m only given paracetamol. Either significant pain is not anticipated, or I’m going to be awake all night in agony. I’ve never had a chuck of my dick cut out before – I don’t know what it I supposed to feel like.

It is entirely covered by bandages with a small gap to allow me to pee. It looks about a thick as a marrow – I have no way of knowing how much is swelling and how much is dressings. I have to leave it all in place for 48 hours then I can remove it all myself! That sounds fun. Does my wife want to help me? That will be a “No bloody way!”

No baths, no swimming, no sex for 6 months. OK! So why on earth do I wake up next morning with the hardest erection ever? Be careful what you wish for – that was a bit weird and uncomfortable. I was worried about pulling stitches out or causing some other damage. There was no sign of blood coming through the bandages so I jut waited the 48 hours, washed my hands, took a deep breath and started to remove the dressings.

Yes, there was a fair amount of blood, but it wasn’t fresh, nothing a few antiseptic wipes couldn’t deal with. The stitches all the way around were somewhat disconcerting but not painful – apparently, they would fall out on their own over the next few week – they did. The skin over the glans formed a thin white covering which periodically cane away like a snake skin – again weird but not painful and all back to normal in a few weeks.

The surgeon had done a great job of covering up the “hole”, if you didn’t know, then you wouldn’t know – not that anyone would be in that position. Within a few weeks everything feels normal, fully functional in every aspect. A few weeks of anxiety, a few days out of work but in the grand scheme of things I consider myself very lucky. I can’t even begin to comprehend what those who end up with penile amputations experience but I think about them and am very grateful.

And the NHS, after previous negative experiences, I was surprised by the amazing service, from every perspective.

A few weeks later I am back at the hospital for a check-up. Pants down and an examination of the surgical site. All looks OK. It is a different doctor who comments on what an excellent job has been done.

I take a seat and he pulls a folder in front of him which he doesn’t open. Firstly, he tells me that tests on the tumour confirmed what I think we all knew, that the tissue was indeed cancerous. No surprise there.

But then he does catch me completely unaware. The cancer is Grade 3 aggressive. My journey is not over!