Better a bag than a box

So I’ve just been to St Bart’s Hospital to see the surgical team for what should be the last time before I actually go in for surgery. To be honest it actually went a lot better than expected other than the fact I was categorically told I am having a catheter whether I like it or not. So much for not adamantly demanding not having one. However, other than the fact they’re going to ram a tube up my cock the prognosis isn’t actually as bad as I thought it was going to be. Looking at the last full colonoscopy, active disease is limited only to the last part of my descending colon near my ever temperamental arsehole. So initially they are going to remove the affected section of colon and leave me with a colostomy preserving as much health large intestine as possible. However this may change should they open me up and find that more of my intestines were affected than first thought. So I have to hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Generally though the outlook is much better than I first thought, they didn’t want to get my hopes up, but depending on if there is healthy tissue near the rectum they may be able to construct and internal pouch later on, however that’s a big “if” and I am to work on the assumption that that isn’t happening and I am going to end up with a permanent colostomy.

So hopefully I won’t be losing all of my large intestine which would be a right result. But I’m not going to know what has happened till I come round for the surgery. The surgery itself should only take 3 or so hours and they are going to attempt to do it laparoscopically which should be fine as I am relatively young and fit so I’m told. This also means the recovery process should be quicker than if they have to cut me open properly. Basically, there are a lot of ifs and buts and I am just going to have to wait and see what happens.

I’m still metaphorically shitting myself at the whole prospect of this and I had to stifle a giggle when the registrar today remarked on how calm, and accepting I seemed of everything. Well, I don’t really have a choice but to be calm and accepting. “It is foolish to fear what you cannot avoid.” (Stultum est timere quod vitare non potes) Publius Syrus. I’ve done the whole getting angry and then getting upset and no good comes of it, although I believe it is a process I had to go through to get to where I am now. I know that pending I don’t die on the table, I should come out the other side of this just fine and my whole quality of life should sky rocket. So now I have to wait 6-8 weeks before I even get called in for my pre-op assessment so more time to ponder exactly how much I don’t want and angry nurse ramming a plastic tube up my cock hole. I mean I’m quite happy for them to slice me open from sternum to groin but come near my bell end with a pointy bit of plastic while I’m awake and I won’t be the only one who will be needing surgery that day! Fucks sake. It’s got to be done though. At least I’m not on the Jeremy Kyle show.

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3 thoughts on “Better a bag than a box

  1. You have quite the knack for describing things. I wasn’t quite so creative! 🙂
    I hope they don’t have to filet you like a fish… it is much better to have lots of little scars. And regarding the catheter, I know it might be different depending on your doctor, but you might not be conscious when they put it in. Thankfully, I wasn’t, which I thought was VERY nice.
    I’m not sure what the registrars expect. Sure, we’re calm-ish in front of them. Should we show up yelling and swearing like maniacs? I think not.

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