Goodbye Harry

The 24th March came round, Harry’s last day inside me, eating away at me. The operation is booked for 3 hours in the afternoon so I’m back on nil by mouth. To pass an hour away Steve and I take Molly for a short walk in a local park. Walking was still a struggle but hey just a few hours and it would all be gone.
When will I be able to walk the dog again? Will I survive the operation? Will I wake up with a bag? So many unknowns but one thing was for sure my body will never be the same again after today. How big will the scars be? Will Steve always look at that part of me and think cancer? I just had to go through whatever was coming and deal with scars, bags and whatever else was coming my way as it unfolded, no choice.
Steve took me to the admittance ward, they were ready for me, my gown of shame and tag of terror. Changed and ready Steve was itching to go for a fag, bless him as we were early. It’s like going to an airport on holiday when you know you can’t smoke for hours and panic sets in, just one last fag and then I’ll cope until I get to the other side but sadly for us there was no beach and beer waiting.
Around 1 o’clock Mr Mullerat arrived and had to go through a long list of possible side effects of the operation, including death – lovely.
I was taken down around 2 o’clock saying the briefest of goodbyes to my man as we don’t like to make a fuss about stuff, I think it was just a small kiss an a “see you later” moment.
Then he was gone, fear set in. I’m on my own in the gown of shame with complete strangers who don’t know me and I’m due on! Why would it have to be due today of all days, what if I come on during the surgery, oh the shame. So I’m armed with a sanitary towel which is alien to me now since the age of 13 years old when my dear friend Linda Watson introduced me to tampax on a school holiday in Spain, bless her. I have a plan to pass it to a nurse before surgery and hope for the best.
I walk down corridors following a nurse until I reach the waiting area, alone and wondering what everyone else is up to. How often do we forget people suffering, dying, or being born all around us as life goes on but we are too busy to see it.
I’m put onto a trolley bed and taken into a small room with about 4 nurses in it and all ready to stick cannulars and stuff into me. The anesthetist is a lovely lady and tells me that she is going to make sure I enjoy the trip, I tell another nurse about my period problem and she smiles and just says “I’ll look after your dignity, don’t worry”. In front of me was the two double push through doors where I knew Mr Mullerat would be and his team and then that was it, lights out, gone into a sleep of not sleep, pushed through the double doors to get rid of Harry.

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Married to Steve, I have two children - Rebecca and Richard. Steve has two children, Lauren and Chris. Rebecca lives with us (nurse Rebecca) and my mom Judy also has become nurse and housekeeper but lives in the West Midlands. My son is in the Army and comes home when he can. I am 47, born in 1967 and I was told I had bowel cancer on 22nd Feb 2015 and this blog is my journey through it. I hope it helps you as you were the reason I started it.

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