Papa Smurf

 

So, the next step on this unplanned journey is a sentinel node biopsy.

Blue dye will be injected at the site of the original tumour. Ouch!!!

Apparently, this will make its way to the lymph nodes in the groin and by following the route it takes the doctor can identify the sentinel nodes, i.e. the node on each side which is reached first by the dye and would therefore be the first to be reached by any cancer spread. These nodes will be removed and tested. If cancer free it can be assumed that the disease has not spread. Simples!

If only.

As my original tumour was small it was not anticipated that any further cancer would be found, but as it was aggressive this procedure is a standard precautionary measure The operation should take place in about 3 months’ time. Yes, this would be looming over me for a while but I took encouragement from the lack of urgency

We had a long-planned city break planned within this period – no reason not to go, I feel well and will be back in good time.

Whilst many NHS appointments seem to be postponed and delayed, not this one. I receive the call whilst in the airport departures lounge, could I go in tomorrow for the pre op?

It was possible to push things back a little, the pre op could take place the day after we returned and the op would be the week after. It had always felt as if it was in the future but suddenly felt more real. Everything should be OK but I couldn’t help but think it might not be.

At the last minute the op was cancelled and rescheduled a week later. In the grand scheme of things not too bad, and at least I had a new date but it still really messes with your head

So, 3 days before Christmas I am at the hospital first thing in the morning.

Part one – injecting dye into the end of my knob – to be fair, it was done with respect, dignity and didn’t really hurt, although the thought of it did.

Then sit and wait whilst it works through sufficiently for the sentinel nodes to be identified.

The blue dye may play a part in saving my life, but in the meantime had the side effect of turning my knob blue!

My youngest (for context, 27 years old) called me Papa Smurf!

The operation itself was straightforward, but after waiting around for much of the day nil by mouth I was just glad to get it over with. I was more concerned about having something to eat than I was about the results!

Another downside of having the sentinel node surgery a couple of days before Christmas is a longer wait for the results, has the bloody cancer spread or not? It is easy to say “what will be will be” and to a large extent that was how I felt but the negative thoughts just land in your head uninvited. As I helped myself to more sprouts (weird I know!) at the Christmas dinner table I suddenly thought – will this be my last family Christmas dinner?

A few meals out with great friends over the Christmas period were great but again the doubts – will we be doing this next year?

Physically I felt Ok, as long as I didn’t do anything stupid. An upside (or downside) to the surgery just before Christmas – I got out of the usual intense cleaning of the house, sorting rooms for guests etc. etc. whilst Mrs B spent days cooking and preparing a Christmas feast which would warrant a Master Chef final place!

In reality it actually pissed me off to be out of action and to have to watch others doing extra. No way on this earth though was Mrs B not going to host Christmas. Never before have I desperately wanted to get on my hands and knees and clean the skirting boards behind the sofas as I usually did, even though no one ever checked!

Back to feeling Ok, that lasted until Boxing Day when the swelling started, on both sides of the groin around the incisions. You could almost see the egg-shaped lumps grow from sparrow sized eggs, to chicken and then bloody ostrich- sized (well they felt like it). They are called lymphoceles and apparently normal (to an extent!) but sometimes need draining. What is normal, what is not? I wish somebody had told me. Google is actually useless, information and advice varied from “give it a week or two, it will reduce” through to “dial 999”

The left side was definitely bigger and I’m verging on obsessive, constantly feeling it through my pockets, is it growing, is it reducing, is it the same? Should I try to see a doctor, should I wait for my scheduled check-up appointment – just over a week?

The medical profession strongly advise against Dr Google but I really wish they would give you more information up front, tell you what might happen etc. I guess they are busy!

8^th January is results day, nearly there and they will look at this mountain range emerging from my groin.

Then, it gets cancelled, Junior Doctors are on strike so the department will be under extra pressure. FFS! I agreed with their cause, but on my results day? Yes, I know, in the grand scheme of things, it is only results, not treatment that is delayed. Still messes with your head though.

I rang up and asked if I could be given my results over the ‘phone instead. I’m a big boy and if it is not good I can handle it, uncertainty is 100% harder to deal with than difficult news. And if it is good news, then why make us wait? Nobody could give me a definitive yes or no but then I get a call – my appointment is back on! One of the consultants will do appointments for 3 of them.

Que, overthinking again! Have I been included because it is bad news and they need to make plans for what is next, are they prioritising these appointments. Or have I been included because it is good news, because I can be in and out in 2 minutes and they can get through as many as possible? No point in trying to figure it out but I try anyway. I’m just a fan of clarity.

So, 8^th January comes round, this time Mrs B is coming with me, her choice as we are expecting results. Unsurprisingly the clinic is running late, so nearly 3 hours it is in the waiting room watching back-to-back Bargain Hunt or something of that ilk. How many bloody antiques shows does one country need on TV? At least having Mrs B with me means I can go for a piss without fear of missing my name being called. The number of times I have been sat in hospital waiting rooms for hours, desperate to go!

We get in and it is my surgeon we are seeing – he is just too happy but I guess that is better than being a miserable sod!

The results are not back!

What?

Is that not why I am here?

I don’t care if they are bad, I just want to know what is what and then I can deal with it, make a plan.

My disappointment is clear, he says he’ll get someone to make a call. In the meantime, he’ll take a look at the incisions from the sentinel nodes operation. I tell him I’m not happy with the size of the swellings! He agrees! If I am in agreement, they will drain it he says.

What, now? Here?

Yes, now, here.

So, he inserts something with a tube, a nurse holds the other end and a cardboard sick bowl to collect the gunk. The doctor starts manipulating my groin to encourage the crap out of the tube. Oh, the dignity!

Still uber happy and smiley he provides a running commentary, describing the volume, the colour and so on. I’m not bothered, I happily take a look. The relief starts to kick in.

A curtain has been pulled over “for my dignity” – it is not as though Mrs B hasn’t seen my knob before! Just as well though – she doesn’t do hospitals really, and definitely not bodily fluids. She can’t see or feel anything but she is the one trying in equal measure not to either faint or vomit!

It will likely fill up again (it did!) but not as much and will eventually reduce (it did)

So back to the chair and the MacMillan nurse has joined us and is stood in the corner. She hasn’t come in because there is no news or good news, has she? I know they are too busy to come in and say hi when everything is all good. I keep my composure.

Results had not been sent through earlier because only 1 side had been confirmed but that side (left) was positive, The bloody cancer had spread into my lymph nodes!

The overwhelming feeling was actually relief! Of course, I had hoped for a negative result but I think I knew. I had been able to feel an enlarged node. Relief that I could move on, do what was needed to be done and hopefully get to the other side of this.

The result for the other side would come through in due course but would not change the plan. I would need surgery to remove all the lymph nodes in the left side, a somewhat messy procedure with significant likely side effects. If the right side was positive (it wasn’t) I would “just” have both sides done at the same time.

Of course, the consultant said, it was my choice whether or not I wanted to go ahead.

What is the alternative?

Almost certain death!