The Girl With the Colon Tattoo

I'm the Girl with the Colon Tattoo . . .

It was rather a shock when I was told I had an abnormal result following my National Bowel Cancer Screening test.

I've always had a fast transit time. No constipation. No changes in bowel habits. And apart from IBS symptoms that always manifest itself during times of high stress I'd no concerns re my working innards. That was why it was a shock.

I'd had a happy Friday morning playing bridge with friends. Much laughter and a light heart was soon brought down to earth when I found an NHS letter awaiting me at home. I had an appointment at the RD&E hospital on the following Thursday to meet and talk with the Bowel Cancer Screening Specialist Nurse to check I was fit enough for a colonoscopy; GULP.

Regardless of my various aches, pains, palpitations, tension and odd periods of high blood pressure - mainly following the arrival of the letter - I was deemed fit. Even when I was sitting there frightened and anxious my BP was recorded as a 'fine' at 140/86. So I was booked in for 'the procedure' on the following Tuesday afternoon.

To starve from Sunday lunch time. Taking a Senna laxative for Sunday tea followed by 2 other laxatives for Bank Holiday Monday breakfast and again at teatime. Only clear fluids allowed from midday Sunday onwards. It wasn't a pleasant weekend. There are better ways to spend a weekend. I lost count of the number of times I sat on the toilet. about every 30 minutes just passing liquid. I'm sure I was empty after the Senna worked at 1 a.m. The double portion of Picolax had an easy time of it.

I was told that I could have sedation for 'the procedure'. If I had sedation I had to be sure not to do anything for a full 24 hours after. Not to sign any papers (what about my Last Will & Testament?). I would need someone to drive me home from the hospital.

That was a big problem. MyMan has not been able to drive much over the last few weeks. His sudden onset of diabetes meant his eyesight has kept him off the road. Now that his sight is returned to normal his back is in such a bad way I wasn't sure he'd be fit enough to get me home. Friends were on holiday. Or car less. I didn't much like the idea of a taxi. MyMan raised his game and promised to get me there and home again.

I opted to undergo the 'procedure' without sedation. I was told I could use gas and air and if it became too uncomfortable I could change my mind and request a sedative. I knew - and was right -that MyMan once he'd got me there and back home again would more or less collapse in a heap. I couldn't afford to be sedated.

I am happy to say that I managed without any intervention at all. I concentrated on relaxation methods. Painful prods, I told myself were just 'sensations' and nothing to worry about. Turning the corners were the most uncomfortable sensation. Not to mention the amount of air inflating me till I had visions of myself floating away like a big airship. Mrs Blimp.

Polyps were found. Eeach in turn, was cut, caught, removed, cauterised and then a clip or a tattoo applied before moving on to the next polyp. 6 in all; 3 small; 3 large. Overall the procedure lasted about an an hour and quarter. All the air pumped into me started to make me feel nauseous. But after a rest in recovery unit I was given a very welcome cup of tea. And offered toast. By this time I felt I wasn't bothered if I never ate again. But they wanted me to eat one biscuit at least. I forced a digestive down.

On the way home I deposited the cup of tea and digestive biscuit in a layby - outside someone's house. Before we drove on I insisted MyMan wash it away with a bottle of Evian water.

Physio Therapy

It has been a gruelling few weeks (months) since MyMan started on his course of physiotherapy. The 'Back to Fitness' course left him far worse than when he started. Each week he'd go over to Exeter hospital - an hour long journey for a one and a half hour session of relatively easy exercises. With the hour drive home again it meant he'd leave here at 8 a.m and reach home by 11.30. I loved having some time to myself. And it was good that he was becoming independent driving himself again. (Having confidence in the safety of our new car helped. Until Toyota started the massive recall that is . . .)

