So, I went along to Oxford yesterday. It's quite a drive out there, and we got a little lost coming back, and I've been told any further treatment or tests will need to be done there. A little inconvenient, but necessary.
That being said, my trips there should be limited to about once every 3 months or so. For the next 5 years. Read on..
We got there on time, and Megan and I headed in while my mum found a parking place. The building was huge, and was just one of many. Oxford hospitals is a very, very large place. We found a map and found the route to the cancer/haemotology ward pretty quickly, then talked to the receptionist there and took a seat. There were 4 waiting areas just for this one ward, and scribbled on a whiteboard in black marker was the following:
DR NICUM - 40 MINS WAIT
DR SOMETHING - 60 MINS WAIT
DR SOMETHING ELSE - 70 MINS WAIT
I didn't actually know my doctor's name. I didn't catch it in the phone-call originally, nor when I signed in at reception. I was however pretty sure it was none of the three on the whiteboard. Still, we got ready to wait a while.
After a while, Megan noticed we were the youngest people in the entire waiting area. Apparently, despite being very common in men aged 20-35, testicular cancer wasn't too common that day. Most of the other patients were 60+, with a few middle-aged people here and there.
Mum eventually found a place and managed to find the ward too, and then thankfully a few minutes later I was called in. Not sure why we didn't have to wait 40+ minutes (the board was updated while we were waiting, another 20 minutes or so added onto each number), but I wasn't about to complain. I went in alone.
I was weighed and measured.. for some reason, then asked if I came in alone. I told the nurse who was with me, but decided to speak to the doctor alone. I'd done that for all the talks so far, why not continue the same way? I was then lead into a small doctor's office and told to wait.
While waiting in this small, no windowed room, I kept my mind busy by thinking of ways to defend myself against the possibility of a shambling zombie stumbling into the room. Eventually I decided a chair would be the best defensive weapon, and then the doctor came in. He moved too fast to be a zombie, so that train of thought ended there.
He introduced himself, but I still didn't catch the name. Something starting with P, I think. We talked for a bit, about my case and how it all happened, he took some notes about my circumstances and my health, and asked if I knew why I'd been referred. I told him I didn't know, but that I knew my markers had gone down, and as he started to explain, a nurse interrupted and he had to go take a phone-call. He apologized, but was still gone for about 10 minutes. Thankfully no zombies attacked during that time, either.
When he returned he told me all patients in my situation are referred to Oxford for further tests, treatment and general information, as they are the main cancer body for this entire area of the UK. Milton Keynes is somewhere in the middle, sometimes being referred to Northampton, other times Oxford, but he assured me it should always be Oxford and nobody should be referring patients to Northampton anymore.
He then told me about the tumour that was removed. It was a roughly 3cm large sphere, which is apparently pretty small. It did contain several types of cancer, a lot of seminoma, some infant stage teratoma, and also some embryonal carcinoma. Yum.
He gave me some figures - due to the types of cancer, the lack of spreading shown on the CT scan and the dropped tumour markers, 95% of men in my situation are fine and don't need any further treatment. I have a low chance of the cancer coming back, and if it does, the odds that my remaining testes will be affected is even lower. He did tell me however, that Oxford are going to go over all the results of the tests Milton Keynes did, and if they feel there is something amiss, I may get another call. The chances of that are "less than 5%", though.
So, what happens now? Well, I have to go back in 6 weeks (28th November) for another blood test (AWESOME) and a chest x-ray. So that'll be fun. And the likelihood is that I will have another CT scan around January. And every 3 months after that. For 5 years.
What does that mean for me? Well, obviously if I leave the country again, I lose my free-CT-scan card. So we'll just have to take it one step at a time. If I can get another scan just before I leave, at least it'll give me a few months to get enough funds to start taking care of myself out there. And while USA CT scans are hella expensive, blood tests and x-rays aren't quite as bad, and hopefully I can get a job with health insurance.
After I was finished with the doctor, he sent in one of their cancer support nurses. She went over a few basic problems men like me have, and then gave me a checksheet with a bunch of help topics in them, such as cancer and dieting, infertility worries, depression, all sorts of problems or worries men get while going through this sort of thing. I checked a few and she said they'd send some information through the mail, and also gave me a website that I can check out at my leisure. I haven't had a chance to do that yet, but hopefully I'll have time soon.
But all that is a worry for another day. I am officially cancer free - for now. As soon as I shake the last remnants of this annoying cold, it'll be time to start doing things again.
That being said, my mother is going under the knife tomorrow for an operation to do with the veins in her legs. I won't go into detail, but it's something that's been plaguing her since she was younger than I am now, so if anyone is still sending me well wishes, I'd appreciate if they could send them her way instead.
So, I think that's about it, for now. I'll keep this blog updated when.. or if, anything happens. If all goes well, the next update will be at the end of November, when I head back to Oxford, but who knows what might happen.
Well, at least if the thing that happens is zombies, I'll be prepared.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Oxford
So, I already posted this on Facebook, as I knew I wouldn't get around to blogging it for at least a day - my blood results came back, and I have normal, low tumour markers now. So that's good. That means the blood isn't reporting any hidden tumours that we don't know about. That, plus the clear scan, is really good news.
I have, however, still been referred to Oxford. I am heading there tomorrow morning, and there they shall discuss MY FUTURE. Again. Seems I might not be out of the woods yet. Chemo, radiotherapy or none of the above? Hopefully I'll know 12 hours from now.
I am however, still a little ill. Nothing major, just a cold. All kinds of coughing and sneezing, fun stuff. But at least I don't need to get anything surgically removed. That's a plus.
It's also my mum's birthday today, so I've spent the day cooking dinner and a cake. Curry and chocolate cake go together, right?
Oh also also here is a lovely picture of the bruise on my right arm, from where they took blood effortlessly five days ago. I swear I applied enough pressure. Apparently not.
I have, however, still been referred to Oxford. I am heading there tomorrow morning, and there they shall discuss MY FUTURE. Again. Seems I might not be out of the woods yet. Chemo, radiotherapy or none of the above? Hopefully I'll know 12 hours from now.
I am however, still a little ill. Nothing major, just a cold. All kinds of coughing and sneezing, fun stuff. But at least I don't need to get anything surgically removed. That's a plus.
It's also my mum's birthday today, so I've spent the day cooking dinner and a cake. Curry and chocolate cake go together, right?
Oh also also here is a lovely picture of the bruise on my right arm, from where they took blood effortlessly five days ago. I swear I applied enough pressure. Apparently not.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Blood Sample #5
Yes! Had my blood taken for the fifth time in the last 2 months today! I should be earning points or something, maybe get a free milkshake once I get to 6?
So I had my chat with Mr Andrews today, the surgeon that did my operation and also the consultant urologist in charge of my case. Arrived at MK hospital around 11:50am, and was called in at about 20 past 12. Not too bad.
He asked me some basic questions while bringing up all my files and images. He had the image of someone else's testes on the screen when I came in. It was kind of strange. Finally once the computer stopped freezing every 5 seconds, he got the files he needed.
He asked how the implant was sitting, and I got to ask him a few questions about it. I explained how it remained swollen for over a week, but that antibiotics fixed it. I asked exactly.. how it was sitting in there, and if it was stitched in. He told me they "attach" it to the skin, but didn't use the word stitch. He also told me they "close the hole" to stop it from floating back out. He told me I didn't want to cough it up one day. So I think I am stuck with how it feels now, which is very different from the other one.. but at least it helps my balance, right?
Then he started discussing the results of the scan. He said it was all good, and that it showed no spreading whatsoever. Good news. He also told me I needed another blood test today (number 5!) to check for tumour markers. If they've gone down too, there's a good chance I am in the clear. Regardless of result, my further treatment is up in the air at the moment, I could still need a round of chemo, or "a few packs" of radiotherapy. We'll see.
He told me about the tumour that was removed - it apparently had several types of germ cells within it, not just a single type. I thought tumours were always a specific type, teratoma, seminoma etc. But apparently mine contained both of those and more! Terrifying. But it hasn't spread. According to the scan. So that's good.
I told him that Mr Choudhary had booked me an appointment at Northampton before I even saw anybody. He said he shouldn't have done that, and asked him to be called in to ask why, but he was with another patient. He told me I should have had my chat first, and then had this blood test, and then further treatment discussed. He also said they don't work with Northampton anymore - any further treatment will probably be up in Oxford! But I'll worry about that if the time comes.
Oh, and the lady who took my blood today managed it first time. I was quite impressed. She then told me what great hair I have. As if I didn't know that already..
So.. for now, more waiting. But at least it's almost certain that I am fine now, instead of just hoping I'm fine.
Oh, and also, I have a cold. My throat is killing me. Megan has been sick for nearly a week now, so I have that to look forward to too! Hooray!
So I had my chat with Mr Andrews today, the surgeon that did my operation and also the consultant urologist in charge of my case. Arrived at MK hospital around 11:50am, and was called in at about 20 past 12. Not too bad.
He asked me some basic questions while bringing up all my files and images. He had the image of someone else's testes on the screen when I came in. It was kind of strange. Finally once the computer stopped freezing every 5 seconds, he got the files he needed.
He asked how the implant was sitting, and I got to ask him a few questions about it. I explained how it remained swollen for over a week, but that antibiotics fixed it. I asked exactly.. how it was sitting in there, and if it was stitched in. He told me they "attach" it to the skin, but didn't use the word stitch. He also told me they "close the hole" to stop it from floating back out. He told me I didn't want to cough it up one day. So I think I am stuck with how it feels now, which is very different from the other one.. but at least it helps my balance, right?
Then he started discussing the results of the scan. He said it was all good, and that it showed no spreading whatsoever. Good news. He also told me I needed another blood test today (number 5!) to check for tumour markers. If they've gone down too, there's a good chance I am in the clear. Regardless of result, my further treatment is up in the air at the moment, I could still need a round of chemo, or "a few packs" of radiotherapy. We'll see.
He told me about the tumour that was removed - it apparently had several types of germ cells within it, not just a single type. I thought tumours were always a specific type, teratoma, seminoma etc. But apparently mine contained both of those and more! Terrifying. But it hasn't spread. According to the scan. So that's good.
I told him that Mr Choudhary had booked me an appointment at Northampton before I even saw anybody. He said he shouldn't have done that, and asked him to be called in to ask why, but he was with another patient. He told me I should have had my chat first, and then had this blood test, and then further treatment discussed. He also said they don't work with Northampton anymore - any further treatment will probably be up in Oxford! But I'll worry about that if the time comes.
Oh, and the lady who took my blood today managed it first time. I was quite impressed. She then told me what great hair I have. As if I didn't know that already..
So.. for now, more waiting. But at least it's almost certain that I am fine now, instead of just hoping I'm fine.
Oh, and also, I have a cold. My throat is killing me. Megan has been sick for nearly a week now, so I have that to look forward to too! Hooray!
Monday, October 10, 2011
I don't know what to call these entries anymore
So just a quick (hopefully) but quite important update today.
So, I have my appointment with the urologist Mr Andrews on Wednesday. I already knew about that one, the hospital has confirmed the appointment no less than three times.
But today, Monday, I got a call from Northampton General Hospital asking me to attend the oncology department on Thursday. I say that's fine, but ask why and who set it up. The lady tells me it's with a Dr Falst, who I've been referred to by Mr Andrews. I tell her I haven't even seen Mr Andrews yet, but she tells me that's fine and that I still need to attend that appointment too.
So I get off the phone and think for a minute. Back before my surgery, I saw a Mr Choudhary, who discussed the procedure with me, asked about my implant preferences, etc. He told me about what would happen post-surgery - that I would have a follow up meeting, and then decide if I need further treatment (radiotherapy, chemo, etc). He told me if I did need either of those, that they would be done at Northampton General Hospital.
So my mind was racing at that point. Has Mr Andrews looked at my scan results and found out I need follow up treatment? Am I going to have to get chemo after all? I talked to Megan who agreed that it was kind of worrying. I went downstairs and told my mum, and she said it would probably all be fine, they probably just want a chat, but that I should phone my doctor and ask what was going on.
So I phoned my GP and the receptionist answered. I explained my case in a rather confusing and panicy way. She got a little confused, but eventually we got to the point. They hadn't sent anything to the hospital for over a week, and hadn't heard anything new. She suggested I phone MK hospital, which I did.
I was put through to Mr Andrews secretary, who confirmed I had been referred to Northampton, but was shocked that I hand't been told. Apparently this usually happens post-consultation, not before. She told me my case was discussed in a meeting last Tuesday, and then Mr Choudhary had dictated a letter to be sent to Northampton that Wednesday. They'd now received it, and have booked me in.
I asked why I'd been referred, and she told me it was a normal part of procedure. She told me all radical orchiectomy patients were referred to Northampton for further care. She started reading from either the letter to Northampton or directly from my file, and I managed to type a few phrases into Notepad to Google afterwards. They were, complete with their very simplified Google'd meanings, as follows:
No metastatic disease - Turns out a metastatic cancer is the bad kind, the one that can spread. I apparently show no signs of metastatic disease. I'm going with that being a good thing.
Raised tumour markers - When the body notices cancers, it produces chemicals that can be detected in blood. These are called raised tumour markers, and the fact I do have them means it was indeed cancer and not just a big cyst or something. Yuck.
Completely abscised - Turns out abscision is just another term for "cut out". If my tumour was completely cut out, that means there's no more in there. Hooray.
So this is all just uh.. based on a very hurried phonecall, but hopefully I'm in the clear. I'll find out for sure on Wednesday. I still have to go to Northampton on Thursday. It's still very possible they will recommend radio or even chemo therapy, I'll just have to wait and see.
But hopefully it'll be fine.
So, I have my appointment with the urologist Mr Andrews on Wednesday. I already knew about that one, the hospital has confirmed the appointment no less than three times.
But today, Monday, I got a call from Northampton General Hospital asking me to attend the oncology department on Thursday. I say that's fine, but ask why and who set it up. The lady tells me it's with a Dr Falst, who I've been referred to by Mr Andrews. I tell her I haven't even seen Mr Andrews yet, but she tells me that's fine and that I still need to attend that appointment too.
So I get off the phone and think for a minute. Back before my surgery, I saw a Mr Choudhary, who discussed the procedure with me, asked about my implant preferences, etc. He told me about what would happen post-surgery - that I would have a follow up meeting, and then decide if I need further treatment (radiotherapy, chemo, etc). He told me if I did need either of those, that they would be done at Northampton General Hospital.
So my mind was racing at that point. Has Mr Andrews looked at my scan results and found out I need follow up treatment? Am I going to have to get chemo after all? I talked to Megan who agreed that it was kind of worrying. I went downstairs and told my mum, and she said it would probably all be fine, they probably just want a chat, but that I should phone my doctor and ask what was going on.
