Author Topic: Poo sticks  (Read 27952 times)

Jaded

  • The Codfather
  • Formerly known as Jaded
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #175 on: 21 May, 2021, 03:15:07 pm »
So, recovering after the black lizard. Made more exciting by an evacuation as I was in reception. (A Fire evacuation, silly!)

A chunk removed and two more sessions required over the next few months. Supposedly not serious, but not worry free either. Some more bowel prep to look forward to. I guess thats what comes from COVID delaying things by a year.

I have to say that the fire procedures were poor. But that’s another post.
If you don't like your democracy, vote against it.

hellymedic

  • Just do it!
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #176 on: 21 May, 2021, 04:21:00 pm »
Something called a FIT test coming in the post imminently.

Hoping to find a non-cancerous reason for a collapse two weeks ago, followed by a night in hospital and some dodgy blood results.

FIT is the name for the new-type poo sticks.

Easy to use.

Hope you're clear!

hellymedic

  • Just do it!
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #177 on: 21 May, 2021, 04:26:20 pm »
So, recovering after the black lizard. Made more exciting by an evacuation as I was in reception. (A Fire evacuation, silly!)

A chunk removed and two more sessions required over the next few months. Supposedly not serious, but not worry free either. Some more bowel prep to look forward to. I guess thats what comes from COVID delaying things by a year.

I have to say that the fire procedures were poor. But that’s another post.

Of course it was a fire evacuation! Post black lizard, there's nowt left for owt else!

Hope future scopes are clear and repeated bowel preps don't leave you too (under) fed up!

Feanor

  • It's mostly downhill from here.
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #178 on: 25 June, 2021, 09:48:21 pm »
Prodded by a post in another thread, an update on my situation. This is a copy- paste from elsewhere.

This story begins a few months ago, with the dull thud of a plain envelope hitting the floor below the letterbox. I cannot recall the exact words, just a few phrases that stood out like found poetry. "Abnormal results" "Further investigation".

And so it was that a week ago, I found myself sitting alone in a brightly-lit windowless admissions room, wearing nothing but an open-backed surgical gown.

The room was empty, the walls blank save for a hand sanitiser and a clock. Every so often, the door would open, and some members of the surgical team would come in, and introduce themselves. Each explained the procedure to me again, and each had a sheaf of consent forms which required signing.

It had already been explained to me the range of possible outcomes, which included the possibility of being unable to rejoin my internal plumbing and thus requiring a stoma. The prospect of this was now playing on my mind more than it had previously done, and I had reached a point of almost acceptance. I was coming to the point of considering how I would be able to continue in the things I like to do under these circumstances. I already bore a large ink-mark on my belly, indicating the point where the stoma should be brought out if necessary. The consent form laid this out in stark black and white. I signed the form.

The door opened one final time, and I was beckoned forth. It was time. I was guided down a maze of windowless corridors, till we reached our destination. "Theatre twelve" he said, gesturing towards the door. "How many are there?" I ask. "Seventeen" he says. A curiously prime number for such a regularly shaped and symmetrical building I thought.

The room is brightly-lit, and clean. There is a reassuring hum of modern clinical equipment, and the staff are quietly going about their daily business. I am bidden to sit down and lean forward, to allow an initial injection into my spine. I lay back, and various electrodes attached to monitor my statistics during the procedure. A band is attached to my forehead to monitor my brain activity. "I hope it's sensitive", I say, a dull attempt at humour.

The last thing I noticed as I lay down was that behind all the modern kit, the room itself looked somewhat careworn and shabby, and I wondered how many thousands of others had lain here before me.

I am submerged a short distance below the surface. I can see the forms of people moving about above me, I can hear echos of distant voices although I cannot discern the language. I try hard to swim towards the surface, and after several attempts I just about break the surface. The room comes briefly into view, before fading out again. I am aware of myself, I can feel my own body. I cautiously move my hand down my front, feeling for the worst. But no; just my skin, still bearing the black spot. The sense of relief cannot be described. I stop swimming upwards, and allow myself to sink back a little; I can allow myself to surface in the fullness of time.