The whole event would wipe him out for the rest of the week. Just as he'd start to recover he was then facing the next session. Pain levels have increased and his muscles seem to be even weaker. Friends have been shocked to see that he has great difficulty climbing stairs. And his concentration, focus and ability to string more than a few sentences together have deserted him. So far by being quiet and reclusive he has hidden how weak and mentally fragile he has become. To socialise once in a while he's been able to don a mask of 'normality' for a couple of hours. The last few weeks he's been unable to do so. Suddenly everyone is realising the shocking truth. He is not the man they used to know.

Tomorrow (my birthday) he is to go to very early to the hospital once again. This time he is to have steroid injections in the sacroiliac joint(s). Neither of us know what to expect. Our hopes were raised over the last procedure. If this doesn't help he feels unable to continue with any more treatments. He believes that 'enough is enough'.

Swine Flu symptoms

I have at last managed to buy a digital thermometer. So now I will be able able to tell the difference between having a raging fever and/or a hot flush. My very old mercury thermometer broke a couple of years ago. It doesn't feel the same taking a temperature without having to shake down the mercury before and after. Sigh - for the good old days.

Some practical suggestions for keeping healthy, and hints on how to avoid succumbing to a virus such as Swine Flu can be found here.

Symptoms of Swine Flu

Symptoms of Swine Flu? I wonder what they are. Obviously a sore throat and fever.

I went into the surgery this morning to book an appointment with the nurse for a routine blood test in a couple of weeks. The first thing I was asked was did I have a sore throat - "yes, I often have one during summer". It's caused by a post nasal drip due to hay fever.

Did I have a fever? "How would I know with all these hot flushes I keep getting? "

I managed to make an appointment. If I should end up catching swine flu I now know there is no point in calling in to the surgery to see a doctor. The waiting room and all the local chemists have huge notices telling us to stay at home if we have swine flu. Don't go to the surgery.

I thought all us 60+ year olds were supposed to be immune from it. Perhaps I don't 'look' 60.

The Latest Elephant in the Room

As I said in my last post it feels as if there is another elephant in the room. At the moment we no longer worry about dementia or memory problems. Now our worries are centred around whether or not he is about to start another nose bleed. He is not an easy patient. By no means a patient patient. He is frustrated at being kept quiet. Only reading or watching TV. I remind him that if they had a spare bed available they would have kept him on the ENT ward for 7 days complete bed rest. At least here at home he can sit in the lounge to watch TV or amble to the toilet.

This last mad dash over to A&E was a bit stressful. I wasn't my usual level headed and organised wife/carer. I forgot minor little things when I visited. I forgot to take slippers. I failed to leave him with money. I forgot to leave him a pen and notepad. I did remember a comb and to re- charge his shaver. I did put credit on his patientline and show him how to use the system before I left for home. So I wasn't a complete careless carer.

He wants now to be prepared for another urgent dash to the hospital. So we are talking about this "elephant in the room". He has made a list of what he would want if he's kept in overnight. And items he would like if he is in more than one night. We are going to pack a bag and leave it in readiness in the wardrobe. If I'm not at home when he is spirited away by the paramedics then like a boy scout he will be prepared. I can just pick up the bag and follow along once we know if he is to be kept as an inpatient again.

Not Quite to Plan ...

April and May aren't running to the plans I had made. I see that a few posts ago I was promising myself the idea of a quiet relaxing break away at the Woolacombe Bay Hotel. The weeks are galloping by. I'm reminded of John Mortimore's being told by playwright Christopher Fry that the older you get 'breakfast seems to happen every 5 minutes'.

MyMan has been poorly, irritable with life, events and me. I haven't been able to devote much attention to his emotional health needs. I have felt a bit stretched. Over the last few weeks a member of MyMan's family, in Surrey, and also local friends have had health problems. In fact at the moment I don't think I know anyone who is healthy and problem free.