So I phoned my GP and the receptionist answered. I explained my case in a rather confusing and panicy way. She got a little confused, but eventually we got to the point. They hadn't sent anything to the hospital for over a week, and hadn't heard anything new. She suggested I phone MK hospital, which I did.
I was put through to Mr Andrews secretary, who confirmed I had been referred to Northampton, but was shocked that I hand't been told. Apparently this usually happens post-consultation, not before. She told me my case was discussed in a meeting last Tuesday, and then Mr Choudhary had dictated a letter to be sent to Northampton that Wednesday. They'd now received it, and have booked me in.
I asked why I'd been referred, and she told me it was a normal part of procedure. She told me all radical orchiectomy patients were referred to Northampton for further care. She started reading from either the letter to Northampton or directly from my file, and I managed to type a few phrases into Notepad to Google afterwards. They were, complete with their very simplified Google'd meanings, as follows:
No metastatic disease - Turns out a metastatic cancer is the bad kind, the one that can spread. I apparently show no signs of metastatic disease. I'm going with that being a good thing.
Raised tumour markers - When the body notices cancers, it produces chemicals that can be detected in blood. These are called raised tumour markers, and the fact I do have them means it was indeed cancer and not just a big cyst or something. Yuck.
Completely abscised - Turns out abscision is just another term for "cut out". If my tumour was completely cut out, that means there's no more in there. Hooray.
So this is all just uh.. based on a very hurried phonecall, but hopefully I'm in the clear. I'll find out for sure on Wednesday. I still have to go to Northampton on Thursday. It's still very possible they will recommend radio or even chemo therapy, I'll just have to wait and see.
But hopefully it'll be fine.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Month 2
I haven't been posting much, but I feel like there isn't much to say. Officially, things are still the same, I'm still waiting for my appointment with the urologist to discuss my future and the results of my scan. That's been booked now, for next Wednesday, the 12th of October. At that point Mr Andrews will let me know if the cancer was malignant or benign, and if it has spread further. He'll recommend either chemo, radiotherapy or neither, and he'll hopefully tell me when my next scan will be too. Lots more will be revealed on Wednesday.
That's really why I haven't been posting. I feel that if I have no news, I have nothing to say. I read other's blogs sometimes and they are usually centered around events or how people feel about events, and since I have no events to share, that leaves me with feelings. And I'm not very good with feelings.
I have no idea how I really feel about myself or these circumstances at the moment. I change from happy to sad for no reason, I'm occasionally horny but often have no sex drive at all (too much info, but it's kind of a key thing with the type of cancer I had), I feel like pigging out way too often, but mostly I have a horrible sense of dread. What if it has spread? What if I am that one out of ten that gets bad news from their scan? Someone has to be that guy. If nobody was that guy, it would be ten out of ten, not nine. What if it's me?
I know it's pointless freaking out about something you aren't even sure about, and if it wasn't me going through it I would be telling myself that. But I can't shake the feeling that things are still wrong. I just wish I knew why.
Maybe it almost feels too easy, so far? While I did have to abandon my life and flee back to the UK, it seems a small price to pay compared to what I thought of cancer before this. I thought cancer was this life destroying disease, not something you might get sorted in one operation. Or maybe I'm just being pessimistic? I always have been, and it seems that sometimes if something else could go wrong, it will.
Or maybe it's something more physical. Before the operation, back in the olden days when I still had both testicles (ah, memories), it was very obvious that one was fine and one was not. I could compare. I had a control group, I had a test subject, old lefty was what I based old righty's poor condition off of. Now, I have one that I am praying is fine, and one fake implant that feels nothing like the real thing. I feel the one I have left and wonder to myself, "is that what it is supposed to feel like?". I worry that it's not. But I can only wait 'til next Wednesday. Fun.
I have a horrid habit of playing out what-if scenarios in my head. I guess most people do this, but mine are always tainted by my pessimism. I think to myself, what if it's spread. What if I lose the other testicle, how much will that affect my life? And I realise it will affect it quite a lot.
Just a warning, this may get a little uh.. personal, here, but I need to write it down at some point. I forsee my future self as being quite a family man. Having a boring 9-5 job in a cubicle somewhere in the USA doesn't bother me, so long as I have a family to provide for. Before I met Megan, I didn't know how much I wanted it, but now it turns out I really do. The idea that, while it will still be possible in this horrible maybe-future, won't seem.. right, is just terrifying. I don't know what I'd do. I don't know how I'd react. I wouldn't be able to do it myself, nor would I have the sex drive to do it myself without chemical hormones.
Everything would be test tubes and expenses. Megan would have to be over here if we went that route, and the sperm bank only freezes my stuff for 3 years (with possible extension, but still). Just lots of stuff to worry about if that is how it turns out.
If. I hate ifs. I can't plan around ifs. I'm sick of ifs.
Oh, and also, my old cat died today. RIP Taz, I'm sure I'll accidentally say your name about 12,000 times in the next two or so weeks and feel sad every time I do so.
That's really why I haven't been posting. I feel that if I have no news, I have nothing to say. I read other's blogs sometimes and they are usually centered around events or how people feel about events, and since I have no events to share, that leaves me with feelings. And I'm not very good with feelings.
I have no idea how I really feel about myself or these circumstances at the moment. I change from happy to sad for no reason, I'm occasionally horny but often have no sex drive at all (too much info, but it's kind of a key thing with the type of cancer I had), I feel like pigging out way too often, but mostly I have a horrible sense of dread. What if it has spread? What if I am that one out of ten that gets bad news from their scan? Someone has to be that guy. If nobody was that guy, it would be ten out of ten, not nine. What if it's me?
I know it's pointless freaking out about something you aren't even sure about, and if it wasn't me going through it I would be telling myself that. But I can't shake the feeling that things are still wrong. I just wish I knew why.
Maybe it almost feels too easy, so far? While I did have to abandon my life and flee back to the UK, it seems a small price to pay compared to what I thought of cancer before this. I thought cancer was this life destroying disease, not something you might get sorted in one operation. Or maybe I'm just being pessimistic? I always have been, and it seems that sometimes if something else could go wrong, it will.
Or maybe it's something more physical. Before the operation, back in the olden days when I still had both testicles (ah, memories), it was very obvious that one was fine and one was not. I could compare. I had a control group, I had a test subject, old lefty was what I based old righty's poor condition off of. Now, I have one that I am praying is fine, and one fake implant that feels nothing like the real thing. I feel the one I have left and wonder to myself, "is that what it is supposed to feel like?". I worry that it's not. But I can only wait 'til next Wednesday. Fun.
I have a horrid habit of playing out what-if scenarios in my head. I guess most people do this, but mine are always tainted by my pessimism. I think to myself, what if it's spread. What if I lose the other testicle, how much will that affect my life? And I realise it will affect it quite a lot.
Just a warning, this may get a little uh.. personal, here, but I need to write it down at some point. I forsee my future self as being quite a family man. Having a boring 9-5 job in a cubicle somewhere in the USA doesn't bother me, so long as I have a family to provide for. Before I met Megan, I didn't know how much I wanted it, but now it turns out I really do. The idea that, while it will still be possible in this horrible maybe-future, won't seem.. right, is just terrifying. I don't know what I'd do. I don't know how I'd react. I wouldn't be able to do it myself, nor would I have the sex drive to do it myself without chemical hormones.
Everything would be test tubes and expenses. Megan would have to be over here if we went that route, and the sperm bank only freezes my stuff for 3 years (with possible extension, but still). Just lots of stuff to worry about if that is how it turns out.
If. I hate ifs. I can't plan around ifs. I'm sick of ifs.
Oh, and also, my old cat died today. RIP Taz, I'm sure I'll accidentally say your name about 12,000 times in the next two or so weeks and feel sad every time I do so.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Recovery - Days 26 to 31
31 days. Today, it's been a month since Dr Berardinucci told me what he thought was going on. In a month I have changed countries, put my life on hold, had several doctors appointments, had an operation, had a CT scan, and am now recovering. I remember around Day 5, I commented on how slow everything was going, but now I can't believe it's been a whole month. So much to change in a month. So, so much.
I had a few medical encounters in the last few days. Three days ago I went to my local GP, as I was worried about my swelling. I set up an appointment in the morning, then headed there near midday. I talked to a Dr Sharif, who I am not sure if I've talked to before. He checked my wound and checked my swelling, told me the wound was healing fine and the swelling feels like just blood and should go down on its own. He did put me on antibiotics however, which I've been taking and they have been helping.
Strangely enough, he seemed more interested in me emotionally than physically. He asked me how I'd been coping with the whole situation, and asked exactly what happened since the circumstances are quite odd. I told him my amazing tale, about how much things would have cost in the USA, and about my visa. He laughed when I told him the woman at the USCIS counter in Texas cried, and joked that I seemed to be taking it better than she did. He told me he has a sister who lives in Texas, and advised me that the visa should be easier now we're married. We'll see.
I still haven't heard anything from the US government, but Megan hasn't hardly been in touch with home, so maybe some mail has come by now?
Anyway, the antibiotics seem to be working, so that's good. I'm weaning myself off painkillers now too, so I'm a bit tender and have little stabs of pain from time to time, but it all seems to be going okay. Well, it will be, if my scan results come back clear.
So, my scan. Day before yesterday, 21st Sep, I went to MK hospital once again for my CT scan. I arrived on time, and I'd followed the eating/drinking rules, no food for 3 hours beforehand, no drinking for 1 hour beforehand. A few minutes after I arrived, a nurse came out bearing two medium sized bottles. I was told that my scan would be in about an hour, and I had to drink all the milky white solution between now and then. Megan seemed more interested in it than I was, all I can remember now is that it was some kind of sodium solution, diluted with water, that contained barium. Fun.
I assume it was so stuff would show up on the scan, so I started drinking. I was still allowed to use the restroom during the hour, which is good as I did need to a few times. About 50 minutes later, another nurse comes by to take me to the scanning area. I tell her I hadn't quite finished my solution, but she told me it would be fine and disposed of the bottles.
I got changed into a fetching blue gown and took another seat. A little uncomfortable sitting in a gown in a small waiting room with people in normal clothes, but hey. About 15 minutes later I was called in.
I'd never had a CT scan before, and wasn't sure what to expect, but basically it is this: you lay on a table which has the ability to raise and lower, as well as move lengthways. You raise up and slowly move lengthways until your legs are inside this giant mechanical ring, which contains a spinning device that takes the scan. Everybody has to leave the room for the actual scan, and the machine tells you to hold your breath while it takes them. A few scans in, the radiographer comes back in and tells me it's going fine, but I need an iodine injection and then a few more scans.
To this day I am not sure if everyone needs to drink and have an injection, or if the drink just didn't work its way around my system. I didn't think of asking. Regardless, my recent luck with needles resurfaced as neither man could find any of my veins. I had a man on either side of me, tapping my arms and hands, all fruitlessly. Eventually they decided to try putting the drip into my right hand, again fruitlessly, so now I have a bruise there to match the anaesthetic bruise on my left hand.
They then got who I assume was a master phlebotomist in, who found a vein in my left forearm and injected immediately. I wish everyone was that fast. I felt the iodine flow around my body, it makes you feel very warm and funnily enough it makes you feel that you are peeing. I'm glad it just makes you feel, not actually do.
Regardless, they left the room again, and a few more minutes later I was done. I got up woozily, went and got changed, then waited yet another 20 minutes for them to remove the drip syringe from my arm. Once that was done, and I was covered in tiny pinprick holes once more, I was free to go.
So at this point, medically, I am waiting for my appointment with Mr Andrews, the urologist, which will be in about another 2 or 3 weeks. Non-medically, I am now seeking work, I guess, although I have half a mind to just wait until I see Mr Andrews in case I need anything else done. But still, I have to do something, I feel kind of useless just sitting around.
But we'll see what happens. And when something does, I'll let you know, blog.
Smell ya later.
I had a few medical encounters in the last few days. Three days ago I went to my local GP, as I was worried about my swelling. I set up an appointment in the morning, then headed there near midday. I talked to a Dr Sharif, who I am not sure if I've talked to before. He checked my wound and checked my swelling, told me the wound was healing fine and the swelling feels like just blood and should go down on its own. He did put me on antibiotics however, which I've been taking and they have been helping.
Strangely enough, he seemed more interested in me emotionally than physically. He asked me how I'd been coping with the whole situation, and asked exactly what happened since the circumstances are quite odd. I told him my amazing tale, about how much things would have cost in the USA, and about my visa. He laughed when I told him the woman at the USCIS counter in Texas cried, and joked that I seemed to be taking it better than she did. He told me he has a sister who lives in Texas, and advised me that the visa should be easier now we're married. We'll see.
I still haven't heard anything from the US government, but Megan hasn't hardly been in touch with home, so maybe some mail has come by now?
Anyway, the antibiotics seem to be working, so that's good. I'm weaning myself off painkillers now too, so I'm a bit tender and have little stabs of pain from time to time, but it all seems to be going okay. Well, it will be, if my scan results come back clear.
So, my scan. Day before yesterday, 21st Sep, I went to MK hospital once again for my CT scan. I arrived on time, and I'd followed the eating/drinking rules, no food for 3 hours beforehand, no drinking for 1 hour beforehand. A few minutes after I arrived, a nurse came out bearing two medium sized bottles. I was told that my scan would be in about an hour, and I had to drink all the milky white solution between now and then. Megan seemed more interested in it than I was, all I can remember now is that it was some kind of sodium solution, diluted with water, that contained barium. Fun.
I assume it was so stuff would show up on the scan, so I started drinking. I was still allowed to use the restroom during the hour, which is good as I did need to a few times. About 50 minutes later, another nurse comes by to take me to the scanning area. I tell her I hadn't quite finished my solution, but she told me it would be fine and disposed of the bottles.
I got changed into a fetching blue gown and took another seat. A little uncomfortable sitting in a gown in a small waiting room with people in normal clothes, but hey. About 15 minutes later I was called in.
I'd never had a CT scan before, and wasn't sure what to expect, but basically it is this: you lay on a table which has the ability to raise and lower, as well as move lengthways. You raise up and slowly move lengthways until your legs are inside this giant mechanical ring, which contains a spinning device that takes the scan. Everybody has to leave the room for the actual scan, and the machine tells you to hold your breath while it takes them. A few scans in, the radiographer comes back in and tells me it's going fine, but I need an iodine injection and then a few more scans.
To this day I am not sure if everyone needs to drink and have an injection, or if the drink just didn't work its way around my system. I didn't think of asking. Regardless, my recent luck with needles resurfaced as neither man could find any of my veins. I had a man on either side of me, tapping my arms and hands, all fruitlessly. Eventually they decided to try putting the drip into my right hand, again fruitlessly, so now I have a bruise there to match the anaesthetic bruise on my left hand.
