There’s more drama in Mum and Dad’s life than that in a marathon of amateur Shakespeare recitals!

The last blog post had doctors diagnosing the cause of all the bleeding he’d been having. Much blood has dripped down the drain since then.

He underwent a procedure on Wednesday afternoon to cauterize the wounds in his bowel and to stitch up a leaking

Sharing the drama!

mesenteric artery. Following a dose of fresh blood, Dad’s color and character returned, slowly, but he did improve.

Dad was discharged around midday on Thursday from hospital. I went and picked him up and on his way home he (or the morphine) wondered out loud where we should go for lunch. When Dad is told that he can “go home” what he hears is: “you’re good to go”.

In spite of Mum’s and my strong suggestions that given he’d lost around 3.5 liters of blood since the weekend, he really should just put his feet up and rest – he didn’t. Well he tried, but resting isn’t in his nature. If he’s still ‘above ground’ and there’s work to be done, he sets about to get it done.

This morning over breakfast he told me he’d lost some more blood during the night. To say that was disappointing news to hear is an understatement. We were all so hopeful that Wednesday’s procedure would be ‘it’ for a while. While I was finishing my morning coffee and he was having his potions and elixirs, the plaintive call of “Doug” came from the bathroom. Mum had had one of her turns and this time she was the patient and Dad was the nurse.

Shortly after lunch, Dad checked his colostomy bag to find that there was more blood and that there was a constant drip into the bag. Mum and I decided that we wouldn’t muck around and we’d just get him to the hospital to get him looked at (actually ‘treated’ is a different matter). While I was helping Dad get his stuff together, Mum called St Johns Ambulance for advice. They told us to wait there, they were sending some Ambos round.

While the St John’s boys were prepping Dad for the trip to hospital, Mum had another of her turns and they looked at her and decided that they should take her as well. Sweet, I thought, a quiet afternoon for me. Being the father of three young kids, I realize that an ambulance house call is not a crisis moment – it’s a Kodak moment! I got my camera out and snapped away. If only I’d had the foresight to grab the video camera I might have been able to engineer an entry to Funniest Home Videos. ‘Always be prepared’ and all that. Alas, I’m no boy scout.

With the afternoon with the parents out of the house, I set about trying to organize some of Dad’s files. No sooner had I written my siblings out of the Will than I got a phone call from Dad to say that I could come and pick them up. To say that was disappointing news to hear is an understatement – I hadn’t chucked a ‘save’ the corrected document yet!

There’s possibly a more accurate version of events, but I can only call them as I see them. Perhaps Dad will give you his perspective when he’s feeling a little better.

‘Till next time… Sim.

How often do we ask questions and expect the usual platitudinal answer. How often do we not hear answers to the questions we ask other people? And perhaps I especially need to be careful how I answer people lest someone really believe a facetious answer I may give.

On Wednesday afternoon I took Abe and Phoebe fishing down at a Nelson wharf. We heard a cheery ‘hello Doug’ and there was my Oncologist sitting at an adjacent cafe having lunch with her husband and son. After they had finished their meal they came to inspect our prowess. We caught nothing.

Then on Saturday Bronwen and I were at Kaiteriteri eating lunch outside the Shoreline Cafe. Again I heard a cheery greeting. This timeI it was the Nelson Hospital Surgical Registrar who was there with his girlfriend.

On Sunday afternoon on our way home to Nelson to join Abe’s birthday party BBQ at the beach, I needed to find a clean rest-room. We stopped at the Nelson airport. As I came out of the airport, I again received a cheery greeting and a friendly handshake – this time by my surgeon. He informed me that I was due to see him this week for a colonoscopy and gastroscopy. I had heard nothing officially but told him that was welcome news.

I couldn’t help laughing as I returned to the car. I may not understand what is going on with my body, but there is no mistaking the little signs that God has His eye and care upon me.

On the other hand, you know you’ve been in hospital too often when the specialist doctors greet you in public by your first name!

An article on the web by Christopher Hitchens on Cancer Etiquette is a must read to help understand the plight of those who dwell in “Well Land” and “Tumour Town”. From what I’ve experienced, I think Christopher sums it up perfectly. The short, easy to read article is called

Miss Manners And the Big C

Now if I am stuck behind someone in a check-out queue or in an otherwise quiet prayer meeting and the stoma decides to make its presence heard I don’t have to advise people “I have a surgical device” and make them envious. Now I can just tell them its King Julian and he likes to “move it, move it”!

It was noticeable that 95% of the audience all had grey hair and 70% were women, perhaps still hopeful of catching the Bachelor Boy. One of the good things about going to these sorts of concerts is that the audience aren’t gyrating in their seats and in the aisles obstructing views. Most of them would be worried about ‘popping their hips’! And it doesn’t matter about the noise because they can turn their hearing aids down. I was amused that all around me I could hear people discussing their health issues.

We stayed overnight with friends in Rangiora and caught the plane home the next day. It was full of satisfied concert goers, many of whom we knew.

Eventually I had my turn in the chair knowing that the 3 patrons to follow me would not have long to wait since I don’t have so much hair to manage.

BUT

I get value for money!

After trimming my hair and neckline, the hairdresser, at no extra charge, trimmed my ears and eye-brows. Ah, the benefits of being an older gent!

Three weeks after my major surgery I finally got my in-line catheter removed last Wednesday. It was causing some irritation and there was a suspicion that I might have a bladder infection. I do not know why the hospital did not take a sample for analysis at the time. Instead I was sent home and told that if the pain persisted I should consult my GP the next day.

The pain did not abate but got worse so the next day I provided a sample to the GP and hand-delivered it to Medlab for analysis. I was told it would take 2 days for the result to be discovered. And, yes, that meant Saturday when neither Medlab nor the GP were on duty. I had to suffer in silence (!!) over the weekend to discover on Monday that I had E-Coli in my bladder. It was not until Monday afternoon that I was able to take the first tablets of the specific antibiotic to deal with the problem.

Be warned. Think ahead. If you have a niggle that might require Laboratory analysis, act on it in the first half of the week – just in case. You don’t want to be hanging around with these infections longer than you have to.

Have you ever considered the extent and ramifications of those statements? We don’t realise how much we take for granted until something happens to deprive us of something.

Since having my rear end removed and a permanent Stoma inserted onto my lower stomach I am having to adjust to a whole new routine in my morning ablutions. I have had quite a mental battle in getting used to the procedures, and the extra time, that will no doubt eventually become a breeze. It has made me realise what I joy it used to be to go into the toilet without giving things a second thought. Truly, the way we were created to dispose of the waste matter the body creates is a benefit worth giving thanks for!

I expect to hear that all who read this will gain new appreciation for their daily mundane bodily functions and songs of praise will emanate from bathrooms around the country.