Bulletin Number 3 ~ Panda Eyes (The Biopsy)

Well, the result of the MRI wasn’t great. There are 'tissue abnormalities in the prostate' and they want to carry out a biopsy under general anaesthetic. Strange kind of ‘floaty' feeling right now. As ever, plenty to be mindful of, and after the biopsy, we’ll see what’s next….

Two black eyes, surgical compression stockings, many and various unpleasantnesses while thankfully I was unconscious…. later, I realise the biopsy operation is done. "Take a look at yourself in the lake and you'll see!" my wife joshingly says. She's not wrong. I'm not a swan.... I'm a panda!

Very early start yesterday at the Hospital, arriving and leaving in total darkness and when staff weren't calling me Mr Ever (as in never) lee, they resorted to calling me Mr. Colin. Got seen and questioned by everyone from the theatre admissions clerk to the consultant surgeon. Also interviewed by an anaesthetist ~ (well two actually, because of a mix up! A profusion of confusion). And then finally I was left to sit it out in a waiting area consisting of a circle of sleepy men in various stages of scruffy undress and overnight bags, to watch the shopping channel on tv with no subtitles. No wonder they were all dozing! I thought I’d do the same.

And then.... coming weirdly from behind a thin screen, there was lots ~ and I do mean lots ~ of very raucous laughter. At first I thought it must be staff, but it turned out to be women patients who, like us, were all there to have an operation of one sort or another. I don't know if they had been given their pre-op medication already but they were definitely having a great party! At one point I heard one of them exclaim, "Let's go round and get them talking", referring to us men. The men squirmed and groaned in dismay and the women ~ some of whom were peeking through a gap in the screen ~ fell about laughing uproariously! You can't beat a good old Pompey laugh!!

Finally after a two and a half hour wait from 7-9.30am it was my turn for the theatrics. The surgeon had promised to show me the MRI scan which I had not seen yet (nor had he) and he started to go over this with me while I was being wired up and pinned down by the anaesthetist and theatre nurse. The surgeon with the registrar was situated virtually behind me, so lying on the operating table, I had to lift myself up on my elbows and crane my neck around to see. At which point the nurse would shove me back down! Anyway, I did see the two shadows that he said they would be aiming for and we had a chat (or rather a shout across the room) about sizes of prostates and bladders….  The anaesthetist then asked me what operation I thought I was going to have…. bit of an odd question.  "Who knows?" I replied with a smile... I didn't really care at this point, and let them get on with it.
In recovery, I was chillin' ~ I mean I was cold ~ and the semi-detached nurse from Spain very kindly got me a hot blanket and the anaesthetist dropped by and said, "Back to normal then?!” “Err, what's normal?!" I replied, equally cheerily. He seemed happy, so I was rapidly whisked away along endless corridors of speeding light…. like in 2001 the movie.

On the ward, where I thought I was going to get something to eat (I hadn't had anything for 16 hours and was feeling a bit peckish)  I was offered a cup of tea and a biscuit. Actually, as a matter of fact it was all kicking off at this point, and the staff were very busy attending to people whose recovery wasn't quite as 'normal' as mine ~ they were flaking out all around me and there weren't even any laughing women to lighten the mood. It was a bit of a carry on, and when a nurse held a digital thermometer up to a man’s head and about the reading said, “This can’t be right, can it?!” Sister replied wearily, “I think that’s room temperature!” It was surreal.

To get my discharge I had to, yes, you guessed it.... wait. I was a bit confused when a nurse asked me, "What's your lift called?" "What lift, I haven't got a lift!” I said stupidly. She meant my wife, who was coming to collect me. She came and yes you guessed it, we waited.... This time it was for the medication to be made up in the pharmacy. We waited and waited. We even offered to go and get the stuff, but procedure had to be followed. In the end, it turned out that although the computer said the meds were  'in preparation', in fact they had been prepared and waiting for collection a long time ago.

Much later, slowly recovering at home the following day (today) I read the small print and a medical research paper about one of the tablets I was due to start taking. Lucky I did, because I could have ended up with a floppy iris. No really! Who wants a floppy iris? This tablet is contra-indicated for anyone ~ like me ~ with a cataract or other ophthalmic conditions. So I won't take these, unless.... hang on.... let's have a read.... maybe they can cure panda eyes!
 
Despite all the hilarity, the NHS is doing its very best to sort me out and I’m really grateful for all their fine care. There is still a shadow (or two) of doubt hanging over me, as it were, to be understood and discussed and hopefully I will find out more in the next few days. Finally, as each moment unfolds and Father Christmas packs his presents and plots a course on his santanav.... be kind to yourself and one another. 

Here’s to ‘Not Yet’ and 'Happy Continuation Day'!!