They then got who I assume was a master phlebotomist in, who found a vein in my left forearm and injected immediately. I wish everyone was that fast. I felt the iodine flow around my body, it makes you feel very warm and funnily enough it makes you feel that you are peeing. I'm glad it just makes you feel, not actually do.
Regardless, they left the room again, and a few more minutes later I was done. I got up woozily, went and got changed, then waited yet another 20 minutes for them to remove the drip syringe from my arm. Once that was done, and I was covered in tiny pinprick holes once more, I was free to go.
So at this point, medically, I am waiting for my appointment with Mr Andrews, the urologist, which will be in about another 2 or 3 weeks. Non-medically, I am now seeking work, I guess, although I have half a mind to just wait until I see Mr Andrews in case I need anything else done. But still, I have to do something, I feel kind of useless just sitting around.
But we'll see what happens. And when something does, I'll let you know, blog.
Smell ya later.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Recovery - Days 23, 24 + 25
Argh, my body aches!
I took off my bandages day before yesterday. The most relieving were my leg stockings, it was so nice to be able to scratch my legs again. I don't think hairy legs and stockings really mix too well.
I also took off the support bandages around my groin, and the suture plaster itself. The wound is healing, a little gross looking but not inflamed or anything. Doesn't even hurt that much to touch it, I just have to make sure I don't poke it or anything. Here's hoping for zero infections!
As for how I feel in general.. I'm still mixed. I don't really feel very settled in, but maybe I just need to give it more time. Due to my circumstances it kind of feels like I am a guest here, like I'm visiting.. but at the same time, it also feels like I was just visiting the USA. It's a strange feeling, kind of a sense of not belonging. But like I said, maybe I just haven't been here long enough.
I am signing back up for Jobseeker's again, and I have my appointment on Monday.. hooray. I sure missed that. I don't know if I'm going to manage to work while I'm here, but if I am here for the long haul, hopefully I will. It would be nice to have money again. I miss that, too.
Megan has been whisked away by one of my friends today. She spent yesterday morning with my mum up the allotment. I'm happy she is getting out, and I hope she enjoys it. I can't really imagine how she feels at the moment. I don't even really know how I feel.
But, the important thing, I guess, is that I seem to be healing. I just wish I could hurry up and have my scan. I want to know what to expect, but I guess in life we never really know what to expect. You just have to roll with the punches.
Unfortunately, at the moment it hurts to roll. Ouch.
I took off my bandages day before yesterday. The most relieving were my leg stockings, it was so nice to be able to scratch my legs again. I don't think hairy legs and stockings really mix too well.
I also took off the support bandages around my groin, and the suture plaster itself. The wound is healing, a little gross looking but not inflamed or anything. Doesn't even hurt that much to touch it, I just have to make sure I don't poke it or anything. Here's hoping for zero infections!
As for how I feel in general.. I'm still mixed. I don't really feel very settled in, but maybe I just need to give it more time. Due to my circumstances it kind of feels like I am a guest here, like I'm visiting.. but at the same time, it also feels like I was just visiting the USA. It's a strange feeling, kind of a sense of not belonging. But like I said, maybe I just haven't been here long enough.
I am signing back up for Jobseeker's again, and I have my appointment on Monday.. hooray. I sure missed that. I don't know if I'm going to manage to work while I'm here, but if I am here for the long haul, hopefully I will. It would be nice to have money again. I miss that, too.
Megan has been whisked away by one of my friends today. She spent yesterday morning with my mum up the allotment. I'm happy she is getting out, and I hope she enjoys it. I can't really imagine how she feels at the moment. I don't even really know how I feel.
But, the important thing, I guess, is that I seem to be healing. I just wish I could hurry up and have my scan. I want to know what to expect, but I guess in life we never really know what to expect. You just have to roll with the punches.
Unfortunately, at the moment it hurts to roll. Ouch.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Surgery Day & Day 22
Hoo boy. Surgery day. The most fun possible to have at a hospital?? I think so!
I had to get there around 11:30am, which I did. I felt fine, a little bit nervous but nothing major. Megan and my mum came in with me, but within 20 minutes I was called to a back room and they had to leave. Another attempt later (the first time the lady came to get me, she didn't actually tell us to come with her, and while I was saying bye, I got locked out of the room. A few more minutes waiting brought her back, though.) I was taken into a back room and showed to a bed.
The bed had upon it an open-backed robe, a large towel and a large sheet. The curtained-off room also contained a small empty blue crate and a small chair. I was not sure if I was supposed to change into the robe or not, so I just waited. After about 10 minutes of waiting I walked to the little reception that the ward had and asked, and was told that a nurse would come along and explain things soon. So I went back and waited.
Shortly, an "assistant to Mr Andrews" turned up. He introduced himself to everyone like that, no names. I thought that was pretty strange. He asked me some questions, basic ones about smoking/eating etc, then left pretty quickly. A little bizarre I thought, but whatever.
I'm glad I brought my book (still reading Wheel of Time) as I'd gotten through about 3 chapters before the nurse showed up. She got me to lay on the bed, and told me she had to take my blood pressure and, surprise surprise, a blood sample. Again. Apparently the sample they took in A&E didn't have "enough blood in it". Neat. So I talked her through the last attempts to draw blood, and how little success the other MK nurse had. I also had only drunk 1 cup of water that morning (I'm only allowed to drink 2 anyway, and I didn't think they'd be taking more blood!) so my veins didn't show up very well. So she stabbed me in the arm twice to no avail, then stabbed in in the hand twice too. Eventually she got some, and it was the slowest draining blood in the whole world ever. I never look, I always just stare at the ceiling, but my neck started to hurt so I looked. The vial was very slow at filling up, I tried relaxing, tried breathing deeper, but all that did was make me want to pass out.
She finally finished just in time, as I'm almost certain I would have passed out if I didn't lay down at that point. She apologized for how long it took, and told me to change into the robe when I feel better and the anaesthetist will be along shortly. I asked if I needed to remove all clothes first, and she told me I could keep my boxers on until they come to take me to the theatre. I also stupidly asked for some water to calm my nerves, but I wasn't allowed to drink anything else. Oh, also, she told me my blood pressure was kind of high, but she chalked that up to nervousness. Apparently I was more nervous than I felt.
After a short while I did change, the robe wasn't too uncomfortable although I had trouble tying up the second tie. The anaesthetist came in shortly, she didn't do anything other than double check questions I'd been asked before.. whether I smoke, whether I've ever smoked, if I use drugs, the last time I ate/drank, stuff like that. She seemed happy with the answers, and left saying she would "see me later". I guess she would!
Another few chapters later some other nurse came by just to check I was okay, and explained the procedure to me. I already knew how the op would go, and what he said sounded right, so I agreed to it. He then started to put up the side of my bed to take me away. He left after doing that, so when another nurse came by I told her I was still wearing my boxers. She agreed that wasn't a good idea for the procedure I was having, so she left while I took them off and laid back on the bed.
Then after a few more questions and another blood pressure test, I was off. I was taken to the operating theatre door, then the nurse went inside. He returned with the anaesthetist's assistant, who asked me the same questions again. She also asked how long it's been since I noticed the swelling, and how I noticed it. She asked about the USA and my wife, and then I realised she was just trying to chill me out. I got wheeled into the anaesthetist's room, and the woman from earlier was in there. A man who I am assuming was a surgeon was also in attendance. He double checked the op I was having, double checked which side, then after inspecting it, drew an arrow on my right leg. It's still on there now. Can't be too careful, I guess.
I had my blood pressure taken one last time (I swear it was taken like 54 times over the whole day), I had a cannula attached to my wrist, and I had a gas mask put on. As the anaesthetist told me it would be a matter of seconds, her assistant told me to think of something nice. Like my wife. I laughed as I closed my eyes. The last thing I saw was the clock pointing to 1:45pm.
Then, after what seemed like moments, I woke up in the recovery room. I can't really describe the feeling of waking up from anaesthetic. It's like your body is fighting to wake up, but your brain can't work fast enough. I think I handled it quite well, I just kept trying to raise my head but was finding it difficult to manage. A disembodied voice to my right told me where I was, and that the operation was all over. I tried to make a joke about it only being 5 seconds since I was in the anaesthetist's room, but I think it came out as a mumble.
A women in a bed to my left kept trying to turn over, and what I'm guessing was a nurse kept telling her she had to lay on her back. She just looked asleep. Maybe she hadn't fully come around yet. I looked around and noticed the recovery room was quite huge. And quite empty, just like me, the lady to my left, and one or two other beds. I shut my eyes again, and suddenly I was back in the ward I started in. I really don't remember falling asleep nor do I remember being wheeled back. Such a strange feeling.
And that's about it. I slowly recovered in the ward (slowly. VERY slowly.), surrounded by the same patients that were there beforehand (I was in the corner, and there was an old man in front of me, to the side and diagonally in front too. Funny, that.). I turned down tea or coffee, and asked for water. I also had a sandwich after what seemed like 12 hours of waiting (but it was probably about half an hour). Then I pretty much just laid there, too awake to sleep but too groggy to read my book.
My entire abdomen felt like a giant ache. Nothing felt really painful, but nothing felt very comfortable either. Eventually the nurse that drew blood earlier came by and took me to the bathroom to see if I could go. After a very hobbling walk there and much debating between different areas of my body, it turned out I could go, and I told the nurse such. She went to get the discharge paperwork and told me to get dressed.
I buzzed for help when I got back as the cannula syringe was still in my hand, and washing my hands in the bathroom caused it to leak. A nurse came and removed it quickly, I don't really think it was supposed to still be in, and I got dressed. Awkwardly.
I saw (awkwardly) in the chair and waited. Another nurse came by and took me to the ward next door, filled in some papers (apparently I am not allowed to operate heavy or light machinery, eat heavy foods or sign important legal documents in the next 48 hours), then my mum was phoned up. While she was on the way, the nurse explained what had happened in the operation, and that it seemed like a total success. The consultant, Mr Andrews, wants to see me again in 4 weeks, and I still have my CT scan next week. I was also told when I can remove my bandages, etc. Then I was taken home, and slept most of the time between then and now (very awkwardly).
So here I am, still bandaged up, one testicle down. I haven't looked at anything yet, as the bandages are pretty thorough (I am basically wearing a giant old lady's underwear made of bandage). I'm allowed to take them off tomorrow evening, but I have to be very careful for a week after that. No boiling hot baths. No stretching. Stuff like that.
I don't think that'll be a problem.
I had to get there around 11:30am, which I did. I felt fine, a little bit nervous but nothing major. Megan and my mum came in with me, but within 20 minutes I was called to a back room and they had to leave. Another attempt later (the first time the lady came to get me, she didn't actually tell us to come with her, and while I was saying bye, I got locked out of the room. A few more minutes waiting brought her back, though.) I was taken into a back room and showed to a bed.
The bed had upon it an open-backed robe, a large towel and a large sheet. The curtained-off room also contained a small empty blue crate and a small chair. I was not sure if I was supposed to change into the robe or not, so I just waited. After about 10 minutes of waiting I walked to the little reception that the ward had and asked, and was told that a nurse would come along and explain things soon. So I went back and waited.
Shortly, an "assistant to Mr Andrews" turned up. He introduced himself to everyone like that, no names. I thought that was pretty strange. He asked me some questions, basic ones about smoking/eating etc, then left pretty quickly. A little bizarre I thought, but whatever.
I'm glad I brought my book (still reading Wheel of Time) as I'd gotten through about 3 chapters before the nurse showed up. She got me to lay on the bed, and told me she had to take my blood pressure and, surprise surprise, a blood sample. Again. Apparently the sample they took in A&E didn't have "enough blood in it". Neat. So I talked her through the last attempts to draw blood, and how little success the other MK nurse had. I also had only drunk 1 cup of water that morning (I'm only allowed to drink 2 anyway, and I didn't think they'd be taking more blood!) so my veins didn't show up very well. So she stabbed me in the arm twice to no avail, then stabbed in in the hand twice too. Eventually she got some, and it was the slowest draining blood in the whole world ever. I never look, I always just stare at the ceiling, but my neck started to hurt so I looked. The vial was very slow at filling up, I tried relaxing, tried breathing deeper, but all that did was make me want to pass out.
She finally finished just in time, as I'm almost certain I would have passed out if I didn't lay down at that point. She apologized for how long it took, and told me to change into the robe when I feel better and the anaesthetist will be along shortly. I asked if I needed to remove all clothes first, and she told me I could keep my boxers on until they come to take me to the theatre. I also stupidly asked for some water to calm my nerves, but I wasn't allowed to drink anything else. Oh, also, she told me my blood pressure was kind of high, but she chalked that up to nervousness. Apparently I was more nervous than I felt.
After a short while I did change, the robe wasn't too uncomfortable although I had trouble tying up the second tie. The anaesthetist came in shortly, she didn't do anything other than double check questions I'd been asked before.. whether I smoke, whether I've ever smoked, if I use drugs, the last time I ate/drank, stuff like that. She seemed happy with the answers, and left saying she would "see me later". I guess she would!
Another few chapters later some other nurse came by just to check I was okay, and explained the procedure to me. I already knew how the op would go, and what he said sounded right, so I agreed to it. He then started to put up the side of my bed to take me away. He left after doing that, so when another nurse came by I told her I was still wearing my boxers. She agreed that wasn't a good idea for the procedure I was having, so she left while I took them off and laid back on the bed.
Then after a few more questions and another blood pressure test, I was off. I was taken to the operating theatre door, then the nurse went inside. He returned with the anaesthetist's assistant, who asked me the same questions again. She also asked how long it's been since I noticed the swelling, and how I noticed it. She asked about the USA and my wife, and then I realised she was just trying to chill me out. I got wheeled into the anaesthetist's room, and the woman from earlier was in there. A man who I am assuming was a surgeon was also in attendance. He double checked the op I was having, double checked which side, then after inspecting it, drew an arrow on my right leg. It's still on there now. Can't be too careful, I guess.
I had my blood pressure taken one last time (I swear it was taken like 54 times over the whole day), I had a cannula attached to my wrist, and I had a gas mask put on. As the anaesthetist told me it would be a matter of seconds, her assistant told me to think of something nice. Like my wife. I laughed as I closed my eyes. The last thing I saw was the clock pointing to 1:45pm.
Then, after what seemed like moments, I woke up in the recovery room. I can't really describe the feeling of waking up from anaesthetic. It's like your body is fighting to wake up, but your brain can't work fast enough. I think I handled it quite well, I just kept trying to raise my head but was finding it difficult to manage. A disembodied voice to my right told me where I was, and that the operation was all over. I tried to make a joke about it only being 5 seconds since I was in the anaesthetist's room, but I think it came out as a mumble.