I am moved from the recovery room to the ward which will be my home for the next six days, until it is deemed I am hale and hearty enough to return home. In the morning, all tubes and tethers are removed from me, and I am free to move around as I wish. Looking at the others around me in this small ward room, it is clear that I have come out of this rather more unscathed than the others.

By the third day, I have grown restless, and have started straying ever further from the ward. I have found out that there are several oases within the ARI buildings. There is a small art gallery, a rooftop garden, and several small contemplative spaces. I made it my business to find them all.  This quest led me down long narrow empty corridors, and into floors of the building that do not get mentioned in the lifts. I frequently got the impression I was in the subterranean underbelly of the building, not intended public access. From time to time, I would be approached by a kindly member of staff, asking if I was lost. "Lost? No! I may have no idea where I am, but I am not lost." I was fully expecting to escorted back to the ward like a truant urchin reluctantly dragged by the ear back to the classroom.

On the sixth day, the decide they have had enough of me, and I am sent on my way.  Another bullet dodged, for the time being at least. The real recovery begins now.

Mrs Pingu

  • Who ate all the pies? Me
    • Twitter
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #179 on: 25 June, 2021, 10:11:14 pm »
Good news. Heal well sir.
Do not clench. It only makes it worse.

Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #180 on: 25 June, 2021, 10:15:52 pm »
 :thumbsup:    Good news. Recover well.
Not fast & rarely furious

tweeting occasional in(s)anities as andrewxclark

Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #181 on: 25 June, 2021, 10:22:33 pm »
Excellent news. Get well soon.

Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #182 on: 25 June, 2021, 11:00:34 pm »
That’s a really touching description, thank you. I hope your recovery continues to be good.

(Dad has a stomer. But then he nearly died, so it’s inconvenience is relatively slight.)

hellymedic

  • Just do it!
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #183 on: 26 June, 2021, 10:33:51 am »
Get Well Soon!

Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #184 on: 26 June, 2021, 10:58:41 am »

The door opened one final time, and I was beckoned forth. It was time. I was guided down a maze of windowless corridors, till we reached our destination. "Theatre twelve" he said, gesturing towards the door. "How many are there?" I ask. "Seventeen" he says. A curiously prime number for such a regularly shaped and symmetrical building I thought.

Presumably 16 theatres and no number 13?

Glad all is well.

barakta

  • Bastard lovechild of Yomiko Readman and Johnny 5
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #185 on: 26 June, 2021, 12:11:48 pm »
Hoping the rest of your recovery goes well Feanor! Great description, very prosaic.

I am glad you got to avoid a stoma. They're not the end of the world, I know several stoma-owners who still do all sorts of crazy adventures, but no one doubts they're less fun than working excretory systems and take an adjustment period.

Kim

  • Timelord
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #186 on: 26 June, 2021, 01:00:29 pm »
It had already been explained to me the range of possible outcomes, which included the possibility of being unable to rejoin my internal plumbing and thus requiring a stoma. The prospect of this was now playing on my mind more than it had previously done, and I had reached a point of almost acceptance. I was coming to the point of considering how I would be able to continue in the things I like to do under these circumstances.

On that note, there's a good article about cycling with a stoma in a recent edition of Laidback Cyclist:  https://shop.bhpc.org.uk/laidback-cyclist-issue-141


Thanks for the post, and best wishes for the rest of your recovery.

Feanor

  • It's mostly downhill from here.
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #187 on: 30 July, 2021, 07:49:11 pm »
And so it continues...

And so six weeks after escaping from this place, I am once again sitting in a ward at ARI.
This ward has no beds, just rows of seats.
I am here to start my first cycle of chemo.

Two weeks of treatment followed by a week off for good behaviour.
The 3-week cycles will continue till the end of the year, or my body decides it's had enough of it, whichever is the sooner.

I look around at my fellow patients, and think to myself
"I do not belong here"
I am sure each of the others in their turn thinks the same.

