We spent the next few weeks in a minor state of panic. With all this cancer stuff taking up all our time recently, our up and coming cruise had taken a bit of a back burner. With the operation booked in for our return and no more hospital appointments it was time for holiday prep. This normally involves finding out the 4 year old has too many clothes, the wife doesn’t have enough shoes and at least one of the boys doesn’t have any holiday clothes that fit. Cue last minute online shops and trips to Primark.
The cruise was just what we all needed. It’s amazing how being in a different country makes things so easy to forget and waking up in a different port every day made it even easier. I think we all had our odd moments. Many an evening I would catch the wife on the balcony, appearing deep in thought watching the sun set on the horizon. However, the rule for the holiday was ‘the first person to mention cancer gets thrown overboard’.
We arrived back fresh, relaxed and ready to face the next set of challenges. Now most people would probably spend the night before their 7am start at the hospital chilling out, packing a bag but not us. We had a prior engagement to see Tina Turner up the West end. Bellies full with TGI’s we danced away in our seats and it might just have been me but, secretly hoped the show would never end.
The next day arrived and went as planned. Typically the Mrs was the last one to go down but I did manage to hit 15k steps that day going up and down the hospital. They were reluctant to discharge her initially, due to low blood pressure but she pulled the ‘my husband’s a paramedic’ card and they couldn’t get her out quick enough. As I waited for her to come out I was greeted by what I can only describe as, an extra from the walking dead. As well as the lumpectomy they had also removed some lymph nodes. In order to locate them they had to administer a blue dye which could turn the urine blue, leave a blue Mark on the breast and give the skin a general blue appearance. They weren’t joking. She looked like a Smurf risen from the dead.
Recovery started ok. Apart from now having a very noticeable blue tit (which can last for up to a year!), the wound was healing well and she was managing to do some light recommended exercises. Then, one by one, courtesy of the youngest member of the household, we all got the shits. Cancer, an operation, a blue tit and the shits… how’s your bloody luck?!
Mr&MrsP and the big C 