A women in a bed to my left kept trying to turn over, and what I'm guessing was a nurse kept telling her she had to lay on her back. She just looked asleep. Maybe she hadn't fully come around yet. I looked around and noticed the recovery room was quite huge. And quite empty, just like me, the lady to my left, and one or two other beds. I shut my eyes again, and suddenly I was back in the ward I started in. I really don't remember falling asleep nor do I remember being wheeled back. Such a strange feeling.
And that's about it. I slowly recovered in the ward (slowly. VERY slowly.), surrounded by the same patients that were there beforehand (I was in the corner, and there was an old man in front of me, to the side and diagonally in front too. Funny, that.). I turned down tea or coffee, and asked for water. I also had a sandwich after what seemed like 12 hours of waiting (but it was probably about half an hour). Then I pretty much just laid there, too awake to sleep but too groggy to read my book.
My entire abdomen felt like a giant ache. Nothing felt really painful, but nothing felt very comfortable either. Eventually the nurse that drew blood earlier came by and took me to the bathroom to see if I could go. After a very hobbling walk there and much debating between different areas of my body, it turned out I could go, and I told the nurse such. She went to get the discharge paperwork and told me to get dressed.
I buzzed for help when I got back as the cannula syringe was still in my hand, and washing my hands in the bathroom caused it to leak. A nurse came and removed it quickly, I don't really think it was supposed to still be in, and I got dressed. Awkwardly.
I saw (awkwardly) in the chair and waited. Another nurse came by and took me to the ward next door, filled in some papers (apparently I am not allowed to operate heavy or light machinery, eat heavy foods or sign important legal documents in the next 48 hours), then my mum was phoned up. While she was on the way, the nurse explained what had happened in the operation, and that it seemed like a total success. The consultant, Mr Andrews, wants to see me again in 4 weeks, and I still have my CT scan next week. I was also told when I can remove my bandages, etc. Then I was taken home, and slept most of the time between then and now (very awkwardly).
So here I am, still bandaged up, one testicle down. I haven't looked at anything yet, as the bandages are pretty thorough (I am basically wearing a giant old lady's underwear made of bandage). I'm allowed to take them off tomorrow evening, but I have to be very careful for a week after that. No boiling hot baths. No stretching. Stuff like that.
I don't think that'll be a problem.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Day 19 & Day 20
Just a quick one before I head to bed.
Been back to CARE today, and everything went fine there. Two specimens will hopefully be enough, regardless of what happens.
Just over 12 hours until I have to be at the hospital.. still not really worried.
It's funny how things work, how coincidences form. I was playing a videogame yesterday, and at one point you go into a clinic/hospital. Patients are walking around, and doctors patrol the rooms between surgeries, etc. At one point, a patient and a doctor were having a conversation, and I overheard it.
The patient was asking the doctor about anaesthesia, and the process of it. He asked what it was, and if it was really stopping your heart and letting a machine breathe for you. The doctor said that could happen, depending on how you react under it. The patient then asked if you can dream, and the doctor said not during the surgery, but you may dream as you enter regular sleep after the surgery but before you wake up.
It was interesting as I have totally ignored the anaesthesia part of this so far. I've never been put under general, and have trouble sleeping normally, so now I'm a little edgey about it. But I'm sure it'll be fine. You just have to count backwards, and then you wake up in recovery, right?
The idea of waking up in a different room to the one I fall asleep in is scary. I wonder why.
Well, it'll soon all be over. Well, I hope it will be, anyway. This part will all be over. Then I can think about the future. I just wish I could fall asleep now and wake up with it all done. Bah, you never get anywhere just by wishing.
Roll on Wednesday.
Been back to CARE today, and everything went fine there. Two specimens will hopefully be enough, regardless of what happens.
Just over 12 hours until I have to be at the hospital.. still not really worried.
It's funny how things work, how coincidences form. I was playing a videogame yesterday, and at one point you go into a clinic/hospital. Patients are walking around, and doctors patrol the rooms between surgeries, etc. At one point, a patient and a doctor were having a conversation, and I overheard it.
The patient was asking the doctor about anaesthesia, and the process of it. He asked what it was, and if it was really stopping your heart and letting a machine breathe for you. The doctor said that could happen, depending on how you react under it. The patient then asked if you can dream, and the doctor said not during the surgery, but you may dream as you enter regular sleep after the surgery but before you wake up.
It was interesting as I have totally ignored the anaesthesia part of this so far. I've never been put under general, and have trouble sleeping normally, so now I'm a little edgey about it. But I'm sure it'll be fine. You just have to count backwards, and then you wake up in recovery, right?
The idea of waking up in a different room to the one I fall asleep in is scary. I wonder why.
Well, it'll soon all be over. Well, I hope it will be, anyway. This part will all be over. Then I can think about the future. I just wish I could fall asleep now and wake up with it all done. Bah, you never get anywhere just by wishing.
Roll on Wednesday.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Day 16, 17 & 18
Hello blog. Sorry I haven't been in touch.
Just been relaxing the last few days. Only thing I have to do before Tuesday is go back to CARE on Monday to give another specimen. After that, I'm set for Tuesday.
I have to get to the hospital for 11:45am on Tuesday, and I can eat up until 7am that morning. I should be in and out in the same day, then my CT scan is booked for 10:30am the next Wednesday, the 21st.
So, just lots of waiting around until then. And it's kind of scary. Each night I can feel myself getting a little more uncomfortable, and each day I can feel it a little more swollen. I don't know if it's my imagination at this point or not.
I read a little of the help pamphlet by MacMillan that I was given at the hospital. I only managed a little before I closed it. I understand what cancer is, and I understand that I have it, and that I need an operation and possibly further care to get rid of it. However, it's entirely different when you read about it in technical but very simple terms, about how it might be benign and just be cells reproducing at an alarming rate contained in one area, or how it may be malignant and cells may break off and travel elsewhere to multiply, causing several tumors, and it's different again when you read about tumor markers and sizes and what stage I might be at now and where exactly in the testes the growth started.. it's all wondering without knowing, and therefore I always assume the worst.
I hope I can find out something on Tuesday at least, after the surgery. I hope they can tell me what size the tumor was, and what weight was removed from me. I don't know why, but I feel the weight is important. I guess I want to know how much of me I am losing. Even if most of it is cancerous, it started as a normal body part, and it's my own cells that have been reproducing. It's still a part of me.
It's still weird being back in the UK. I think I got more used to the USA than I thought. Even if it wasn't my own money, I was used to having a set income, and I was used to knowing how much semi-disposable income we had. I got used to actually doing things, even cheap things like seeing dollar movies or getting cheap bad-for-you food. I think I even got used to the loud white noise of the air conditioner while trying to sleep.
Some of my online friends banded together to buy me a game on Steam, which I appreciate. It feels weird, people don't get me random gifts very often, but I do enjoy the sentiment. Hopefully it'll keep me busy during recovery.
Speaking of which, I don't know how long recovery is? The surgery involves cutting into my abdomen and uh.. fishing stuff out through there, so I don't know which part will hurt. It's odd not knowing what to expect. But I'm not scared. I feel like I should be, but I'm not scared.. of the surgery. Of losing a part of me, yes. Of the physical act of doing so, no.
Maybe I'll be scared come Tuesday morning.
Just been relaxing the last few days. Only thing I have to do before Tuesday is go back to CARE on Monday to give another specimen. After that, I'm set for Tuesday.
I have to get to the hospital for 11:45am on Tuesday, and I can eat up until 7am that morning. I should be in and out in the same day, then my CT scan is booked for 10:30am the next Wednesday, the 21st.
So, just lots of waiting around until then. And it's kind of scary. Each night I can feel myself getting a little more uncomfortable, and each day I can feel it a little more swollen. I don't know if it's my imagination at this point or not.
I read a little of the help pamphlet by MacMillan that I was given at the hospital. I only managed a little before I closed it. I understand what cancer is, and I understand that I have it, and that I need an operation and possibly further care to get rid of it. However, it's entirely different when you read about it in technical but very simple terms, about how it might be benign and just be cells reproducing at an alarming rate contained in one area, or how it may be malignant and cells may break off and travel elsewhere to multiply, causing several tumors, and it's different again when you read about tumor markers and sizes and what stage I might be at now and where exactly in the testes the growth started.. it's all wondering without knowing, and therefore I always assume the worst.
I hope I can find out something on Tuesday at least, after the surgery. I hope they can tell me what size the tumor was, and what weight was removed from me. I don't know why, but I feel the weight is important. I guess I want to know how much of me I am losing. Even if most of it is cancerous, it started as a normal body part, and it's my own cells that have been reproducing. It's still a part of me.
It's still weird being back in the UK. I think I got more used to the USA than I thought. Even if it wasn't my own money, I was used to having a set income, and I was used to knowing how much semi-disposable income we had. I got used to actually doing things, even cheap things like seeing dollar movies or getting cheap bad-for-you food. I think I even got used to the loud white noise of the air conditioner while trying to sleep.
Some of my online friends banded together to buy me a game on Steam, which I appreciate. It feels weird, people don't get me random gifts very often, but I do enjoy the sentiment. Hopefully it'll keep me busy during recovery.
Speaking of which, I don't know how long recovery is? The surgery involves cutting into my abdomen and uh.. fishing stuff out through there, so I don't know which part will hurt. It's odd not knowing what to expect. But I'm not scared. I feel like I should be, but I'm not scared.. of the surgery. Of losing a part of me, yes. Of the physical act of doing so, no.
Maybe I'll be scared come Tuesday morning.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Day 15
And I thought yesterday was busy.
Woke up at about 7am this morning, with the alarm set for 8. Felt apprehensive about the coming day. Apprehensive and tired.
Lazily got ready to go out, washed and ate cereal, made sure my phone was charged, etc.
Around 9:15 we headed out to my 9:30 ultrasound appointment. We got there with no problems, I went into the main entrance of the hospital and asked for directions, and within minutes I was at the main X-Ray department. I checked in and Megan and I took our seats.
Within minutes of getting there, I was being called away. I'm not sure why, but I was taken through the entire X-Ray department, through A&E and into the childrens' ultrasound room. I hopped up on the table and a doctor started the ultrasound itself, in a way very similar to the one I had in the USA. Near the end, another doctor came into the room, a Dr Green, I believe. He took over, and asked me what the USA doctor said about the other ultrasound. When I told him he was 95% sure about cancer, the doctor said there was no 95% about it. It was cancerous. He did inform me the other testes was fine, however. "Small compensation", he said, but to me that's a huge bonus.
So, after that was all done, we headed to the urology department, where I had been told my ultrasound results would be "within 10 minutes". Since my ultrasound took so little time, we arrived at the urology department 20 minutes early. We were sitting around until 30 minutes after my appointment was due.
Finally a Dr Choudhary saw me. He went over what the ultrasound found, tumorous material in the right testes. He had a feel around, which was much rougher than the other two doctors, and I still ache a little bit from it now. He asked me if the US doctor told me what was needed, and when I said an operation he agreed. Like Dr Berardanucci told me originally, they incise above in the groin area and remove it through the body, so I'll get a badass scar. He also asked if I wanted a prosthetic replacement. I hadn't really thought about it, but I said sure. Maybe it'll help with post-op feelings. Like a stress ball, you know?
Afterwards he did tell me it doesn't feel like it's spread, but only a CT scan would know for sure.
He then started to set up my appointments. He phoned what I assumed was the operations theatre and booked me an operation for Tuesday the 13th Sep. Not as early as planned but still pretty quick. He also set up a CT scan application for me, and told me it was "urgent". I thought he said it would be done very soon, but it's possible I misheard him. Read on..
After giving me some leaflets and my CT scan papers, he called a nurse in to direct me to a pre-assessment room. I had my blood pressure taken (like.. 5 different times overall, the machines didn't like me today), my weight and height taken, and then I was given a questionnaire to fill in about my general health.
I ticked high blood pressure and cough, as I was diagnosed with high blood pressure a few years ago when I started going to the gym, and I've had a cough since returning to the UK. I was called into another room with another nurse, who took my BP again then stuck some sticky pads to my chest and legs and hooked me up to a machine. I can't remember the name of the machine, but it was due to my slightly high BP. The pads didn't rip off nearly as much hair coming off as I'd predicted.
After that, I was ushered into room number 3, where yet another nurse walked me through the operation procedure. Depending on the time of the op (they will call me to let me know), I have to stop eating at a certain time, yadda-yadda-yadda. All I know is it's on Tuesday.
After aaaall of that, we walked to the other side of the hospital to book my CT scan. I phoned my mum in the meantime and asked her to contact CARE to let them know I might not be coming today, as the CT scan might take a long time. However, when I went to book in the scan, I was told it would be in 2 weeks, after the surgery. I questioned this, and asked why the doctor said it was "urgent" if it takes 2 weeks, but I was told that was normal procedure.
Confused, we walked back to the urology department, and the receptionist there basically told me that "urgent" translates to "in 2 weeks". It's a scan to find out if the cancer spread once they remove it, not before. I'd need to have one post-op anyway, so I wasn't too bothered.
So I phoned mum, she came and picked us up, and I came home. I was going to phone CARE, but I fell asleep. I feel so exhausted all the time at the moment. I'll phone them tomorrow, maybe I can re-book for Monday or something.
So that's my story so far. I feel tired and a mix of scared and relieved. Scared over the fact that this is happening at all, but relieved that it'll be over soon. I hope. Dr Choudhary told me I might need chemo or radiotherapy after the operation, depending on what they and the CT scan find. I hope not. I really hope not.
Come on, I already got cancer, that's enough punishment, right?
Woke up at about 7am this morning, with the alarm set for 8. Felt apprehensive about the coming day. Apprehensive and tired.
Lazily got ready to go out, washed and ate cereal, made sure my phone was charged, etc.
Around 9:15 we headed out to my 9:30 ultrasound appointment. We got there with no problems, I went into the main entrance of the hospital and asked for directions, and within minutes I was at the main X-Ray department. I checked in and Megan and I took our seats.
Within minutes of getting there, I was being called away. I'm not sure why, but I was taken through the entire X-Ray department, through A&E and into the childrens' ultrasound room. I hopped up on the table and a doctor started the ultrasound itself, in a way very similar to the one I had in the USA. Near the end, another doctor came into the room, a Dr Green, I believe. He took over, and asked me what the USA doctor said about the other ultrasound. When I told him he was 95% sure about cancer, the doctor said there was no 95% about it. It was cancerous. He did inform me the other testes was fine, however. "Small compensation", he said, but to me that's a huge bonus.
So, after that was all done, we headed to the urology department, where I had been told my ultrasound results would be "within 10 minutes". Since my ultrasound took so little time, we arrived at the urology department 20 minutes early. We were sitting around until 30 minutes after my appointment was due.
