If I heard it once I must heard it at least 10 times a day “mum don’t do that” or “mum, you shouldn’t do that”. It was everything from hanging washing out, cleaning the fire and generally doing work around the house. Somehow I felt my kids were getting their own back for all the times that I shouted at them. I felt great, a bit lop-sided maybe but I had never felt better. It was probably something to do with the drugs that I was given at the hospital but I had never slept better or eaten better for a long time. Ruth, our elder daughter, arrived on the Tuesday after I got out of hospital on the Friday and so began a catch up time between two sisters. Sarah explained all I couldn’t do, so I had two of them going at me. Having said this I could not have managed without them.
Life began to get back to normal; Bill returned home about a week after me and began his long recovery. Ruth was able to be his nurse as well as mine – and to police his diet, activities, and medicines.
Christmas arrived along with an invasion; we had all the family with us, as planned. Everyone was a great help; doing far more than was even needed. We even managed to have a New Year’s party at the house. During the week between Christmas and New Year Bill, Ruth and myself went to the hairdresser’s to choose a wig; it was recommended that I get one while I still had my hair so they could see what my style looked like. I was entitled to a free one within a certain price. I tried on the “free one” and immediately could see why they were giving it away. I looked and felt a complete idiot. That again was where I had to blink back the tears as it came home to me what was going to happen within a very short time. I finally got a wig, not great but not too bad.
They allowed me time to enjoy a family Christmas and then I started chemo on the 5th January; it was much better than I thought it would be. The staff was great; all trying to speak English. One even explaining that one of the chemicals went into me red in colour and it came out red in colour; you can guess where. They also told me all the stuff that I shouldn’t eat, basically anything that isn’t cooked or you can take the skin off. No salad, no apples and even more no strawberries or sushi. I felt good and only complained when I had to wear a mask to go shopping or meet a lot of people. It wasn’t me who was the problem but them, just in case they had a cold or anything like that. I could feel my immunity lowering as I got more and more tired. The first week between treatments was fine it was the second week that I felt really tired but I just rested more. I guess I am just too awkward to let it affect me too much. I can honestly say that I had a couple of days when I felt down and that was because I was tired.
OK that is the run up to the regular blog which will hopefully be more up to date if not more interesting. After my first chemo session 5 January, I have three weeks for it to take effect. For the first week it kills my immune system, for the second week it kills the cancer and for the third week my body recovers – ready to start again. Sit back and enjoy and if it helps, great, please feel free to contact me; either through my blog or though my email which is tinamasonaguda@gmail.com
Bill's View
Recovering from my operation was less fun than a week in Blackpool (a well-known British music-hall joke says that the first prize in a competition is a week in Blackpool; the second prize is two weeks!). In truth, it was totally traumatic. I was again in an ICU, with an extremely limited view of the world around me, surrounded by patients who had been through cardio-thoracic surgery (the posh name for having your chest demolished so that they can get at your heart). There were monitors and machines everywhere – it looked like something from a science fiction film. During the day it was fine, but night was a nightmare. You can imagine that these procedures generate more pain than our bodies can stand and so a large part of the after-care is concerned with pain reduction. I have no idea what drugs they pumped into me through the several drips and catheters, but I am sure that it was a pretty sophisticated mixture and would probably be illegal if you bought it on the street!
During the first nights I kept waking up to electronic sounds and flashing lights, which I later realized were the alarms of the many different machines . In my diminished state of consciousness I came to believe that I was in a room where someone was playing on those brightly coloured old pinball machines with the flashing lights, flippers and bumpers. I later found out that some of the alarms were my own – I had suffered two infections which had blown my temperature sky-high and my heart had, for some reason, reversed its rhythm – probably out of protest at the surgeons mucking around with it!
On her way home from 'her' hospital, Tina came in to see me. At the time I was in the process of being moved from the ICU to the ward. Somehow, in the process, something went wrong and I appear to have had a minor stroke. I was completely out of it for two hours - so they tell me. When I came around, I was back on a trolley and Tina was there beside me. I felt worse than at any time in my life - Tina had struggled from her own hospital bed to walk into a hugely tense situation like that. I really believed that there was a serious danger that I was not going to survive and was so sad that I would not be there to help Tina with her long treatment. I burst into tears and cried myself to sleep.
The next day arrived and I was still alive. Various different experts came to see me to try to understand what had happened and whether my brain was still working (actually it hadn't worked for years, so I couldn't imagine why they thought it would now!). Gradually I recovered sufficiently that I was released into the care of my family a few days later.
