Saturday, 25 August 2012

Admission Day

So I guess the first thing is to say is that I have had the op and that I arrived home today safe and sound. So over the next week or so I will gradually translate the diary that we have written whilst in hospital at Basingstoke and North Hampshire hospital into blog posts and bring you all up to date. So plenty of posts coming your way!
So take a step back a couple of weeks to admission day.......

Sunday, August 12th
Admission to Basingstoke MOAS II -2 Days...
 After a poor night’s sleep we awoke to the sound of thunder rumbling away in the distance. The storm crept slowly closer on a slow summer breeze the air was thick and clammy. We all gradually emerged from our beds and made our way to the kitchen for breakfast or to the bathroom to freshen up. Suddenly there was a blinding flash of lightning and almost immediately an explosion of thunder so close that you could almost feel the sonic blast of the air particles being super heated to thousands of degrees in a fraction of a second. The girls and Joyce all squealed in fright. That was as close as they get without getting struck. Car and house alarms wailed. The gods were angry today!
 After a short burst of torrential rain the storm eased it way past, thunder rolling around the skies in the distance slowly growing quieter as it crept away. And then if by magic the clouds parted and we were again bathed in warm morning summer sunshine. It was as if Mother Nature was showing us that after every big scary storm the sun does eventually shine again....

We packed our final belongings and before we knew it Mum and Dad were here ready to take us to Basingstoke. Now for the bit I hated the most; saying goodbye to the girls. Today they seemed to be dealing with things well and I think the tears we had at bedtime the night before helped to get things off our chests and to make us all that little bit stronger. The girls were great; we all held each other tight in a family hug for a while and said our goodbyes. Tracey and I fought back the tears. We then said goodbye to Joyce before heading out to the car. We pulled away and waved; both Tracey and I crumbled at this point and cried quietly in the back of the car.

 The journey to Basingstoke (now a well trodden path) was uneventful and even the weather behaved itself reasonably well. We arrived at the Hospital and went first to the reception desk to pick up the keys to both Tracey and Mum’s room. We took in their bags and got them settled before heading up to C2 ward to check in.

 I was shown to my room for the next day or so prior to the op; room 5 a large airy room with a shared bathroom. I dropped off my bags and as with my last stay was advised that they didn’t need to see me until after two and that I was free to have a wander. Great, an opportunity to head to the canteen and get some lunch. We had roast pork, the last meal of the condemned man! And a top tip for anyone else staying at the hospital. Put the key to your flat on the tray in the canteen and they’ll charge you staff rates and not the full whack.

 We headed back to the ward as agreed and soon met up with Brendan Moran who arrived to get the consent forms filled in. We talked about the operation and contrary to my understanding he advised that there were actually two small areas of PMP found on the CT scan. I asked if he felt that this was a reoccurrence or areas that were missed first time around. He felt that they were a reoccurrence. He also explained that they were in quite a tricky area to get to and that the op was not an easy one. They have to unpick the adhesions and scar tissue from the last operation. He suggested that I may get away without having to have a stoma this time around and that chest drains were also unlikely. He also added that I would probably only be given the HIPEC during the surgery and that this would not be repeated in the days following the op.
 So I signed to consent forms. I have little option do I?
 He bid us farewell and left us in the room. My mood had changed and Tracey picked up on this. I guess reality had hit home. Despite the MOAS the first time around and the HIPEC given in the four days after the op the PMP had returned. Will this happen again after this op? Also there were two areas of reoccurrence and not one. That was a bit of a shock. Plus it was in a difficult area to access. It appears that this operation may not be as straight forward as I first hoped. I now worry about what the future might hold. There are only so many times you can repeat these operations before you run out of bits of anatomy that can be removed.
Deep breath, raise the head and stick out the chest. I have to crack on, I have little option do I?
 We again went wandering this afternoon with the promise to be back on the ward at six and not to eat anything. Kerry, the nurse looking after me met us back at the room and we went through various forms, attached my i.d. wristband and gave me my first cup of Picolax (the drink used to help clear out the bowel)
“Oooh my favourite” I joked. It tasted of pure lemon juice.
My first set of observations were taken and a water sample.
Tracey and Mum were tired so we agreed that they return to their rooms to get settled and ready for bed. I showered and then sat typing up this first blog entry at Basingstoke. I’m trying to hunt down a WIFI connection so I can post it prior to the op. If not then I guess you’ll have to catch up when I get home!
 It’s now 9pm and I’m done. Until tomorrow my friends, it promises to be a busy day......


  1. Options? Sure, you have options. You could give up. You could be a jerk. You could make things tougher on yourself and everyone around you. But instead of that you've opted to be strong and do your best.

    We can't choose everything, but we can choose how we react to what what's thrown at us. Yes, small consolation some times, but it's still something, and it's very important! So don't sell yourself short!

    Can't wait to read the rest of your experience.


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