Finally a Dr Choudhary saw me. He went over what the ultrasound found, tumorous material in the right testes. He had a feel around, which was much rougher than the other two doctors, and I still ache a little bit from it now. He asked me if the US doctor told me what was needed, and when I said an operation he agreed. Like Dr Berardanucci told me originally, they incise above in the groin area and remove it through the body, so I'll get a badass scar. He also asked if I wanted a prosthetic replacement. I hadn't really thought about it, but I said sure. Maybe it'll help with post-op feelings. Like a stress ball, you know?
Afterwards he did tell me it doesn't feel like it's spread, but only a CT scan would know for sure.
He then started to set up my appointments. He phoned what I assumed was the operations theatre and booked me an operation for Tuesday the 13th Sep. Not as early as planned but still pretty quick. He also set up a CT scan application for me, and told me it was "urgent". I thought he said it would be done very soon, but it's possible I misheard him. Read on..
After giving me some leaflets and my CT scan papers, he called a nurse in to direct me to a pre-assessment room. I had my blood pressure taken (like.. 5 different times overall, the machines didn't like me today), my weight and height taken, and then I was given a questionnaire to fill in about my general health.
I ticked high blood pressure and cough, as I was diagnosed with high blood pressure a few years ago when I started going to the gym, and I've had a cough since returning to the UK. I was called into another room with another nurse, who took my BP again then stuck some sticky pads to my chest and legs and hooked me up to a machine. I can't remember the name of the machine, but it was due to my slightly high BP. The pads didn't rip off nearly as much hair coming off as I'd predicted.
After that, I was ushered into room number 3, where yet another nurse walked me through the operation procedure. Depending on the time of the op (they will call me to let me know), I have to stop eating at a certain time, yadda-yadda-yadda. All I know is it's on Tuesday.
After aaaall of that, we walked to the other side of the hospital to book my CT scan. I phoned my mum in the meantime and asked her to contact CARE to let them know I might not be coming today, as the CT scan might take a long time. However, when I went to book in the scan, I was told it would be in 2 weeks, after the surgery. I questioned this, and asked why the doctor said it was "urgent" if it takes 2 weeks, but I was told that was normal procedure.
Confused, we walked back to the urology department, and the receptionist there basically told me that "urgent" translates to "in 2 weeks". It's a scan to find out if the cancer spread once they remove it, not before. I'd need to have one post-op anyway, so I wasn't too bothered.
So I phoned mum, she came and picked us up, and I came home. I was going to phone CARE, but I fell asleep. I feel so exhausted all the time at the moment. I'll phone them tomorrow, maybe I can re-book for Monday or something.
So that's my story so far. I feel tired and a mix of scared and relieved. Scared over the fact that this is happening at all, but relieved that it'll be over soon. I hope. Dr Choudhary told me I might need chemo or radiotherapy after the operation, depending on what they and the CT scan find. I hope not. I really hope not.
Come on, I already got cancer, that's enough punishment, right?
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Day 14
Fun day today.
Woke up early in time to go to Northampton to visit the CARE fertility clinic for 10:00am. Had no real problems finding it, thanks to Google maps. The lady I spoke to on the phone was in reception, so she went over the basic order of how things will happen, then showed Megan, my mother and I to the waiting room.
We waited for a few minutes. There were free biscuits and drinks there, first British biscuits I've had since I've been back. Good ol' digestives. I was the only man in the waiting room funnily enough.
After a few minutes a nurse came in to take me to a room upstairs, where I had to uh.. deposit a specimen. The help they give you to obtain this, in the form of magazines, were hilarious. There was also a chair AND a clinical bed in the small room. Something for all tastes, huh?
Anyway, I wont go into details in that. I did have to write the time of specimen on the little jar afterwards, though, then headed back downstairs to hand it to the nurse at reception.
Another few minutes of the waiting room later, the same nurse came to take my bloods. She had a much easier time than the nurse at the hospital the day prior, getting it on the first try. I didn't get woozy or anything. Maybe I'm getting used to needles? She told me they only take bloods to make sure they aren't storing any HIV/Hepatitis contaminated specimens.
Yet another few minutes later, another nurse (or was it an embryo specialist?) came to talk me through the consent forms that I needed to sign. All your normal stuff, that I consented to them checking my bloods, that I consented to my specimens being frozen for 10 years, that I knew exactly what was going on, etc. A few strange parts though: first of all, I had to specify my partner in the case that I die or go insane and am not in the position to offer consent myself at the time. Fair enough. The other was far stranger though, I had to consent to the fact that my name can be on the birth certificate of any child born this way. If I didn't sign that, it would show up as Father: Unknown. How spooky! I was tempted to leave it unsigned, but I decided maybe signing it would be for the best.
After signing everything, the nurse explained what would happen next. They would test my specimen to make sure I actually produced what I needed to produce. No point freezing blanks, right? And my condition may have caused my bits to stop producing. Once they've checked it, they'd phone me back to let me know.
With that, we left, after Megan filled in a contact info form in case the worst happens. We drove all the way back and pretty much relaxed the rest of the day. Went shopping, and I tried to mentally prepare for tomorrow. I don't think I succeeded very well.
Anyway, a few hours after getting home, they phoned back. Apparently what I left them was fine, and I had a 13-count of something something something, which apparently is a good number. Well, that's great. They did suggest I go back there tomorrow to make another deposit, as they like to have backups even if they have a good amount. So I'm going back tomorrow afternoon, after my morning appointments.
Hopefully after all those appointments tomorrow, that will be it until the surgery. I hope so. I am getting tired of this now.
Not to mention I picked up a cold somewhere along the lines, be it in Texas, at the airports, in the A&E waiting room, or just running around in the rain after almost forgetting what it looked like.
Ugh, let's just hope I don't sneeze while being operated on. That can't happen, right?!
Woke up early in time to go to Northampton to visit the CARE fertility clinic for 10:00am. Had no real problems finding it, thanks to Google maps. The lady I spoke to on the phone was in reception, so she went over the basic order of how things will happen, then showed Megan, my mother and I to the waiting room.
We waited for a few minutes. There were free biscuits and drinks there, first British biscuits I've had since I've been back. Good ol' digestives. I was the only man in the waiting room funnily enough.
After a few minutes a nurse came in to take me to a room upstairs, where I had to uh.. deposit a specimen. The help they give you to obtain this, in the form of magazines, were hilarious. There was also a chair AND a clinical bed in the small room. Something for all tastes, huh?
Anyway, I wont go into details in that. I did have to write the time of specimen on the little jar afterwards, though, then headed back downstairs to hand it to the nurse at reception.
Another few minutes of the waiting room later, the same nurse came to take my bloods. She had a much easier time than the nurse at the hospital the day prior, getting it on the first try. I didn't get woozy or anything. Maybe I'm getting used to needles? She told me they only take bloods to make sure they aren't storing any HIV/Hepatitis contaminated specimens.
Yet another few minutes later, another nurse (or was it an embryo specialist?) came to talk me through the consent forms that I needed to sign. All your normal stuff, that I consented to them checking my bloods, that I consented to my specimens being frozen for 10 years, that I knew exactly what was going on, etc. A few strange parts though: first of all, I had to specify my partner in the case that I die or go insane and am not in the position to offer consent myself at the time. Fair enough. The other was far stranger though, I had to consent to the fact that my name can be on the birth certificate of any child born this way. If I didn't sign that, it would show up as Father: Unknown. How spooky! I was tempted to leave it unsigned, but I decided maybe signing it would be for the best.
After signing everything, the nurse explained what would happen next. They would test my specimen to make sure I actually produced what I needed to produce. No point freezing blanks, right? And my condition may have caused my bits to stop producing. Once they've checked it, they'd phone me back to let me know.
With that, we left, after Megan filled in a contact info form in case the worst happens. We drove all the way back and pretty much relaxed the rest of the day. Went shopping, and I tried to mentally prepare for tomorrow. I don't think I succeeded very well.
Anyway, a few hours after getting home, they phoned back. Apparently what I left them was fine, and I had a 13-count of something something something, which apparently is a good number. Well, that's great. They did suggest I go back there tomorrow to make another deposit, as they like to have backups even if they have a good amount. So I'm going back tomorrow afternoon, after my morning appointments.
Hopefully after all those appointments tomorrow, that will be it until the surgery. I hope so. I am getting tired of this now.
Not to mention I picked up a cold somewhere along the lines, be it in Texas, at the airports, in the A&E waiting room, or just running around in the rain after almost forgetting what it looked like.
Ugh, let's just hope I don't sneeze while being operated on. That can't happen, right?!
Monday, September 5, 2011
Day 13
Possible the last lazy day for a while..
Woke up super early this morning. Neither Megan nor I are sleeping very well. Well, not at night, anyway. We both decided to stop trying to sleep and wake up at 4am this morning, but since then she has spent 90% of the day in bed. I worry she is coming down with something other than jetlag. Great.
We ate cereal for breakfast, and she fell back asleep. I found that CARE fertility place, and phoned the Milton Keynes office. I was struck by an answering machine message, so I left my number and hung up. Around midday, she phoned back, but I was in the bathroom, my mother was outside, and Megan was half asleep, so she ended up leaving a message for me to call back. We played phone ping pong for an hour or two, until I finally ended up speaking to her around 1pm.
Turns out the MK office cannot do anything for me, and I needed to phone the Northampton headquarters. I did so, got put through to admin, who told me I needed a referral, be it from a GP or a hospital, to use their service. But they put me through to the lab to explain the procedure. Lab however started putting me back through to admin, so at that point I hung up and attempted to call the consultant doctor who saw me yesterday in A&E to ask about a referral.
Somewhere around this time, MK hospital called me up to confirm my ultrasound for 9:30am on Wednesday. Yay. Anyway, I started called Mr Ajuwon on the number he gave me.
Nobody picked up, it just rang forever. Getting rather frustrated, and unable to ask Megan for advice (she was still zzzzzzz), I went downstairs, but as I started to explain the situation to my mum, CARE called back. Someone from the lab explained exactly what I needed, two things: a) a referral from the hospital, and b) funding from the PCT (primary care trust) who governs MK hospital. I provided some details and she went to work acquiring B and left me to get A from the number I had been given the day before.
So I called Mr Ajuwon again and just waited on the line. After about 10 minutes of rings, he picked up. I explained my case and he told me I really needed to phone Mr Anderson, the urologist I was going to be seeing. He gives me a number and tells me to call and that he faxed all my info over to his secretary earlier. So, I do so.
A lady picks up, I explain my case for the 94th time, and she tells me I'd get a referral when I see the urologist, and that he wants to see me on Wednesday after my ultrasound. I guess to decide if I am 100% having surgery or not. She also mentions if I do have surgery, it'll be next week. Great. I hang up, and within 10 minutes the appointment section of MK hospital phones to confirm my urologist appointment for 10:30am Wednesday, after my ultrasound.
Whilst trying to explain all this to Megan, CARE phone me back to ask how I got on. I explain I will get a referral on Wednesday, and she tells me she got funding from the PCT already. They want me to come in two times, one time tomorrow, Tuesday, at 10:00am, and once on Wednesday but I'll arrange that tomorrow.
So yeah, busy few days coming up. Makes me feel a little sick when I think about it, but in 48 hours I will know so much more about what's happening.
Unfortunately, I got so exhausted around 5pm that I laid down next to Megan. It's now 8:30pm and I slept past the time we were going to order Chinese food. Oh well, more sandwiches, I guess.
Woke up super early this morning. Neither Megan nor I are sleeping very well. Well, not at night, anyway. We both decided to stop trying to sleep and wake up at 4am this morning, but since then she has spent 90% of the day in bed. I worry she is coming down with something other than jetlag. Great.
We ate cereal for breakfast, and she fell back asleep. I found that CARE fertility place, and phoned the Milton Keynes office. I was struck by an answering machine message, so I left my number and hung up. Around midday, she phoned back, but I was in the bathroom, my mother was outside, and Megan was half asleep, so she ended up leaving a message for me to call back. We played phone ping pong for an hour or two, until I finally ended up speaking to her around 1pm.
Turns out the MK office cannot do anything for me, and I needed to phone the Northampton headquarters. I did so, got put through to admin, who told me I needed a referral, be it from a GP or a hospital, to use their service. But they put me through to the lab to explain the procedure. Lab however started putting me back through to admin, so at that point I hung up and attempted to call the consultant doctor who saw me yesterday in A&E to ask about a referral.
Somewhere around this time, MK hospital called me up to confirm my ultrasound for 9:30am on Wednesday. Yay. Anyway, I started called Mr Ajuwon on the number he gave me.
Nobody picked up, it just rang forever. Getting rather frustrated, and unable to ask Megan for advice (she was still zzzzzzz), I went downstairs, but as I started to explain the situation to my mum, CARE called back. Someone from the lab explained exactly what I needed, two things: a) a referral from the hospital, and b) funding from the PCT (primary care trust) who governs MK hospital. I provided some details and she went to work acquiring B and left me to get A from the number I had been given the day before.
So I called Mr Ajuwon again and just waited on the line. After about 10 minutes of rings, he picked up. I explained my case and he told me I really needed to phone Mr Anderson, the urologist I was going to be seeing. He gives me a number and tells me to call and that he faxed all my info over to his secretary earlier. So, I do so.
A lady picks up, I explain my case for the 94th time, and she tells me I'd get a referral when I see the urologist, and that he wants to see me on Wednesday after my ultrasound. I guess to decide if I am 100% having surgery or not. She also mentions if I do have surgery, it'll be next week. Great. I hang up, and within 10 minutes the appointment section of MK hospital phones to confirm my urologist appointment for 10:30am Wednesday, after my ultrasound.
Whilst trying to explain all this to Megan, CARE phone me back to ask how I got on. I explain I will get a referral on Wednesday, and she tells me she got funding from the PCT already. They want me to come in two times, one time tomorrow, Tuesday, at 10:00am, and once on Wednesday but I'll arrange that tomorrow.
So yeah, busy few days coming up. Makes me feel a little sick when I think about it, but in 48 hours I will know so much more about what's happening.
Unfortunately, I got so exhausted around 5pm that I laid down next to Megan. It's now 8:30pm and I slept past the time we were going to order Chinese food. Oh well, more sandwiches, I guess.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Day 12
Wow, actual cancer news for once!
Went to MK hospital today. Got there at about noon, and talked to the receptionist. She said really I should wait until Monday and be referred through my GP, but she said she'll put me through to the nurse and take it from there.
So we sat, Megan and I, in the A&E waiting room. We waited a while, saw a bunch of limping Brits, then I was called in. I told the nurse my story, showed her a copy of my USA ultrasound results, and she took a copy herself. She wrote everything down, then said she was going to put me through to the clinic and told me to go take a seat again.
