The Thing

'The Thing' started with a visit to the wonderful folk at Titchfield Dental Centre. I am petrified of dentists but had finally been convinced that I could handle it after being re-assured by Sharon and her colleagues and so on the 14th July I had an appointment with the exceptionally kind Clare Chavasse.
The upshot was that Clare found a lump on my neck that she thought I should get checked out as soon as possible and this is the story of 'The Thing' ....

One Friday morning, two days before my 60th birthday, I received a call on my mobile at 08.30 just as I was pulling into my car parking space at work - PANIC - it was the QA hospital in Portsmouth wanting me to go in that day for an appointment with the Maxillofacial Outpatient Department - I will call you back says I - but then discovered that the 'phone number was unrecognised, so after many attempts finally managed to make contact with the person who had called me and an appointment was made for the following Tuesday ...

My birthday came and went in a haze and finally Tuesday arrives and I find myself in the 'maxfax' clinic with a Registrar poking around my neck and mouth; after a while he disappears to consult the boss! The 'boss' (Professor Brennan)comes in, introduces himself and has a poke around 'The Thing' and immediately tells me that they have to eliminate the obvious  and would I be so kind to step into his room where he proposes to insert a needle into 'The Thing' and take some cell samples - I HATE NEEDLES!!

I am then advised that I will need a CT scan and some sort of day surgery which will involve a probe going down my throat ...

2 days later and another 'phone call at work - shit - the 'boss' wants to do the surgery the next day - can I get cover at work - no, I am self-employed and need a bit more notice, so CT scan set for the Wednesday and surgery for the Thursday - a great week ahead and plenty of tears over the weekend...

The day of the CT scan arrives and I arrive early but am seen straight away - I will not bore you with the gory details, suffice it to say that the whole process and especially the insertion of the cannula was very painful - still got the bruises ...

Op day arrives and I am dropped of at the hospital with a 'See you later'. Carrying my bag with the prescribed dressing gown (purchased especially the day before) flip-flops and reading material I nervously head for Theatre Admissions ....

The staff were great and understood my nervousness but a pre-med could not be administered 'cos they did not have a trolley to take me to the theatre - you have to leg it! At 2pm I was collected and walked to theatre and met the 'boss' again all done up in a surgeon's gown - he was going to do the op which by now included a procedure to take a sample of 'The Thing' from my neck!

A very reassuring anaesthetist explained everything and then ...... SLEEP

The next thing I know is waking up in the recovery room with a drain pipe in my neck but feeling fine - no promised sore throat. After a while I am moved to what I thought was the discharge ward - haha - not that easy. My bag is on the discharge ward but I clearly am not and it seems that there is little chance of this turning out to be day surgery.

Forced to eat hospital bangers and mash (if you do not eat you are not going home) and I am a veggie! My partner has no idea where I am 'cos the only contact number I left behind was the discharge ward and they have my bag but not me and my mobile is in my bag. Eventually a kind nurse from the discharge ward finds me and brings my bag and an urgent message to phone my partner...

10pm and 'No you cannot go home 'cos 'The Thing' is still leaking into Fido the bottle attached to you - GREAT. Luckily I have a good book, The Girl Who Played With Fire, and spent the whole night reading...

Friday morning - yipee I can go home, but not before the removal of the drain (very painful) and a prescription for some eye ointment (?) that I have to rub on my wound 3 times a day! Left that behind.

Stitches out in a week and two appointments the week after that with PAB Clinic(?) and Multi Discipline Team - ah 'The Thing' has just become reality and I find the word Lympthoma on some of the discharge paperwork !!!! SHIT

Like so many people I have moved house and never thought to change my GP - so a visit to my 'old' GP is required in an attempt to persuade them to at least take out my stitches. NO CHANCE - the receptionist had obviously not had her daily happy pill and there was no way she was going to show any compassion.

Back home and try and find a new GP - spot signpost for the Westland Medical Centre two minutes from home, pull in and 20 mins later am registered and have an appointment for tomorrow to have my stitches out.

To be continued