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Operation Survive..



Today is the day.

Paul is having his lung popped, tumours scraped out and red hot chemo will be inserted over where the tumours were.. in medical terms its a Decortication & Pleurectomy.

(check out http://www.mesothelioma.uk.com/information-support/information/about-mesothelioma/ - under heading of Pleaural Mesothelioma to see what will be scraped out)

Life threatening.

Huuge.

It may even be the last day I set eyes on him alive..or fully functioning..

Goes in at 1pm. Will be around 7 hours in surgery then 2-3 days intensive care. Around 12 days total in hospital. 8 weeks until he can function normally again.

He was pretty scared last night. We both had a teensy thimble of Japanese whisky (Don't divorce me, Scotland) and talked about it.


This morning he was very calm. He hovered a little before we entered the hospital but was really chilled once we settled into our room (Flipping heck - well done Bupa - the Cromwell Hospital is like an amazing 5* hotel!! Never seen anything like it!!? They call you sir and madam, and you have an array of Temple Spa goodies in your luxury bathroom! ) I don't know why, and it's not that I'm ungrateful but it feels a bit wrong to have this level of care.

Everyone should receive this!

The social injustice doesn't make sense.. I feel like an impostor and someone will chuck me out soon..


Anyway, there was so much to do - lots of bloods and observations and a chat with the anaesthetist and the Professor himself.

Professor Lang has a mortality rate on this op of 0%. Something tells me Paul will be okay. I'm not really that worried about him surviving..mainly because of the reassurance we receive. Paul will survive unless there are complications we are unaware of.


I kissed Paul goodbye. He looked smaller in his gown and (thigh high) DVT stockings.

I kept on my smiling brave face until the lift doors closed.

I then had a cry. A massive sob. And prayed. I asked in Jesus' name that Paul would survive and the op would be successful.

I don't believe God wants this for Paul, and I know He's up there supporting this.

My faith has been my protector and source of hope.

I know very few people believe in God these days but it's my main source of strength...and let's face it - everyone needs support from somewhere.

At this stage, Paul's chest is like a box of chocolates. We don't know what the surgeon will find until he goes in there.

They told me to go home and come back at 6.30 so I did.

Really weird tube journey home. Mum and Grahame (my adopted dad) were anxious to find out what had happened. They are here to do the school run and my mum is amazing - constantly cleaning and cooking!

I have no idea what we'd do without those 2.

They're both in their 70s and running around after US?!

We love them so much. They've both been AMAZING.

My friend Niamh had dropped off a fish pie so I guzzled it down then went to pick up Cam from school. Hung out with him and did some homework. We have done our best to explain to him what is happening with daddy. We certainly do not want to scare him, but we also need to keep him in the picture. He's always suspicious if he feels something is being withheld from him - he's a sharp little Cookie (his surname is Cook)

So far we have told him the the surgery daddy had didn't work and he has an illness that needs to come out... hence why he is back in hospital. We told him the surgeon will cut out the rotten stuff and it will take a long time to recover .. but he will be okay!

Paul's mum Geri arrived in the afternoon so my bestie Sarah Q took us to the hospital.

Intensive care told us to call at 7pm and as I did they told us we could go down. ICU (intensive care) is in the basement of the Cromwell and he was the only patient. I tried to prepare my MiL for what she was about to see so it wasn't such a shock.

Paul was laid on a bed in obvious pain and drifting in and out of consciousness.

I couldn't see him but I could hear him. He was saying "I want my wife"

My heart soared to hear his voice. Pure relief and elation.

Another half hour later the Prof came to talk to us. It was good..said there was less tumour there than the original scan had indicated. The procedure wasn't as complicated as he'd anticipated. He asked if we'd had Avastin as chemo treatment. He said there's a pattern and that all the patients he'd seen who'd had the drug, seemed to exhibit larger reductions in tumours.

All I really remember him saying is that it had not spread - was all localised to the right lung, the bronchial tract was clear, as was the heart and diaphragm!!

THANK GOD!

Thank you Lord!!

Anyhow, i can't remember but I definitely whooped or shouted "Awesome!!!" or something embarassing like that.

I'm pretty sure the Prof thinks I'm a nutjob.

Paul was quite funny. He was still in La-la land.. totally out of it!

Tried to whisper (loudly) to me that he needed to scratch his bits and that he didn't like the nurse he was pointing at.. (not her fault - it was going to hurt him moving him around to do necessary tests!)

He opened his eyes on 4 successive occasions, genuinely surprised saying "Oh hello mum!!"

It became a bit of a laugh.. like groundhog day.

He was high as a kite.

Updated our Cookie Update whatsapp group to some superb, uplifting messages of suppport from friends and family.

He was in agony every time anyone touched his right side..and behaved out of normal jovial character shouting "Get off!!" at one point when the nurse sprayed his right side with Cryogesic (to see if he could feel anything). That was an error on her part. I've never seen anyone in such agony.


We had to leave him to sleep it all off at 10.30pm

Didn't want to leave at all.

But wow, I am SO SUPER-PROUD of him. He's my hero. He's my hubby.

Please Lord, let this mega-op have worked.

I love my brave husband so SOOO very much.

Noone should have to go through this.

Mesothelioma must be stopped.

Scrap that - ERASED.


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