So we waited again. We waited and waited, saw more limping Brits go in and out, and had one really annoying loud sweary chav family come in, shout a lot, sit around impatiently, argue amongst themselves, and then eventually I got called into the clinic.
I talked to an A&E doctor, a Dr Richard Ajuwon. He felt around and read my ultrasound results, and basically agreed with what Dr Berardinucci had said a week prior. He took a urine sample, and got a nurse to try to take a blood sample. Two attempts and four holes on my arm later, she gave up and told the doctor, who then proceeded to take some blood on the first try. He said the urine test came back fine, and told me how things will likely proceed from here.
I will be getting a call some time this week to take another ultrasound. As expected, the UK needs to do their own test, although the USA results probably helped get this all sped up. He predicted it would be done this Wednesday, but that's unknown until it's booked.
He also predicted I would be undergoing surgery come Thursday. Not much time to prepare, but I just want this out of me at this point. I'm sure there will be scans and all kinds of stuff after that, but that's where our conversation ended. Again, not a confirmed date, merely a prediction based on what usually happens to cancer patients.
He also said I should have gone to my GP first, and then something about a two-week waiting period after being referred for all cancer related patients? I must have misunderstood, as that seems insane. Regardless, I am glad I have skipped that by showing up at the A&E today.
So now it's just a waiting game again, and I have to make sure my mobile phone stays switched on. Fun fun.
Oh, and he also suggested I contact a place called CARE, a fertility clinic in Northampton, about getting a specimen frozen before anything is removed. I'll do that in the morning.
I wonder if they ship internationally?
Went to MK hospital today. Got there at about noon, and talked to the receptionist. She said really I should wait until Monday and be referred through my GP, but she said she'll put me through to the nurse and take it from there.
So we sat, Megan and I, in the A&E waiting room. We waited a while, saw a bunch of limping Brits, then I was called in. I told the nurse my story, showed her a copy of my USA ultrasound results, and she took a copy herself. She wrote everything down, then said she was going to put me through to the clinic and told me to go take a seat again.
So we waited again. We waited and waited, saw more limping Brits go in and out, and had one really annoying loud sweary chav family come in, shout a lot, sit around impatiently, argue amongst themselves, and then eventually I got called into the clinic.
I talked to an A&E doctor, a Dr Richard Ajuwon. He felt around and read my ultrasound results, and basically agreed with what Dr Berardinucci had said a week prior. He took a urine sample, and got a nurse to try to take a blood sample. Two attempts and four holes on my arm later, she gave up and told the doctor, who then proceeded to take some blood on the first try. He said the urine test came back fine, and told me how things will likely proceed from here.
I will be getting a call some time this week to take another ultrasound. As expected, the UK needs to do their own test, although the USA results probably helped get this all sped up. He predicted it would be done this Wednesday, but that's unknown until it's booked.
He also predicted I would be undergoing surgery come Thursday. Not much time to prepare, but I just want this out of me at this point. I'm sure there will be scans and all kinds of stuff after that, but that's where our conversation ended. Again, not a confirmed date, merely a prediction based on what usually happens to cancer patients.
He also said I should have gone to my GP first, and then something about a two-week waiting period after being referred for all cancer related patients? I must have misunderstood, as that seems insane. Regardless, I am glad I have skipped that by showing up at the A&E today.
So now it's just a waiting game again, and I have to make sure my mobile phone stays switched on. Fun fun.
Oh, and he also suggested I contact a place called CARE, a fertility clinic in Northampton, about getting a specimen frozen before anything is removed. I'll do that in the morning.
I wonder if they ship internationally?
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Day 10 and Day 11
I am in the UK! Hooray! I guess.
Got to the Houston airport at 9:00am Texas time on Friday. Got through security, got onto a plane, and got to Washington between 2 and 3 pm Washington time. Continental flights kind of suck. It was an old plane, it was cramped and it was dull. But it served its purpose.
Got to our next gate and waited until 6pm to board our flight to London. I went to the desk and explained our escapade with the tickets and the seats and asked if Megan and I could be seated next to each other. The lady said she would "see what they could do".
They started calling large swathes of people to the desk, 10 or so at a time. The monitors flashed different lists of names in three lists: Those with confirmed seats, those with unconfirmed seats, and those on standby. I didn't see our names at all. We waited until everyone started boarding, and as we scanned our boarding passes, our seats were changed. We could sit next to each other after all!
Oh the plane, we were seated right at the front of economy plus. Plus: Even more leg room. Just two seats, nobody sitting next to us. Cons: Have to use that terrible fold-under entertainment monitor and tray table. My monitor wouldn't stay up, and the entertainment was so awful (like.. 5 or 6 movies and 3 TV shows) that I didn't care anyway.
We sat, talked, tried to sleep and failed, watch a guy dance around for like 20 minutes because we don't think he knew where the bathroom was, and then we were in London.
Immigration went fine, Megan is allowed in for 6 months. The lines, even for UK passports, were hideous at Terminal 1, but we got through quick enough. While she was going through immigration, I went to the baggage area to try to reclaim our lost bags.
The lady at that counter said they were over in Terminal 4, but that they had to be shipped to us. I didn't argue, I just filled in the paperwork, and she said they would be delivered to us, hopefully that evening.
So I phoned my mum and asked her to come pick us up, now that we were through customs and done with our baggage queries. We went outside to the passenger drop-off area to await pickup. It was funny hearing so many British accents again, I heard more than normal at the airport, but actually standing outside in London was different. So many "Awwight, mate?"s was different after a few months of "howdy"s.
So, we got picked up and I think we both snoozed a bit on the way back to the house. My original plan was to go back home then immediately out again to the hospital, but it turned out I was just too tired. We ate, snoozed, snoozed some more, woke up at 8pm, unpacked a little, and here we are. While we were snoozing, our bags were delivered, so now we just need to unpack a little more.
My thoughts so far are mixed. I am glad to finally be back, and glad I can finally get some medical attention. I am happy to be home and see my mum again, but at the same time I already miss the USA. It was nice having a whole house.. well, almost a house, rather than just one room. I also feel sorry for Megan, being basically caught up in all this. She quit her job, she left her home, her car, her freedom, all for me. It just doesn't seem worth it.
Still, only time will tell what'll happen. I'll update tomorrow after sitting in A&E for several hours to let people know what's going on.
Got to the Houston airport at 9:00am Texas time on Friday. Got through security, got onto a plane, and got to Washington between 2 and 3 pm Washington time. Continental flights kind of suck. It was an old plane, it was cramped and it was dull. But it served its purpose.
Got to our next gate and waited until 6pm to board our flight to London. I went to the desk and explained our escapade with the tickets and the seats and asked if Megan and I could be seated next to each other. The lady said she would "see what they could do".
They started calling large swathes of people to the desk, 10 or so at a time. The monitors flashed different lists of names in three lists: Those with confirmed seats, those with unconfirmed seats, and those on standby. I didn't see our names at all. We waited until everyone started boarding, and as we scanned our boarding passes, our seats were changed. We could sit next to each other after all!
Oh the plane, we were seated right at the front of economy plus. Plus: Even more leg room. Just two seats, nobody sitting next to us. Cons: Have to use that terrible fold-under entertainment monitor and tray table. My monitor wouldn't stay up, and the entertainment was so awful (like.. 5 or 6 movies and 3 TV shows) that I didn't care anyway.
We sat, talked, tried to sleep and failed, watch a guy dance around for like 20 minutes because we don't think he knew where the bathroom was, and then we were in London.
Immigration went fine, Megan is allowed in for 6 months. The lines, even for UK passports, were hideous at Terminal 1, but we got through quick enough. While she was going through immigration, I went to the baggage area to try to reclaim our lost bags.
The lady at that counter said they were over in Terminal 4, but that they had to be shipped to us. I didn't argue, I just filled in the paperwork, and she said they would be delivered to us, hopefully that evening.
So I phoned my mum and asked her to come pick us up, now that we were through customs and done with our baggage queries. We went outside to the passenger drop-off area to await pickup. It was funny hearing so many British accents again, I heard more than normal at the airport, but actually standing outside in London was different. So many "Awwight, mate?"s was different after a few months of "howdy"s.
So, we got picked up and I think we both snoozed a bit on the way back to the house. My original plan was to go back home then immediately out again to the hospital, but it turned out I was just too tired. We ate, snoozed, snoozed some more, woke up at 8pm, unpacked a little, and here we are. While we were snoozing, our bags were delivered, so now we just need to unpack a little more.
My thoughts so far are mixed. I am glad to finally be back, and glad I can finally get some medical attention. I am happy to be home and see my mum again, but at the same time I already miss the USA. It was nice having a whole house.. well, almost a house, rather than just one room. I also feel sorry for Megan, being basically caught up in all this. She quit her job, she left her home, her car, her freedom, all for me. It just doesn't seem worth it.
Still, only time will tell what'll happen. I'll update tomorrow after sitting in A&E for several hours to let people know what's going on.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Day 8 and Day 9
Two day post extravaganza!
Nothing really happened yesterday (the uh.. 31st Aug). We lazed around, waiting for Friday. I bought a new shirt, and some shorts. I think we probably went out to eat. It seems so long ago.
Today.. or.. damn, yesterday, rather, (it's just after midnight here).. the 1st Sep, we did a lot of the same, although I did have another little adventure, I guess.
We went out for lunch, Megan and I, with Megan's brother Eddie and his common-law wife. We went out for sushi. It was quite nice, and they treated us. I'm going to miss the different types of food they do here, although we have an entire sushi place in Milton Keynes it isn't up to scratch with what they have here.
After we went shopping, where I think I injured myself slightly by uh.. rearranging myself. I guess it was just trying to remind me "hey, I'm still injured, get me sorted out!". Kinda felt like I got kicked in the balls. As if I could forget, it doesn't need to keep reminding me!
But anyway afterwards we came home and lazed around for a while. Then Megan reminded me to book seats on our multiple flights tomorrow. So I grab all the confusing itinerary the lovely black lady printed off for me last night, and sat in front of the computer.
Our first flight, the one from Houston to Dulles, Washington, was no problem. We're flying Continental, booked by Continental. I had two separate emails sitting in my inbox, one for my ticket, one for hers. I thought that was a little weird, but I managed to put our passport details in and book seats next to each other (with me in an aisle seat, hah). No problem.
Then came the longer flight, from Washington to London. Flying United Airlines, booked by Continental. No problem, I thought, they are two companies merging together, surely they must function the same, right?
Wrong. I managed to book a seat for myself, although I had to pay $89 extra for an "Economy Plus" seat, as all the Economy seats were taken, and there was no way I was taking a risk and getting to the airport just to be told the plane was overbooked. Popped in my passport details, all done.
Tried to log in as Megan.. her info came up, but I couldn't check in. It kept flashing up an error stating that without return flight information, the UK would not allow her to check in. Of course, we have return flight information, but it's booked through Continental, not United Airlines.
After trying several times, I give up. I explain to Megan we'll just have to deal with it at the airport, but she decides to call United Airlines (UA) instead. She's told she has to speak to Continental. I try to explain it myself, but I'm also told we need to speak to Continental. We phoned Continental. We are told we need to speak to UA, and are put through to UA. The UA rep is more helpful this time, but tells us we are basically out of luck and need to talk to a Continental spokesperson at the airport.
Alright, we decide, the airport is open 24/7 and we are going that way to re-print our boarding information (including return flight, in case Megan is questioned at the UK border). We head down there, and queue up at the Airline Express Continental kiosk, as the regular kiosk is unmanned.
A handsome suited black guy behind us asked if we were queued up. I guess two people in trashy t-shirts and shorts don't really seem the type to be queued at the Express lane. A rep asks us if we need to check in, so I tell him I need some advise. I explain the situation briefly, and he hands us over to a short but wide Latino woman for help.
I explain the situation, almost tripping up a few times (it's a very complicated story!) and she tries her hardest to book us seats next to each other. In the end, she failed too, but she did manage to give Megan a seat in the same area as mine. She told me to talk to the flight attendants once I get to Dulles, or if all else fails try to exchange seats on the plane. Shouldn't be a problem, people always swap seats once they get settled and all passengers are on. She did upgrade Megan to Economy Plus though, and didn't mention the $89 fee. So that's good. We got a free re-booking, and a free upgrade for one of us. Not bad.
So all our tickets are now printed, and she assured us that our bags are still chilling out in the UK, and that we just need to show our claim receipt once we get there. So who knows, maybe I will get home after all.
Then, on Saturday, since my GP will be closed, I am going to head straight to the A&E department at MK hospital and wait. And wait. And wait. And then maybe I'll get seen. I just hope all this delaying hasn't damaged anything.
I tried, that's enough, right?
Nothing really happened yesterday (the uh.. 31st Aug). We lazed around, waiting for Friday. I bought a new shirt, and some shorts. I think we probably went out to eat. It seems so long ago.
Today.. or.. damn, yesterday, rather, (it's just after midnight here).. the 1st Sep, we did a lot of the same, although I did have another little adventure, I guess.
We went out for lunch, Megan and I, with Megan's brother Eddie and his common-law wife. We went out for sushi. It was quite nice, and they treated us. I'm going to miss the different types of food they do here, although we have an entire sushi place in Milton Keynes it isn't up to scratch with what they have here.
After we went shopping, where I think I injured myself slightly by uh.. rearranging myself. I guess it was just trying to remind me "hey, I'm still injured, get me sorted out!". Kinda felt like I got kicked in the balls. As if I could forget, it doesn't need to keep reminding me!
But anyway afterwards we came home and lazed around for a while. Then Megan reminded me to book seats on our multiple flights tomorrow. So I grab all the confusing itinerary the lovely black lady printed off for me last night, and sat in front of the computer.
Our first flight, the one from Houston to Dulles, Washington, was no problem. We're flying Continental, booked by Continental. I had two separate emails sitting in my inbox, one for my ticket, one for hers. I thought that was a little weird, but I managed to put our passport details in and book seats next to each other (with me in an aisle seat, hah). No problem.
Then came the longer flight, from Washington to London. Flying United Airlines, booked by Continental. No problem, I thought, they are two companies merging together, surely they must function the same, right?
Wrong. I managed to book a seat for myself, although I had to pay $89 extra for an "Economy Plus" seat, as all the Economy seats were taken, and there was no way I was taking a risk and getting to the airport just to be told the plane was overbooked. Popped in my passport details, all done.
Tried to log in as Megan.. her info came up, but I couldn't check in. It kept flashing up an error stating that without return flight information, the UK would not allow her to check in. Of course, we have return flight information, but it's booked through Continental, not United Airlines.
