The operation that didn't happen

It's been an eventful few days. Tuesday started with the pleasant experience of having a microscope pushed through my nostril and into my mouth, to check whether I am ready to have my tracheostomy "capped off", and then removed.

When I say microscope, I don't mean one of those bulky contraptions they have in school science labs for looking at dead woodlice. That would be really painful. This microscope was a specially made piece of medical equipment, designed to penetrate bogies and other nasal obstacles, to give the viewer a clear picture of the patient's nose and throat area.

Anyway, the conclusion was positive: let's get ready to get rid of the trachy - more of which later.

But the excitement didn't end there. I had an appointment to see nice Dr Leung at the Royal London Dental Institute, to have a look at the state of my teeth post-operation and pre-radiotherapy. So Catherine came to the office early, and we took a cab with Helen - one of our favourite nurses - to Whitechapel for the appointment. My first venture beyond the hospital grounds for over five weeks.

The trip there was simple enough, we had a brief wait before Dr Leung looked into the abyss that is my mouth and declared herself reasonably happy with what she saw, although she wants me to attend another time before the radiotherapy starts.

We then sat in the waiting room and waited - which I guess is what waiting rooms are made for. Eventually, our porter appeared, to push me in my wheelchair, with Catherine and Helen dutifully behind, to the Transport waiting room, for our pre-booked taxi. We waited.

At 5pm, the time at which the Transport Section closes, and with no sign of our cab, we were once again collected by a porter and wheeled to - I kid you not - the Departure Lounge.

This area was as chaotic as Gatwick on a Bank Holiday when the ground staff are on strike. There certainly seemed to be more people arriving than departing. Eventually, our cab arrived and took us back on the short trip to Bart's and the safety of the ward. I think that I spent a maximum of 15 minutes with Dr Leung, but the whole trip - to a hospital 4 or 5 miles away - took over 3 hours. Still, why should I complain? I ain't going nowhere.

All the activity and excitement must have tired me out, because I slept soundly on Tuesday night for a full 12 hours. When I awoke on Wednesday morning, I felt fully refreshed and energised: almost euphoric.

All of which changed when I returned from my morning ablutions, to be greeted by a member of the Plastics staff, who told me that they had decided to carry out another operation on my flapping flap. No warning, just straight out of the blue: they had decided to apply some sutures to the thing, although they had considered and rejected the self same operation a week previously.

Stunned, I signed the consent form, and started getting myself mentally prepared for more facial surgery, more pain, more recovery time. Then the frustration and anger kicked in. I took it out on the only person I could: Manny, the MacMillan nurse. I say the only person, because currently being without coherent speech I could hardly complain to anyone verbally. At least I'd got Manny's mobile phone number and could text her, which I did, saying I felt like their laboratory rat.

Full credit to Manny, who arranged for me to meet with Dr Dilkes, the top man in Ear, Nose and Throat, and told me that someone would come over and collect me forthwith.

A porter duly arrived, packed me into a wheelchair, and with Sergei the nurse to accompany me, took me to .... the wrong place. I then sat growing steadily angrier, wrting abusive notes to Sergei, who eventually came to the view that I was probably right, and managed to find the right place.

Finally gaining an audience with Dr Dilkes, I fired off a tirade of frustration - partly through my incomprehensible speaking tube, and partly in illegibly written notes. The main thrust of my argument was that there was no consistency, and two highly respected medical professionals had no coherent treatment plan.

Dr Dilkes' reaction was to overrule the decision of the Plastics Team, and cancel the surgery. He did not consider it necessary at this stage, and as the person with overall responsibility for my case, his will held sway. So one team wanted to operate; the other team didn't. Go figure.

The ever-willing Sergei wheeled me back to the ward, in the company of Catherine, who by this time had arrived to contribute her unique combination of charm and threat to the debate. Sergei proved to be less adept at driving a wheelchair than nursing sick patients, as at one point he hit a kerb and nearly knocked me out of the chair. That would have been the perfect end to a perfect morning.

Things got better from that point onwards. We had an appointment to meet a Dr Sibtain, who's in charge of radiotherapy, and what a lovely man he is! He gently explained the mixture of chemo and radiotherapy I'll be enduring, in a straightforward but sympathetic way, and then left us with his colleague, Shelly, who will coordinate the treatment, to explain in more detail.

Chemo/radio is not going to be a walk in the park. In fact, it's going to entail several weeks of very unpleasant symptoms, but it's a necessary evil if I want to be as sure as I can be that we've defeated the cancer. In any case, I can't start the treatment until the big hole in my chin - which goes all the way into my mouth - has healed. So watch this space.

We then had the customary half-hour wait for a porter before being transported safely back to my bed.

After all that drama, I don't have much to report, other than to gladly let you know that I have now had my tracheostomy tube successfully "capped off", and look forward to removal of the damn thing very soon.

In recognition of the prevarication over the operation-that-never-was, here are 10- songs about indecision, with thanks to Lucy, Emma and Barney for their suggestions:-

1 Baby can I change my mind - Tyrone Davis
2 Making your mind up - Bucks Fizz
3 Mind blowing decisions - Heatwave
4 Year of the decision - The Three Degrees
5 Are you sure - The Staples Singers
6 Baby don't change your mind - Gladys Knight and The Pips
7 Change your mind - The Killers
8 I just don't know what to do with myself - Dusty Springfield
9 Do nothing - The Specials
10 How can I be sure - David Cassidy

Don't touch me!
RP