Going Under Part 1

Previous posts can be found Part 1, Part 2

The original set of posts can be found on Facebook in this public group.

The day for surgery had arrived. I’d been in a few days before for the pre-op. This is a simple set of questions to make sure you don’t swallow false teeth, are allergic to anything, and are in good health. You fill out the forms, sit with a nurse whilst she takes blood, heart rate and blood pressure, then your good to go. She gave me some shower gel to use to clear my body of as many germs as possible to prevent against MRSA.
The day before I went in I started my fast. I ate for the last time at 6PM, and drank water just before bed.
On the 7th December I went in and waited. You get put in a holding pattern where the surgeon visits you prior to his theatre sessions, you get briefed by the assisting consultant, the anesthetist comes and says hi, and they all ask you for the same information that you gave at the pre-op. Slightly frustrating but it helped take my mind of the inevitable. Claire was with me to start with, and i’d given Kelly a big hug as I sent him off to pre-school that morning, but now it was getting real and I was pretty scared.
There had been a slight emergency and the surgeon got caught up in theatre which meant I had to wait longer than expected, but at around 11AM they sent Claire home, and I got into my robe and compression socks. You go into a single sex room and wait some more. It wasn’t long until I was collected by the nurse and off we went to see the anesthetist. I got on the bed, and the room is full of activity. There are doors going through to the theatre which is full of more people all in gowns and gloves getting ready for action.
It’s all pretty daunting. I’ve got some felt tip pen on my neck to make sure they operate on the correct side, as well as frequent checks of my wrist band to ensure they have the correct person and didn’t get me muddled up with someone else in the corridor.
Finally we’re off. A nurse fits a cannula into my wrist so they can administer the anesthetic amongst other things. My breathing was now super fast and struggling to keep myself calm so out came the gas and air.
It was at this point my anesthetist showed some character. “come on, be a man, what’s wrong with you, you big girl”.
This snapped me out of my self pity and fear for a few minutes and although she was a bit brutal, it was just what I needed. I sucked away on the gas and air for a minute and then the anesthetic hit me. I have no memory of going under, it just happened….
and then I awoke.
4 1/2 hours later laying in the recovery room. Recovery in hospitals has to be one of the worst places to be. Theater isn’t great ofcourse but at least the general public is asleep. In recovery, your sitting with all sorts of folk in various post surgery conditions. Not pleasant.
I awoke freezing cold, there was a draft coming in behind me and the pain in my neck was pretty bad. I was thirsty and very hungry. It was then that I felt the pipe. I had a thick clear plastic pipe coming out of my neck with blood coming out of it going into a clear bag on the side of my bed. Nice.
I asked for a drink and a blanket immediately solving two areas of discomfort.
I found hospital easier to deal with as I broke it all down into individual issues that one by one I dealt with. Already I felt like I was on the way to recovery, although I had barely even started.
Just as I was coming back to my senses there was a voice
“Hi Glen” — it was the slightly brutal anesthetist again. She wandered over to the side of my bed, lent over and whispered in my ear. “just before you go and start f*&cking complaining again, take a quick look around” — I did.
“You see that guy there”
She pointed to a bed across from me that had just been wheeled in, there was a large middle-age gentleman trying to climb out of his bed, with 4 nurses holding onto him.
“Diabetes, double amputee. We haven’t administered any morphine yet, he’s in so much pain, he’s trying to walk it off, but his brain hasn’t realised he doesn’t have any legs yet.”
Gulp.
It was a tough sight to behold, I looked to my left, and there was a young girl, maybe 11 or 12, and she was sat up in bed smiling and talking to a nurse. She has so many pipes coming out of her she could barely move. It made me super sad.
It was also the reality check I needed. I had a small cut in my neck, no big deal. Lets not get carried away with it.
They did stop by and offer pain relief which I accepted. I was quickly hit with 3 doses of morphine. Wow. That stuff is pretty awesome. The world become a much easier place to be for quite some time, just shows how dangerous and addictive it can be!