After trying several times, I give up. I explain to Megan we'll just have to deal with it at the airport, but she decides to call United Airlines (UA) instead. She's told she has to speak to Continental. I try to explain it myself, but I'm also told we need to speak to Continental. We phoned Continental. We are told we need to speak to UA, and are put through to UA. The UA rep is more helpful this time, but tells us we are basically out of luck and need to talk to a Continental spokesperson at the airport.
Alright, we decide, the airport is open 24/7 and we are going that way to re-print our boarding information (including return flight, in case Megan is questioned at the UK border). We head down there, and queue up at the Airline Express Continental kiosk, as the regular kiosk is unmanned.
A handsome suited black guy behind us asked if we were queued up. I guess two people in trashy t-shirts and shorts don't really seem the type to be queued at the Express lane. A rep asks us if we need to check in, so I tell him I need some advise. I explain the situation briefly, and he hands us over to a short but wide Latino woman for help.
I explain the situation, almost tripping up a few times (it's a very complicated story!) and she tries her hardest to book us seats next to each other. In the end, she failed too, but she did manage to give Megan a seat in the same area as mine. She told me to talk to the flight attendants once I get to Dulles, or if all else fails try to exchange seats on the plane. Shouldn't be a problem, people always swap seats once they get settled and all passengers are on. She did upgrade Megan to Economy Plus though, and didn't mention the $89 fee. So that's good. We got a free re-booking, and a free upgrade for one of us. Not bad.
So all our tickets are now printed, and she assured us that our bags are still chilling out in the UK, and that we just need to show our claim receipt once we get there. So who knows, maybe I will get home after all.
Then, on Saturday, since my GP will be closed, I am going to head straight to the A&E department at MK hospital and wait. And wait. And wait. And then maybe I'll get seen. I just hope all this delaying hasn't damaged anything.
I tried, that's enough, right?
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Day 7
Oh my.
So, has anyone ever been put on "standby" if they miss their flight? I didn't even know about it until today. What an experience.
So we got put on standby for both of the flights heading to Heathrow from Houston today. One was flying out at 3:45pm, the other at 6:25pm. For those who do not know, like myself up until today, being put on standby basically means you sit around and hope that someone doesn't turn up or cancels their ticket, then you take their place.
Well, we tried that. We got to the airport around noon, checked in as per normal, got a giant preztel inside the airport (those things are salty!) and then waited. And waited. And waited. Around 3pm, it is announced that there is a problem with the plane. At 3:45, it's announced there is still a problem. At 4:15, it's announced again. At about 4:30, they begin boarding. At 4:45, they announced that there was no more room and all standby passengers were being rolled over to the 6:25 flight in the hopes that there will be room.
Around 10 minutes later I got up and asked the lady at the check-in desk if there was anything I could do. She told me to speak to customer service, as she had to get ready for the next flight. She did let me know that the 6:25 flight only had 1 cancellation so far, and at least 9 people wanting the seat. I guess the hurricane messed up a lot of peoples plans.
We, Megan and I, walked down to customer service. I was ready to pay the difference, I was expecting at least another $1000, and actually book my tickets for later in the week. It was either that or come back every day between now and whenever I finally get a standby seat. It might have been soon, it might have been later. It most definitely would have been a single seat. I'm sick of flying alone :(.
So I got called to the customer service desk and explained my story to a nice large black lady behind the counter. I explain that we got put on standby, but that I have a medical emergency and cannot afford to come to the airport every day in the hopes of a seat. I tell her I need two seats for as soon as possible. She clicks away on the computer, and comes up with some news.
I now have two seats for Friday, leaving Houston at 11:35am, landing in Washington DC for a 3 hour stayover at 4pm, then landing in the UK finally at 6:30am Saturday morning. I think we'll get to the airport at like 9am. I'm not taking any chances on this one.
Oh, and it didn't cost anything extra. The lady thought we were delayed by the hurricane. She didn't ask why or how we "missed" our flight. I think she has had so many people messed up by Irene that she just assumed we were similar. She even started asking about if we had accommodation in Houston or if she needed to sort that too - I explained my wife lives locally so all I need are tickets. She printed them off, and we headed to baggage reclaim to get our bags back and wait until Friday.
Unfortunately, by the time I write this, our bags should be landing in Heathrow. Somehow, they flew without us. The lady in the baggage claim area explained that Heathrow hold onto bags, so when we get there on Saturday morning they should still be there. I hope so. But honestly, it's the least of my worries right now. I'm just glad I can still come home, and that it didn't cost me as much as the surgery would have here.
Now if I can just hold on until then, all will be fine. I just want to thank the random black customer service lady for giving me the chance.
Thank you, random black customer service lady.
So, has anyone ever been put on "standby" if they miss their flight? I didn't even know about it until today. What an experience.
So we got put on standby for both of the flights heading to Heathrow from Houston today. One was flying out at 3:45pm, the other at 6:25pm. For those who do not know, like myself up until today, being put on standby basically means you sit around and hope that someone doesn't turn up or cancels their ticket, then you take their place.
Well, we tried that. We got to the airport around noon, checked in as per normal, got a giant preztel inside the airport (those things are salty!) and then waited. And waited. And waited. Around 3pm, it is announced that there is a problem with the plane. At 3:45, it's announced there is still a problem. At 4:15, it's announced again. At about 4:30, they begin boarding. At 4:45, they announced that there was no more room and all standby passengers were being rolled over to the 6:25 flight in the hopes that there will be room.
Around 10 minutes later I got up and asked the lady at the check-in desk if there was anything I could do. She told me to speak to customer service, as she had to get ready for the next flight. She did let me know that the 6:25 flight only had 1 cancellation so far, and at least 9 people wanting the seat. I guess the hurricane messed up a lot of peoples plans.
We, Megan and I, walked down to customer service. I was ready to pay the difference, I was expecting at least another $1000, and actually book my tickets for later in the week. It was either that or come back every day between now and whenever I finally get a standby seat. It might have been soon, it might have been later. It most definitely would have been a single seat. I'm sick of flying alone :(.
So I got called to the customer service desk and explained my story to a nice large black lady behind the counter. I explain that we got put on standby, but that I have a medical emergency and cannot afford to come to the airport every day in the hopes of a seat. I tell her I need two seats for as soon as possible. She clicks away on the computer, and comes up with some news.
I now have two seats for Friday, leaving Houston at 11:35am, landing in Washington DC for a 3 hour stayover at 4pm, then landing in the UK finally at 6:30am Saturday morning. I think we'll get to the airport at like 9am. I'm not taking any chances on this one.
Oh, and it didn't cost anything extra. The lady thought we were delayed by the hurricane. She didn't ask why or how we "missed" our flight. I think she has had so many people messed up by Irene that she just assumed we were similar. She even started asking about if we had accommodation in Houston or if she needed to sort that too - I explained my wife lives locally so all I need are tickets. She printed them off, and we headed to baggage reclaim to get our bags back and wait until Friday.
Unfortunately, by the time I write this, our bags should be landing in Heathrow. Somehow, they flew without us. The lady in the baggage claim area explained that Heathrow hold onto bags, so when we get there on Saturday morning they should still be there. I hope so. But honestly, it's the least of my worries right now. I'm just glad I can still come home, and that it didn't cost me as much as the surgery would have here.
Now if I can just hold on until then, all will be fine. I just want to thank the random black customer service lady for giving me the chance.
Thank you, random black customer service lady.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Day 6.5
Well, looks like I wont have to miss the USA for another day, at least.
Missed the plane. Don't want to go into it. Don't feel like giving specifics. Going to go back tomorrow AM and wait in the airport all day in the hopes that somebody cancels. Time to give my Kindle another workout, I think.
Not much else to say, just another brick in the wall. Or another thorn in my paw, not sure which. Still, gotta look on the positive side of everything, right?
Not sure what the positive side of this one is, though...
Missed the plane. Don't want to go into it. Don't feel like giving specifics. Going to go back tomorrow AM and wait in the airport all day in the hopes that somebody cancels. Time to give my Kindle another workout, I think.
Not much else to say, just another brick in the wall. Or another thorn in my paw, not sure which. Still, gotta look on the positive side of everything, right?
Not sure what the positive side of this one is, though...
Day 6
Quick entry as I am heading to the airport within the hour.
Not much actually happened today, but it feels like loads has. We just got our final errands out of the way, now I just need to finish packing a few bits that I couldn't pack earlier and I am done.
I have some good news about the visa, which we just applied for, but I don't have time to write it up now, so it'll have to wait until I'm in the UK.
So long for now, USA. I'll miss you.
Not much actually happened today, but it feels like loads has. We just got our final errands out of the way, now I just need to finish packing a few bits that I couldn't pack earlier and I am done.
I have some good news about the visa, which we just applied for, but I don't have time to write it up now, so it'll have to wait until I'm in the UK.
So long for now, USA. I'll miss you.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Day 5
Man, it's only Day 5? It feels like Day 2000. Amazing how much slower and stretched time feels when you are waiting on something like this.
So today was spent mostly organizing what we didn't organize yesterday. The visa paperwork is now ready to ship out tomorrow when the post office is open. We ate at a Chinese buffet for lunch, but my stomach wasn't in it. I kind of freaked out a little earlier. Things appear more swollen downstairs. It's a little terrifying, and I was nearly sick earlier. But, I'll be getting seen to in 2 days, so I'm still hopeful that everything will be fine. It will, right?
It's a weird conflict of emotions getting ready to fly with another person. Usually these last days of visiting Megan are very melancholy and go by so fast, but I can't help that feel sorry for dragging her into all this, even if it was her idea to come with me and she says I have nothing to be sorry about. But she still quit her job, spent most of her money and is putting her life on hold, all for me. My uncle is even an extra $1200 out of pocket paying for her ticket. It's a little overwhelming that I have that much impact on other people.
Of course, I'd do the same for her in a heartbeat. And I'd do the same in my uncle's position, too. But that's different.
Anyway, my plans for tomorrow include sending the visa paperwork, finishing packing, dismantling this PC and storing it next door (this house is being used by Megan's father, but I'd just prefer not to leave a $2000 PC out where anyone can walk in and use it!) and getting to the airport around 4pm. Our flight is at 6:35pm.
I don't know how much I will manage to sleep tonight. It's a big day tomorrow, and more big days will follow afterwards. I am looking forward to visiting home again, I just was not expecting it to come around so early. But still, I'll try to make the best out of a non-ideal situation.
I'll post again before shutting the PC down tomorrow with some final thoughts, if I get time.
Later day(s).
So today was spent mostly organizing what we didn't organize yesterday. The visa paperwork is now ready to ship out tomorrow when the post office is open. We ate at a Chinese buffet for lunch, but my stomach wasn't in it. I kind of freaked out a little earlier. Things appear more swollen downstairs. It's a little terrifying, and I was nearly sick earlier. But, I'll be getting seen to in 2 days, so I'm still hopeful that everything will be fine. It will, right?
It's a weird conflict of emotions getting ready to fly with another person. Usually these last days of visiting Megan are very melancholy and go by so fast, but I can't help that feel sorry for dragging her into all this, even if it was her idea to come with me and she says I have nothing to be sorry about. But she still quit her job, spent most of her money and is putting her life on hold, all for me. My uncle is even an extra $1200 out of pocket paying for her ticket. It's a little overwhelming that I have that much impact on other people.
Of course, I'd do the same for her in a heartbeat. And I'd do the same in my uncle's position, too. But that's different.
Anyway, my plans for tomorrow include sending the visa paperwork, finishing packing, dismantling this PC and storing it next door (this house is being used by Megan's father, but I'd just prefer not to leave a $2000 PC out where anyone can walk in and use it!) and getting to the airport around 4pm. Our flight is at 6:35pm.
I don't know how much I will manage to sleep tonight. It's a big day tomorrow, and more big days will follow afterwards. I am looking forward to visiting home again, I just was not expecting it to come around so early. But still, I'll try to make the best out of a non-ideal situation.
I'll post again before shutting the PC down tomorrow with some final thoughts, if I get time.
Later day(s).
Day 4
Okay, where to begin with what happened today? I'm writing this at 11:56pm Texas time. Let's see if I can finish it before midnight!
Still not much to report on the health front. Nobody has called back about getting care here, and that is fine, I have accepted that I am going home at this point, and so has my wife.
We've spent most of today doing errands that need to get done before we leave. We've filled in and printed forms that we need for the marriage visa, and we've got the $420 money order done. I was going to pay for that on my credit card, but they do not accept credit, so now my wife is just as broke as I am. Good time to move countries for 6 months, no?
She's appearing more broken up about all of this than I am. She's never been away from home for so long before, whilst I am quite used to coming and going from my home country. It's a little hard to balance my wish for haste with my feelings of pity for her, but the tickets are all booked up now so it's just a case of waiting until Monday night to fly back.
Apart from printing the forms and saying bye to a few people, it's been a pretty relaxing day. We played games for a while, and whilst the situation is always on my mind, it's good to pretend to forget about it for a few hours.
Oh, also, I think I might have got some poison oak on my skin, as my right foot has been really itchy. My wife gave me some allergy stuff and some cream, and it stopped itching. However, it also made me very drowsy.
Hence why I didn't finish this post before midnight. Dang. Oh well.
More updates to come.. when I have stuff to update!
Still not much to report on the health front. Nobody has called back about getting care here, and that is fine, I have accepted that I am going home at this point, and so has my wife.
We've spent most of today doing errands that need to get done before we leave. We've filled in and printed forms that we need for the marriage visa, and we've got the $420 money order done. I was going to pay for that on my credit card, but they do not accept credit, so now my wife is just as broke as I am. Good time to move countries for 6 months, no?
She's appearing more broken up about all of this than I am. She's never been away from home for so long before, whilst I am quite used to coming and going from my home country. It's a little hard to balance my wish for haste with my feelings of pity for her, but the tickets are all booked up now so it's just a case of waiting until Monday night to fly back.
Apart from printing the forms and saying bye to a few people, it's been a pretty relaxing day. We played games for a while, and whilst the situation is always on my mind, it's good to pretend to forget about it for a few hours.
Oh, also, I think I might have got some poison oak on my skin, as my right foot has been really itchy. My wife gave me some allergy stuff and some cream, and it stopped itching. However, it also made me very drowsy.
Hence why I didn't finish this post before midnight. Dang. Oh well.
More updates to come.. when I have stuff to update!
Friday, August 26, 2011
Day 3
What a day.
The support I have received over this, so far, has been overwhelming. Old friends offering to chip in, relatives offering to help out, even strangers just visibly caring has all been amazing.
I have been calling around here in the US to see if any clinics would be willing to press my case, but since I'm not a citizen/resident here yet, nobody has been willing. However, all the people I've talked to (bar one..) have been super helpful and caring. One woman has even called me back three times to offer me solutions, but all of them have ended in dead-ends. I'm not just sitting around however, I'm just perusing this while I arrange to fly back to the UK.
