Going home…

I spent a week in hospital being taken care of by a great, attentive, caring and cheerful bunch of nurses and doctors. A total example of the wonderful people who are at the frontline of our fantastic NHS.. I had the odd bad day. My temperature was a roller coaster at times and I was on liquids only for five days. This made things a bit more than frustrating. Dee visited me every day and kept me up to date with home life and gossip. The liquid diet made the bananas and grapes only pay a flying visit. When the cancer was removed it took with it a section of my colon and my rectum. I now had a stoma. Just like Tesco, I have a bag for life! But at least I have a life.

Now some of you may wonder why the title? Well when you have a bag for life you have no control over it. There ain’t no way you can “clench” when you have a stoma. It JUST HAPPENS! So at the most inappropriate moments I can almost guarantee that it will spring to life. Strange bodily noises will emit and a bulge will slowly appear under my shirt. No control at all!

It was whilst I was in hospital that Steve Woods contacted us about doing a photo-documentary on my journey through the healing process to full fitness.

Why should I? Well after the face book page that generated over two hundred comments and such support and kindness maybe it can help somebody. Maybe it will stop one person falling into a pit of pity and show them there is another way. I had had some real depressive moments between diagnosis and the operation but Dee would not let me wallow for long. She kept me active and helped to keep my mind on other things. Now I have a strange sense of humour that tends to find something funny in all things. I had spent all year dieting but only lost weight because of the operation ! Two stone! Maybe they lied about the size of the tumour ( see what I mean).

On March 26th I was deemed fit enough to go home. Steve came and and we chatted about the treatment and how I felt and where I had been physically and mentally the previous week. That’s when it struck me. I could remember instances, conversations and visits but I had difficulty remembering the order they were in. I seemed to be asleep all the time. I could also remember the most vivid and ridiculous dreams! I had been taking Tramadol! A strong opiate painkiller. I had basically begen tripping all week.

Dee arrived and, as you can see from Steves photos we were soon back to our old selves with banter and laughter. We had missed the togetherness that we share. We always say it takes the other to make us whole and my spirits were certainly raised knowing that I would be home with her soon. I look old and knackered in these first photos for two good reasons: I felt old and was knackered!

The walk to the car felt like an escape. Get me home, get me to my chair, to see my Esther, to eat good food and see my faithful hound, Yorick.

Esther had the week arranged to work from home. I could see the worry on her face as I got in. You should never have to hurt your child and worry them like this. Titch, our youngest was there and she too showed concern and worry. Dee was just delighted to have me home and proceeded to fuss over me like never before.

I was sore and stiff, my bag was still an irritant and my head was fuzzy from the drugs, but the warmth and love of my “ladies” was starting to weave its magic. Yorick was nudging me for a cuddle and the kettle was on. All I had to do was get fit again.

Prior to the operation I had worn a fitness watch and had been doing twelve thousand steps a day to get fit. Now I could hardly get out of the front door.

Things soon got back to normal with friends popping round, short dog walks that slowly grew into long walks and from being waited on to starting to cook and make the tea as always. There were still visits to clinics. Forty staples had to be removed from the fifteen inch scar down my belly and the nurse needed to check that the stoma was ok. I knew it was certainly working properly!

Four weeks later and two stone lighter I feel great. I’m getting fitter each day and I can feel the strength returning. The heavy diy is still on hold and will be for a while longer.

Last week came a wee set back. Of to see the surgeon for a follow up that was not as good as we had hoped for. He explained that when the tumour was taken out so was a section of the colon, its blood supply and the lymph nodes attached. The colon section and blood supply were free of cancer cells but out of the twenty four lymph nodes just one showed some cancer cells. Just one. So the treatment was not at an end. I was being referred to an oncologist to discuss the need for chemotherapy. It was needed to “mop up” any cancer cells that had escaped from the tumour. What was needed now was for me to get as fit as possible, once again, prior to the treatment. Longer dog walks and a close eye on my diet.

I am still awaiting my next appointment and being in the hands of others is frustrating and there are times when fear and depression sneak up on me. What if, Becomes a nag. Memories of my mum and loosing her to cancer cloud the thinking. Feelings of injustice. Why me? Then Dee is there. Just talking calmly and logically bringing me back to reality, away from fear and trepidation. She makes me smile and soon has me realising just how lucky I am to have a home, family and marriage that keep me firmly rooted. Life is good and will be long…

 

Where is Dee? I’m ready to go.

I may as well Steve my life story…

 
 

I’ll tell Steve more of my life story…

 

Freedom… Lies that way.

 

She’s here at last.

 

We’re fairly please to see each other.

 

Actually smiling….

 

Nearly ready…

I think this image to some extent, represents how the experience of cancer has felt for me.  Phil is lit in this image and I am in shadow.  The two of us; alone and together. Working toward coping and managing our hopes and feelings, our shock and fear. Finding our determination and belief.  There are other participants of course.  Our daughter, family and friends.  But for me, I battened down the hatches and it was we two.  I think at times… unfairly.

 

Me bossy?….

 

The box.  It keeps him alive. Without the contents; he would die.  The box.  I hate it. I love it.  The box. Like death and taxes, it’s always with us…

 

This is interesting. To some extent, it reflects how I feel… narrowed.  Pinned in to a space that is confined. Small, with narrowness applied to life and dominated by the medical matters. We’re still here, but for a time…. Diminished as free individuals.

 

Getting up he’s a bit doddery…

 

You’d think he’d be able to dress himself by now….

 

But no…. I’m still doing it.

 

All done.

 

Are the grapes worth taking?

 

He’s making a dash for it…

 

He’s off….

 

 

It felt so good to have him back.  That’s my place in the world.  We’ve always said it. Tucked right in that space in his arms.  I fit exactly.   He was made to measure… just for me.  Bliss…

 

Going home.