Off I went to the oncology ward. It had 6 beds, 5 other patients, and this was where I stayed for the next 24 hours.
My surgeon, Mr Philpott came and visited later that evening. I asked how it went and although the surgery went perfectly, I could tell that he wasn’t telling me everything, but he wouldn’t say anything until the test results were back.
I spent the following hours in that hospital bed terrified to move, not wanting to accidentally pull out the tube in my neck or arm. The pain came back at around 9pm and they gave me one more hit of morphine, then it was down to paracetamol and codine. A restless night, mainly due to the 5 other elderly gentlemen snoring so loudly and tossing and turning all night long. Hospitals are noisy places at the best of time and I am a light sleeper, so not a great combination.
Finally morning came, nurses did their visits, I was given more pain relief, and they confirmed they had done all they needed and were happy to send me home that day. Around midday a nurse came and took out all the pipework, gave me a plaster for my neck and off I went home.
It’s a very humbling experience sitting on the ward. Lots of people so much worse off than me, all with very serious cancer conditions and now without major bodily organs. I could live without my thyroid so once again, I felt extremely lucky.
I was booked in for the 17th December for a check up and get my test results. Now it was a case of waiting.
Expectations hadn’t really been set for what it would be like when I got out. Everyone reacts slightly differently to having part of their thyroid removed. I spent the first few days recovering from the physical aspects and dealing with the pain. To be honest, that was the easy bit. A week later I was confronted with the chemical imbalance of life without part of my thyroid. The other half of my thyroid was trying to catch-up by working harder, but it took time. Whilst it did that my emotions were all over the place. For me, the primary emotion was rage. I’m not really know for getting angry, or so i’d like to think, so this was a new sensation as well. The only way I could describe it was that I had gone into surgery normal, and come out as the incredible hulk. There was this inner rage that boiled away, I could feel it, and the slightest thing would have me boiling over with rage and worried about what I may do. I found myself quickly walking away from situations scared about what I may do.
1 more week, and this went away, I got it under control, and things started to return to normal.
On the 17th, I went back to see Mr Philpott. He didn’t hang about.
His fears had been proved correct.
I had cancer.
They had found a 3 1/2 cm tumor in my neck. I had a papillary cancer buried in the 6 1/2 cm fatty lump that had grown onto my thyroid. He had clearly seen it when removing the thyroid and attached lump. It is a very hard crystalline structure and feels like cement. It had been sent off and tested to be 100% sure.
It was the news I was expecting, but I was still pretty devastated. It was the week before Christmas, and my worst fears had been confirmed. Luckily I had Claire with me, as he was speaking but I was struggling to listen. He wanted to get me back for more surgery, he needed to remove the rest of my thyroid, and then i’d need radio therapy as advised by an oncologist.
Gulp.
I had to tell my family and friends, I didn’t want to bring them such bad news. A little lost I had to regain my composure.
I was resolute, I must not let this spoil my, or others Christmas. I have this horrid disease, i’d lost a few weeks of my life in hospital and then recovering. I was not going to lose a second more.
I had a very enjoyable Christmas and a fabulous new year. We went to our spiritual home, St Ives in Cornwall, and loved every minute of it.
Life was good, great in-fact. I was going to beat this disease, and not give it a second more of my life than I absolutely had to. I was seizing every day and every opportunity to be happy, and hopefully make those around me happy. It felt like a new me, a better me, and one that I hope to continue to be for the rest of my life.
But first of all, more surgery to get through.

Life Lesson number 5

This ones simple. Carpe Diem. Seize the day. It’s so easy to get obsessed with the little things and lose focus on whats important.
Happiness, yours and those around you.
If you’re not constantly striving to make yourself and those around you more happy than they already are, then your missing out on one of the most important privileges of being alive.

Next chapter https://medium.com/@glenprobinson/breaking-cover-63e29cf3bf46