Before my surgery there was no real time to rest. A meeting with both surgeons and the anaesthetist took place along with an ECG and a heart scan. The anaesthetist was present to ask my permission to use a new method of administering and controlling the anaesthetic which was being trialed, which I had no hesitation in agreeing to.
I still had not told my family about the cancers but I couldn’t put it off any longer. My son and his family live in North Yorkshire so all our contact throughout this period had been on the phone. I arranged to meet Roy in a little pub next to Blackfriars station in London and it was there that I broke the news. His shock was tinged with annoyance that I had not told him earlier but reluctantly accepted my reasoning for this. I had also made up my mind that, other than Pat, I wanted no visitors in hospital before or after my operation. I didn’t want my grandchildren especially to be upset at the sight of me.
The surgery date was set, the 26th July. All my affairs were in order and a letter given to Pat expressing my love for her to which I added a P.S stating that if I survived I would deny all knowledge of the letter. There was nothing left for me to do, it was now in the hands of the surgeons and their teams.
My understanding is that the oesophagus operation took place first (9 hours) through my back, followed by the bowel operation (3 hours) through the front, and both by keyhole surgery. I have heard any number of cancer survivors proclaim that they have ‘beaten’ cancer but I don’t prescribe to that view. Whilst those two surgeons and their teams worked tirelessly to remove the cancers, probably not even taking the time for a tuna and sweetcorn sandwich, what was I doing? I was fast asleep, hardly a worthwhile contribution.
The drama came immediately before the operation in an ante room to the operating theatre. This was the room where the anaesthetic would be administered…. if a vein could be found. There was the problem, and it took several attempts before success was achieved and, I am convinced, a few curses made. Obviously, I was fully conscious at that point and starting to get really concerned. Please don’t abort the operation I prayed; I can’t go through all this again. Minutes later I was oblivious to everything.
I awoke in the HDU (High Dependency Unit) ward and the first face that I saw was Pat’s. I have no idea what I must have looked like but Pat later told me she had counted twelve tubes in me. I never found out what they were all for but I don’t think there was one orifice that didn’t have a tube in it except for my ears. The stoma bag that had been fitted was not apparent to her at that point and would be removed at a later date.
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