5 hours later, it is done.
My arm is tingling with the IV infusion.
I am given enough medication to open a modest pharmacy, and am sent on my way.

The weather has clouded over since the morning

Pingu

  • Put away those fiery biscuits!
  • Mrs Pingu's domestique
    • the Igloo
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #188 on: 30 July, 2021, 08:18:43 pm »
All possible appendages crossed that the drugs do work.

Mrs Pingu

  • Who ate all the pies? Me
    • Twitter
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #189 on: 30 July, 2021, 10:16:09 pm »
Better Living Through Chemistry.
Do not clench. It only makes it worse.

Jaded

  • The Codfather
  • Formerly known as Jaded
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #190 on: 31 July, 2021, 03:13:10 am »
What they said.
If you don't like your democracy, vote against it.

T42

  • Patron saint of the dry joint
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #191 on: 31 July, 2021, 07:47:14 am »
Here's hoping.
But they never got to Carcassonne.

barakta

  • Bastard lovechild of Yomiko Readman and Johnny 5
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #192 on: 31 July, 2021, 12:39:12 pm »
Best of luck with the chemo, may your medics be swift to wrangle the necessary as it goes.

Cudzoziemiec

  • Моя планета голубая, я люблю тебя и обнимаю
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #193 on: 31 July, 2021, 12:46:17 pm »
Hoping the chemo does its job, no more and no less.
Riding a bike through a city is like navigating the collective neural pathways of a vast global mind.

Basil

  • Um....err......oh bugger!
  • Help me!
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #194 on: 31 July, 2021, 01:13:40 pm »
Best wishes Feanor
Admission.  I'm actually not that fussed about cake.

Feanor

  • It's mostly downhill from here.
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #195 on: 21 August, 2021, 09:29:16 pm »
I'm not planning to post about every course of treatment here, but yesterdays made me think a bit

So commences round two, and another visit to ward 310.

There are perhaps 6 patients here, each silently absorbed in their own world of books, kindles, magazines.

Only one has music playing from his phone.
No earphones, we are all subject to it
Tinny renditions of devotional music; I catch phrases from Amazing Grace. He hums somewhat tunelessly along to it.

This grates on me more than it probably should. But it clearly gives him some comfort, and is but a mild irritant to me. I say nothing.

After 30 minutes, he is done and leaves, cheerfully bestowing a benediction upon us.

It is a relief to me
And yet the place seems the poorer for it.

Mrs Pingu

  • Who ate all the pies? Me
    • Twitter
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #196 on: 21 August, 2021, 10:23:15 pm »
A bit surprising that there is no supplied musak on the ward itself (not saying it would be good or bad, just that it's unusual to go somewhere and not have piped musak forced upon you).
Hope the drugs are bearable.
Do not clench. It only makes it worse.

Feanor

  • It's mostly downhill from here.
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #197 on: Yesterday at 08:03:06 pm »
A final update on this...


grateful to have a glass by Ron Lowe, on Flickr

All Clear

It is now 9 months and 7 days since I was first diagnosed with Bowel Cancer.
Today, I have had an end-of-treatment consultation with the oncologist.

These phone appointments are not the best; they are using a hands-free echo chamber, I am on a poor mobile connection, and with a pair of ears that are mostly just painted on.
Often I have to ask for things to be repeated.  However, I was able enough to discern from the jumble of words the phrase 'All Clear'.  I will complete my current course of chemo in the next two days, and then I'm onto routine monitoring.

From now, it's recovery and re-building.
I have some (over) ambitious targets and goals, but those will need to be subject to reality checks.

I have been given the gift of time.
I will use that time.

Mrs Pingu

  • Who ate all the pies? Me
    • Twitter
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #198 on: Yesterday at 08:10:37 pm »
Excellent  :thumbsup:
Do not clench. It only makes it worse.

Basil

  • Um....err......oh bugger!
  • Help me!
Re: Poo sticks
« Reply #199 on: Yesterday at 08:16:34 pm »
That is great news.   I'm very happy to hear this.
Best wishes, matey.
Admission.  I'm actually not that fussed about cake.