About this Blog

This blog started as an online diary and place for me to rant about annoyances in my family.

However since July it has become a place for me to catalogue and express my views and opinions on the treatment I have recieved following the diagnosis of a potentially cancerous tumor in my bowel.

On 3rd August 2011 I was told that it was cancerous. In April 2012 I was given the all clear.

October 15th 2013 I was diagnosed with peritoneal disease and liver metastases. The cancer was back and this time it is inoperable.

It is a little bit out of date as the NHS doesn't tend to have a WiFi connection in hospital and I can only post when I get home and posts take a while to write.

It is NOT about individuals or the nursing profession. It is about some of the inadequacies in the system and the way the NHS is failing some people.

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Monday, 1 August 2011

Monday July 18th - Back to the Hospital

The pain remained on Sunday Evening, so after tossing and turning all night I decided I would call the hospital.

I called and was put through to the consultants secretary and explained my situation. She took all my details and said that she would get someone to look at it. While I was calling the hospital I realised that you could get through to the emergency department so I tried calling them, but they said I would have to come in and wait. I didn't fancy that. So I called my GP.

My GP has an emergency system whereby you leave your name and number and someone calls you back. The Dr that called me back could not have been better. I explained that situation and that I was taking the maximum dose of the paracetaol and tramadol and that they were not touching the pain anymore. He suggested a 'patch' that I could wear that would be stronger than what I was on already. What was even better was that he didn't want to see me. He would write me a prescription which I could collect from the front desk and I would have to go in the following day for an appointment to check it was working properly. I was waiting for Tony to come home from work so that he would be able to take me down to the GP's surgery to collect it. He wasn't happy about it as he wanted to go to bed, but sick wife takes precedent. We drove down to the GP's, I queued to request the prescription, got back in the car and then drove home. When we got back we had to locate the funds to enable us to pay for the prescription. This really annoyed me. I hadn't asked for any of this and certainly not this level of pain and then to have to pay £7.20 for the privilege of not being in pain anymore seems very wrong. 

Tony was dispatched to bed, and mum and the kids prepared to go to the chemist and anything else that grabbed their fancy while they were out. It must have been about 10.45 by now. I was beginning to have my faith restored in the NHS.

About 11.15 the phone rang, it was the consultants secretary she had spoken to one of the 'entourage' and they thought that it was worth me going back up to the hospital to SAU, Surgical Assessment Unit, to see him and to check there was nothing else wrong. 

As I hung up the phone, mum and the kids walked back through the door and I explained the new plan. 

We headed back to the hospital and I left mum and the kids with the car while I found the SAU and prepared to wait. While I was waiting they took blood, and 'obs' started again. I also had to go and have more X Rays to check that the tumor hadn't grown. 

Then I saw the surgeon/dr/entourage member - I am not sure what he was but he was familiar as I had seen him before. He prescribed a painkiller called 'Oromorph' and examined me. It appeared I had gone the other way and was 'blocked up' which was probably what was causing the pain. So we needed to 'unblock'.

 It was about 4pm now and I hadn't had any pain relief since 8am when I woke up. I managed to attract the attention of the nurse and she bought me some oromorph. It is a liquid painkiller which does not taste most pleasant, but it works. She also slipped something into my hand which I would use later and which wouldn't work.

At about 6pm I found out that they were readmitting me and the bed manager was trying to find me a bed. I didn't realise that this process would take so long. When the shifts changed at 7.30/8pm the staff nurse told me that I would probably have a bed in the next hour. This was the longest hour in history. I finally got a bed at 11.30.

So my ward - Actually this was the best part. I had a private room with en suite bathroom, and curtains 6 inches too short, with a view of the builders supply area and consequently the next day a lot of strange men walking past the window. My room also had one of the noisiest beds known to man!!

So, at 11.45pm I settled down in what was to be my home for the next 9 days (both the bed and the ward)