Well here I am, updating after the ‘event’ as promised. Maybe a bit muddled as I am shattered, emotionally and physically. Yes, it was David who had the surgery but I feel as though I was there with him. I feel that although the cancer with a little ‘c’ was removed from him, something huge has been removed from me. Not sure what, can’t actually put my finger on it but something has happened to my psychological being. Relief I suppose could be part of it, not sure but I feel different.
The build up to the day was hectic, horrible and yet a kind of excitement hit us both. Just wanted it gone I suppose. We have known since last August that the cancer had to be taken out, we were becoming impatient and a bit scared that time was risking it spreading, but now assured, as it is so slow-growing, the time we waited was okay. We travelled down to Cardiff and everything was in place ‘here on the farm’ and we felt confident that the young man house sitting would cope. The hotel was comfortable, not the kind of place we would choose to holiday but I wanted something a little bit more ‘homely’ to be able to relax. We had a meal and went back to the room. That’s when I noticed a change in my husband, something I had never seen in his face. He is strong, emotionally and physically. He is pragmatic and his favourite saying is, ‘we are where we are’. But that night I knew he wasn’t where he wanted to be, neither of us were. He held onto me as we lay on the bed and ‘watched’ TV. Don’t know what was on and I don’t suppose he does. David has never been ill, never had an anesthetic or surgery since he was a baby. I had asked him if he was scared and he always assured me that he wasn’t. We made ready for bed in silence and them settled down to try to sleep. He placed his arms around me and held on tight. He always says how much he loves me but that night it was different. Almost desperate that I understood. We cuddled and stayed locked in the comfort of each other.
I managed about 2 hours sleep and I don’t think David slept much more and then the day we had dreaded was here.
On arrival at the hospital, he was calm. They took him onto the ward at around 9am and he came out several times to see me during the morning. Each time asking if I was okay and telling me he loved me. He was reassuring me and I tried to act normal but had forgotten how, nothing was ‘normal’. The consultant came in and took my man into the ward. After a few minutes he returned saying he was going now, to be prepped. He went but came back a few minutes later and kissed me and told me how much he loved me and I told him I wouldn’t leave the hospital and would be there when he came round. He gave me the strangest smile and went.
The rest of the day is a blur. My daughter arrived around 12 noon, we went for lunch but I couldn’t eat. We then went back to the day room for a very long wait.
At around 6.30 the nurse said I would be able to see him but they couldn’t stabilise his oxygen levels. I was terrified and shocked when I first saw him. I know these ops are ‘routine’. I know almost every one is a success but our lives of late have been anything but easy, anything but straight forward and I was scared. The what ifs’ came fast and furious and I felt about to faint. The nurse sat me down and reassured me that sometimes, after a long operation and a lot of anaesthesia, this can happen.I hadn’t told anyone about my heart scare, tried not to think about it. He looked grey and asleep but after my holding his hand for a while, he raised my fingers to his lips and I wanted to cry with relief. We left around 10 pm when he was exhausted and needed to sleep.
So, that is the update I promised. The surgeon says he saved the nerves on the right hand side but couldn’t on the left, where the cancer was. He also removed the peripheral flesh and lymph nodes , hoping , he said to remove any trace of the cancer. I do hope he is right and have to, at this point tell myself he has, removed it all I mean.
I know some reading this will think, ‘they can’t say that, sometimes it is still there etc’. But today, I have to believe that it has gone. I just have to.
Since coming home, the evening after the operation, even though they offered to keep him another night, life has been exhausting. I know it is the man who has the surgery, but believe me I went through it with him. We do, if we love someone, we wish we could take it all away but we can’t. Watching him in such pain, mostly from the gas, was so hard. Seeing him look so ill, hurt beyond belief and I felt helpless.The first night though, trying to get the catheter in the right place to drain, making him comfortable in bed as he insisted he wanted his own bed, was exhausting. I know it was much worse for him but having had no proper sleep for days before the surgery or since, I wasn’t at my best. But we got there.
Today, with lots of peppermint tea, thanks to the guys who suggested this, a few pain killers and getting used to having me wait on him, he is looking slightly better. The gas pain has subsided and we have actually been able to laugh a little. Mostly at the ‘pants’ I bought him, with lovely patterned lines. Quite sexy I thought.
I was however, not prepared for what happened this morning, after settling him onto the sofa, after walking him around for a while, I wasn’t prepared for the tears. David doesn’t cry but cry he did. I thought it was relief and I suppose in a way it was. I put my arms around him and he held on tight. ‘I didn’t think I would be here today’ he said in a tiny voice. I was shocked, scared, didn’t know what to say. After reassuring him that tears were okay, he explained that he was and had been terrified of the anaesthetic. We both know of someone close who had suffered badly. A friend of mine had died during an operation because of anaesthesia and another was left brain-damaged. I hadn’t thought about those people before his operation, self-protection I suppose, but he had. Now I understood the ‘change ‘ in him the night before the operation. We sat and just held on for as long as he needed. Then I thought, my David was back.
So, the operation is over and we are one step forward to kicking ‘cancer’s butt, but we know we have a long way to go. For all of those men going through this or about to, stay strong. Talk about your fears, tell those you love how you feel, as when you feel it. And for the wives, girlfriends etc. I admire all of you and know now just how hard it is. Let the feelings out whenever you can and as often as you need.
This is my journey so I can only tell it from my perspective and so far, it sucks! I am trying my hardest to be strong. To care for him and look after him properly. I still feel so unwell but am hiding this from him. The other thing I have to hide is my anger towards someone who should be here supporting us and has now, when we need it most, refused because of his pig headedness. Something that happened last July, at his own hand and his own choice, he has taken himself out of the family circle. I thought this would bring him back in, that he would see how we need all the support we can get, how my daughter also needs support, but no. I have to keep this from David and that is hard. So, I am , like all wives, carers, care givers, taking care of the man I love and protecting him from certain things and always will. I will do my best and cope as I always do. I won’t let him down and will love him through it all. ‘In sickness and in health’ is tattooed on my mind and heart and I do it willingly as he would me.
So coping I am. But sometimes, I just wan’t to crawl away and scream. Yes I am still angry. Yes I am still scared. Yes I am still sad that life for him is different, for now at least. That our life together may be different in the future. But I can’t show any of this and just hope I can find the strong lady, I know is inside of me, in spite of everything and do the best for the man I love. I will look for that quiet place, possibly up in the fields where my beloved horse has her final resting place and cry the tears that I so need to shed.
I will keep updating on my page. Thankyou for reading.xx
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carolannwright 