Along with their inevitable hospital appointments/visits for tests, examinations, biopsies, prognsois and plans for treatments and minor surgery; all have entail long phone calls of [what I hope are] empathic support. Or hours taken up assisting with car trips from base to hospital and hospital to base; help with shopping expeditions while they are unable to drive while recovering from surgery. I haven't been doing this alone. Friends have set up an informal rota to assist where and when needed. But along with bridge lessons and the need to try and practice what I learn each week I have been rather stretched and thus unable to post a blog regularly.

The housework has taken on an even lower priority. Dust so thick I would need to shovel it out if anyone came to visit.

Which is why I can't for the life of me understand why I invited friends to join us for lunch today! It seemed a good idea on Friday when I put out the invite. This then involved yet another trip to Waitrose on my way home. I planned a traditional roast as I thought the forecast for Sunday was 'chilly and wet'. How wrong can the Met Office be? Or did I not listen properly. Maybe it was last weekend's forecast I had in mind! As I said, time flies by. Whatever, I've laboured over a roast on the hottest day of the summer, so far.

I still felt very stiff yesterday. I couldn't do all I wanted to as I was moving more slowly than usual. My time was spent outdoors sorting out pot plants, new plant acquisitions and containers. I didn't shovel dust anywhere. I had to scoot around a bit this morning. Everywhere received a lick and a promise. With the French doors and windows flung wide open to catch the cooling breezes, there is every possibility my friends thought the dust had just blown in over the last few hours.

Now being a glutton for punishment I have invited another couple over for supper on Friday. This time I will clean and tidy properly on Thursday. I will remove the bags of compost and empty plant containers from the patio chairs and table so that we are able to drink our aperitif outdoors. I will prepare a simple onepot dish and have salad. In which case it will probably be chilly and wet. I will inform the Met Office so they can put out an accurate forecast.

Final Dental Hurdle

I'm still coughing like a regular smoking trooper. MyMan claims he's had the same virus but minus the cold and he escaped the cough as well. In which case he has been lucky for once. Although I still feel washed out like a limp dishcloth I've tried to get back into the normal routine i.e. cooking, shopping, cleaning, nurturing. No, that last one would be a lie. I still feel a bit detached and couldn't CareLess. Tomorrow MyMan visits the dentist to have the last of 2 diseased teeth extracted. I just hope the dentist is right when he says that he should notice the difference in his general health.

I've started to worry about his lack of memory/concentration again. [MyMan's, not the dentist's] Can it only be due to weariness and depression? I still can't help but worry sometimes that he appears as if he is on the verge of Old Timer's Disease. He has had severe back spasms recently. I couldn't help but notice that he would keep bending to raise the lid of the kitchen bin rather than using the foot pedal. I asked if his leg/foot was hurting. No - it turned out the he had 'forgotten' about the pedal. Sometimes we also have great difficulty communicating on some simple issue. It's as if he can't understand what I am saying or has forgotten how to reply. When he is like this he gets increasingly irritated and fractious.

I'll have to go to see the doctor soon. I need an annual check. I've not had one for 3 years. I'll voice some of my worries when I see him.

A Week Is A Long Time in ...

They say a week is a long time in politics. Well a week is a long time here at home in east Devon too. In fact I was surprised to find that I'd last posted on this blog 2 weeks ago. so much has happened. Not much of it is good.

It's not been an easy two weeks. Following the visit to the dentist MyMan was told that he needs several teeth out. They are rotten and likely to lead to an abscess in due course. They will affect his 'well being'. I didn't ask him if the dentist managed to say this expression with a straight face. The last thing we want is his 'well being' being affected to adverse effect. Perish the thought. MyMan is suspicious. He can't believe that these teeth which were deemed all right 8 months ago by a NHS dentist are now deemed rotten under a private dentist. I am trying to encourage him that if they should come out they need to come out. I'm under the impression that if there is any life left in them they are worth a gold mine to a private dentist. He could try and work on them for months to preserve them with capping, drilling and filling and a bit of this and that. But once removed they are worthless. Therefore I believe the dentist. They'll have to come out.