Well, that's one thing I won't be doing again ... no matter what anyone says. The money - such as it exists - be it in credit or debit - is now well and truly out of my account and certainly control. At least for the moment it is.
Seriously though, it all went through rather smoothly - (a) I thought and (b) I hope. I am - for my sins - a Gleason 7 (4+3), T2c, M0N0 - at least I was when I last looked. I pray I am no longer. I was told this morning by the surgeon's assistant that all went exactly as expected. The right side only had a small amount of PCa in the transition zone so the nerves were spared on that side. On the left - where the majority lay - (an 11mm lesion) = the surgeon went 'as deep as he could' in order to do his level best to see that a negative margin was maintained. The seminal vesicles but no lymph nodes were removed. I asked. The distinguished 'They' were feeling optimistic.
I came to - not in the recovery room - but being wheeled back into a private room in the private wing of a major London hospital where the surgery had been undertaken. (I was one of the fortunate charity cases under the NHS. Luck of the draw it was.) For a moment or so while still on the move I wondered if this was a fantasy. That I remember. Then when I was back in the room - and a kind nurse was speaking to me - I began to realise that it was indeed completely real. I felt - strange to say - completely normal. I felt as if I could get up and run about. I didn't - still there was no heaviness in my legs. I - and the bed panels - were stunningly controlled. I had read about delirium so I recited Shakespeare's Sonnet 3 and a short speech by George Bernard Shaw which had been made to a class of graduating nurses in Brighton in 1921. I had learned it especially for this purpose. The nurse really liked that one. Thus, I felt I had ticked the box for mental acuity.
I had no problem sleeping - short of being wakened to have blood pressure taken - which, although initially a little low became normal at its next reading - and to have drugs plied in my direction. I politely refused them. The nurse was insistent on the second round; placated by my having a single paracetamol which I really felt was totally unnecessary.
It's funny. I had strained a muscle in my back a week ago last Friday. The pain of that had been easing - but even sitting here now - following the operation - it has totally disappeared. A long way to run for a cure I suppose, but a cure nonetheless. Strange that.
I almost felt a bit guilty today. When the new (male) day-shift nurse finally let me get up I sat in a chair - no problem - and then walked up and down in the room. 'You're a fast walker' he said. 'I am', I said smiling. I started to do some pas de basque ... He laughed. He said he'd never seen anyone do anything like that in such a situation. I really did feel full of beans. I STILL DO sitting here.
Here am I - I have come home, unpacked, and sit writing this note. Short of an awareness of the incisions - all of which look very neat -- and a slight shadow of pain when I turn in a certain direction in my shoulder - I have no other side effects. YET. As I say, I feel a certain amount of guilt. I certainly don't feel fatigued like people so often say they feel. There are 65 stairs up to my flat. I had rehearsed going up a stair at a time - and then resting. I started the first few that way but then just thought it was ridiculous as I felt no different than when I last when down them. I didn't run, no, but I certainly didn't dawdle. For me it was a 'normal gait'. Anyone who didn't know my situation would think nothing was amiss. Indeed my neighbour came up just after me and she said how stunned she was at my appearance after a major operation. I have to confess ... I am somewhat baffled myself.
I was chuffed somewhat. The surgeon's assistant said I was 'in very good shape'. He said that many men - even slim ones - have 'internal fat' ... He said I didn't seem to have any. 'It's obvious' he noted, 'that you take care of yourself'. At the meeting prior to the surgery he showed me a model that had been made of my prostate. I could actually see the cancer in 3D. The cancer was stark white and the remainder of the central prostate was clear, solid plastic. He said that I had a 'short sphincter muscle'. He pointed that out. I ran my finger over it in real time. He said that this was not uncommon. They would just double tighten the suture and that I would have to have the catheter for two weeks rather than one. (I'm happy to have it for a month if it helps in the cause of continence'.) He said it was just one of the factors but he said they had tested it with a saline run twice and it appeared to be entirely tight. Has anyone else had an experience with a 'short sphincter muscle'. It makes such a difference when you can actually can see things on a model of your own body part.
Should I expect fatigue to follow now? As I say I thought I would feel it today - but I don't at all. Any practical advice will be much appreciated.
Think I am going - while working - to have the night bag and its stand housed in a tray under my desk. That way I can concentrate and not unduly worry. I will get up at short intervals - just to check all is well - and to take a little stroll and, thus, keep bits moving in the appropriate direction and function.
Any other useful suggestions from you lovely people - however minor - will be greatly appreciated.
Bless you for your kind consideration.
Edited by member 28 Mar 2024 at 15:46
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