My Canadian uncle has graciously offered to help pay for my tickets, both mine and Megan's, so I can get back to the UK. If I cannot find anything here, and my hope for that has almost dried up, I will be flying back to the UK on Monday night to arrived 9:30AM Tuesday morning.
After that, who knows? I am going to try to contact my local UK hospital tomorrow and ask my options. The last thing I want is to wait around for a few weeks while this thing, whatever it is, festers away. I'm not sure if I need to see my local GP first, or go to a specialist, or go straight to the hospital with my US ultrasound results.
I also had another task to do today, get together everything to apply for another visa, so that one day I can come back. Will I never learn?
As I put together the list of things I need to fill in, I started writing my cover letter. I tried to explain everything that's happened so far, and I actually managed to type quite a lot. I'll paste it here, although the blog so far has covered almost everything. I apologise for the visa mumbo-jumbo, hopefully you can follow it:
So, we'll see how that goes. Maybe after beating the cancer, I can change this into a visa blog until my life is finally moving forward!
As the electricity flickers on and off here, I think about how long the last few days have felt. I've spoken to a lot of people that I haven't spoken to in a long time. I've done some things that I wouldn't normally do. I don't want my life to go back to normal, I want it to be better than it was. As generic and cliche as it sounds, I think I'll have a new-found respect for life.
Scratch that. I think I already do.
The support I have received over this, so far, has been overwhelming. Old friends offering to chip in, relatives offering to help out, even strangers just visibly caring has all been amazing.
I have been calling around here in the US to see if any clinics would be willing to press my case, but since I'm not a citizen/resident here yet, nobody has been willing. However, all the people I've talked to (bar one..) have been super helpful and caring. One woman has even called me back three times to offer me solutions, but all of them have ended in dead-ends. I'm not just sitting around however, I'm just perusing this while I arrange to fly back to the UK.
My Canadian uncle has graciously offered to help pay for my tickets, both mine and Megan's, so I can get back to the UK. If I cannot find anything here, and my hope for that has almost dried up, I will be flying back to the UK on Monday night to arrived 9:30AM Tuesday morning.
After that, who knows? I am going to try to contact my local UK hospital tomorrow and ask my options. The last thing I want is to wait around for a few weeks while this thing, whatever it is, festers away. I'm not sure if I need to see my local GP first, or go to a specialist, or go straight to the hospital with my US ultrasound results.
I also had another task to do today, get together everything to apply for another visa, so that one day I can come back. Will I never learn?
As I put together the list of things I need to fill in, I started writing my cover letter. I tried to explain everything that's happened so far, and I actually managed to type quite a lot. I'll paste it here, although the blog so far has covered almost everything. I apologise for the visa mumbo-jumbo, hopefully you can follow it:
Dear Sir or Madam:
My name is Aaron Demner, and I am writing to explain my I-130 application.
I met my now wife online in 2008, through a videogame we both played. We met several times before applying for a I-129f, a fiancée visa in August 2010. We went through the waiting period, we were approved, and I attended a medical and an interview in London in April 2011. I was approved, and booked my ticket for May 2011. My prior Alien Registration Number was #####.
I arrived safely, and we married on the 2nd of August, 2011, in a small ceremony in The Woodlands, Texas. I started to prepare the forms required for the Adjustment of Status, while my wife continued working. I organized it all, and we were waiting until she got one more paycheck so that we could safely fund the AOS.
Then one morning I noticed that one of my testicles was more firm than the other. I waited a few days to see and pray that it went away on its own. It did not.
I attended a urology clinic, and saw a Dr Don Berardinucci on Tuesday the 23rd Aug, 2011. He checked me and said he did not like what he felt. He arranged an ultrasound in a screening clinic nearby, I attended that afternoon. My wife has signed an automatic payment plan to pay for said ultrasound. The results were sent back to the doctor, but he was too busy to see me, and arranged an appointment for Thursday. However, after receiving the results, he called up and moved the appointment to the very next day, Wednesday the 24th Aug.
He was blunt. He told me he was 95% sure I had cancer of the right testicle. He told me surgery would be $3000, not including the scans afterwards, but he also informed me that certain hospitals might be able to offer certain programs to help me financially.
I am not insured, and neither is my wife. However, the UK offers free healthcare, and since it has not been 6 months since I left, I still qualify for that. I did not want to burden the US taxpayers by asking for a charity case, nor did I wish my wife to go into debt taking out medical loans on my behalf. Even getting a biopsy and finding out it is not cancer could still lead to expensive health complications.
I asked my Uncle to help finance my tickets, and I return to the UK to undertake immediate treatment on Monday the 29th. I attended an InfoPass appointment at the Greenpoint, TX USCIS office on the 25th Aug to ask for advice, and I was told since I had not applied for AOS yet, I could not get advanced parole to leave and re-enter the US, and that I would need to apply for a whole new visa, a I-130.
So here I am, applying once more. Please find attached copies of the ultrasound results, and also a copy of my wife’s payment plan to pay for it. I ask that you take my prior approved application into consideration, and know that as soon as all this is over I very much look forward to starting my new life together with my wife in the US.
Sincerely,
Aaron Demner
So, we'll see how that goes. Maybe after beating the cancer, I can change this into a visa blog until my life is finally moving forward!
As the electricity flickers on and off here, I think about how long the last few days have felt. I've spoken to a lot of people that I haven't spoken to in a long time. I've done some things that I wouldn't normally do. I don't want my life to go back to normal, I want it to be better than it was. As generic and cliche as it sounds, I think I'll have a new-found respect for life.
Scratch that. I think I already do.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Day 2
No news is good news, is it?
This isn't so much about the cancer. You'd think that would be filling my mind at the moment, but it really isn't. I should probably change my priorities.
Anyway, I am at a stage in my process of moving from the UK to the US. I am not allowed to return to the US to live at this point if I leave. The process goes a little something like this:
Decide to go through with this
Apply while in the UK
Wait 6 months
Get approved
Move
Get Married
Apply for Adjustment of Status
Get green card
Live life
We got to the adjustment of status section, but did not apply yet. We're poor. The AOS costs another $1000. We were waiting for another paycheck before applying. Then all this happens.
Once we applied for AOS, I could have asked permission to leave early and return once my business was done. But if I leave at this point, they will view it as me abandoning my application. I'll have to start all over again, but file a slightly different petition. A marriage visa instead of a fiancee visa. The waiting period is about the same. Oh, and the fee is $420. And later we'll still have to pay that $1000.
So looks like I'll be stuck in the UK for a while if I return, which I'm almost 100% certain that I will. And my wife is only allowed to stay for 6 months on a visitor visa. She isn't allowed to work, either. So I'm not sure what we're going to do.
I'm going to beat this. I'm going to win over my body, and the government, and my incredibly bad luck that causes this to happen. I'm just not sure how yet.
But I will.
This isn't so much about the cancer. You'd think that would be filling my mind at the moment, but it really isn't. I should probably change my priorities.
Anyway, I am at a stage in my process of moving from the UK to the US. I am not allowed to return to the US to live at this point if I leave. The process goes a little something like this:
Decide to go through with this
Apply while in the UK
Wait 6 months
Get approved
Move
Get Married
Apply for Adjustment of Status
Get green card
Live life
We got to the adjustment of status section, but did not apply yet. We're poor. The AOS costs another $1000. We were waiting for another paycheck before applying. Then all this happens.
Once we applied for AOS, I could have asked permission to leave early and return once my business was done. But if I leave at this point, they will view it as me abandoning my application. I'll have to start all over again, but file a slightly different petition. A marriage visa instead of a fiancee visa. The waiting period is about the same. Oh, and the fee is $420. And later we'll still have to pay that $1000.
So looks like I'll be stuck in the UK for a while if I return, which I'm almost 100% certain that I will. And my wife is only allowed to stay for 6 months on a visitor visa. She isn't allowed to work, either. So I'm not sure what we're going to do.
I'm going to beat this. I'm going to win over my body, and the government, and my incredibly bad luck that causes this to happen. I'm just not sure how yet.
But I will.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Day 1
So. Today, 24th August, 2011, I was told by a US doctor, a lovely Dr Don Berardinucci, that he was 95% sure I have testicular cancer.
It all started two weeks ago. I noticed my right ball was a bit more firm than the left. I understand this can happen, but was also instantly terrified since my whole life I've been under the idea that "oh God as soon as you feel anything firm in your balls you better run to the doctor immediately". Why didn't I? Let me give you some backstory.
At the time of writing this, I am a 25 year old British man living in the USA with my wife. We met online (yes, in a game, no, not in Warcraft) in 2008, and got married on Aug 2nd, 2011. We've been setting up the forms needed to apply for my Adjustment of Status, an expensive final step before I can start working, when I noticed my right testicle being firmer than the other.
I waited a week, like an idiot, to hope that it was something minor and not what I was dreading it was. What I was expecting it to be. What can I say? I'm a pessimist. It didn't go away. I finally saw the doctor first time yesterday, Aug 23rd. He felt around, said he didn't like the feel of it, but that I needed an (expensive) ultrasound to supply further information. We got the ultrasound booked for an hour later, 1pm yesterday afternoon.
We, my wife and I, went to Starbucks, but neither of us felt like eating. I managed to drink some water, and we walked over to the image clinic. They saw me early, only a little while after we got there. The cardiology assistant took me into a back room, asked me to undress and.. well, you get the idea. After it was all done, she told me I could dress and leave, and took the images to the cardiologist to send over to my doctor. She left the screen turned on though, and being the tech-savy guy that I feel I am, I took a look at it.
The screen showed what I guessed was both of my testicles. The left one, the one that feels normal, had a few orange blobs but for the most showed a normal looking circle. The right one, however.. I can't describe what it looked like. Some kind of explosion, covered in orange blobs both top and bottom. I did not enjoy looking at it, and was rather annoyed that the assistant just left it on and walked out of the room. What were people looking at it supposed to think? I feel sorry for other ultrasound patients.
We went back to the doctors in low spirits, prepared for the worst. My wife walked in to ask when we could come back for the results, and they told her that Thursday would be the earliest. We went home, cried a lot, and tried to desperately plan for the worst.
However, a few hours later, the nurse from Dr Berardinucci's office called, moving our appointment to today. A day earlier. Could it be because of the bad news? Or maybe it's good and he wants me to know as soon as possible? Again, my pessimism told me that was not the case, but I still held onto a sliver of hope.
My wife had to work today, so her Aunt, a lovely woman and a cancer survivor herself, took me down there. We got there early again, and got seen pretty promptly. The doctor didn't waste any time however, he told me the following:
I'm 95% sure it's testicular cancer. What I felt yesterday, it felt like it, but I didn't want to say anything until we had more tests. I felt cancer, and the ultrasound shows growths that would coincide with cancer. Testicular cancer is the most treatable cancer there is, if we catch it early enough. I understand you are not on insurance, and I don't know how you want to handle this, but I can schedule you in for surgery to remove the testicle on Friday.
He left the room to get one of his nurses to get a quote. The quote came to nearly $3000 for just the surgery and the anaesthetic. I would then need CAT scans, and if it isn't all gone, lots more bloodwork, surgery, even chemo. I don't want to think about the chemo. I like my hair.
So, that's where I stand now. The UK offers free healthcare, but do I have time to fly back there and get it? Can I bring my wife with me? Can I instead raise the money here and get treated?
Find out in the next part of ZOMBIE CANCER Z.
Or something.
It all started two weeks ago. I noticed my right ball was a bit more firm than the left. I understand this can happen, but was also instantly terrified since my whole life I've been under the idea that "oh God as soon as you feel anything firm in your balls you better run to the doctor immediately". Why didn't I? Let me give you some backstory.
At the time of writing this, I am a 25 year old British man living in the USA with my wife. We met online (yes, in a game, no, not in Warcraft) in 2008, and got married on Aug 2nd, 2011. We've been setting up the forms needed to apply for my Adjustment of Status, an expensive final step before I can start working, when I noticed my right testicle being firmer than the other.
I waited a week, like an idiot, to hope that it was something minor and not what I was dreading it was. What I was expecting it to be. What can I say? I'm a pessimist. It didn't go away. I finally saw the doctor first time yesterday, Aug 23rd. He felt around, said he didn't like the feel of it, but that I needed an (expensive) ultrasound to supply further information. We got the ultrasound booked for an hour later, 1pm yesterday afternoon.
We, my wife and I, went to Starbucks, but neither of us felt like eating. I managed to drink some water, and we walked over to the image clinic. They saw me early, only a little while after we got there. The cardiology assistant took me into a back room, asked me to undress and.. well, you get the idea. After it was all done, she told me I could dress and leave, and took the images to the cardiologist to send over to my doctor. She left the screen turned on though, and being the tech-savy guy that I feel I am, I took a look at it.
The screen showed what I guessed was both of my testicles. The left one, the one that feels normal, had a few orange blobs but for the most showed a normal looking circle. The right one, however.. I can't describe what it looked like. Some kind of explosion, covered in orange blobs both top and bottom. I did not enjoy looking at it, and was rather annoyed that the assistant just left it on and walked out of the room. What were people looking at it supposed to think? I feel sorry for other ultrasound patients.
We went back to the doctors in low spirits, prepared for the worst. My wife walked in to ask when we could come back for the results, and they told her that Thursday would be the earliest. We went home, cried a lot, and tried to desperately plan for the worst.
However, a few hours later, the nurse from Dr Berardinucci's office called, moving our appointment to today. A day earlier. Could it be because of the bad news? Or maybe it's good and he wants me to know as soon as possible? Again, my pessimism told me that was not the case, but I still held onto a sliver of hope.
My wife had to work today, so her Aunt, a lovely woman and a cancer survivor herself, took me down there. We got there early again, and got seen pretty promptly. The doctor didn't waste any time however, he told me the following:
I'm 95% sure it's testicular cancer. What I felt yesterday, it felt like it, but I didn't want to say anything until we had more tests. I felt cancer, and the ultrasound shows growths that would coincide with cancer. Testicular cancer is the most treatable cancer there is, if we catch it early enough. I understand you are not on insurance, and I don't know how you want to handle this, but I can schedule you in for surgery to remove the testicle on Friday.
He left the room to get one of his nurses to get a quote. The quote came to nearly $3000 for just the surgery and the anaesthetic. I would then need CAT scans, and if it isn't all gone, lots more bloodwork, surgery, even chemo. I don't want to think about the chemo. I like my hair.
So, that's where I stand now. The UK offers free healthcare, but do I have time to fly back there and get it? Can I bring my wife with me? Can I instead raise the money here and get treated?
Find out in the next part of ZOMBIE CANCER Z.
Or something.
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