My surgery date came through as Thursday 13th June 2013. When I first saw that date I thought "that's 6 weeks after radiotherapy will have finished, what the bloody hell will I do for 6 weeks?" Anyone who knows me will tell you I'm a busy person, at times maniacally busy, I don't sit down and if I do I fidget and fuss until I can find something to do. I have always been that way and now with no work and nothing to do but sit and wait for surgery I knew this would be difficult for me. Also with no real business to do in the day I was struggling to sleep at night, when I struggled to sleep at night I let the negative thoughts back in and I knew that was not going to help me, that would start a downward cycle. I missed the routine of radiotherapy as well, I missed the having somewhere to go, I missed the feeling that I was getting treatment. I think going in each day had become a bit of a comfort blanket, I was in a treatment environment and I was doing something about the tumour, now I was just sat waiting again and waiting was not good. They had told me the radiotherapy would keep working after the treatment had finished and I knew from the burns that it was but my head just kept saying "it's going to grow again" and I've said it before when it's your own mind saying it, it feels more real. I needed a new routine so I set about making one, that would help me, I started doing some football coaching for a charity, I had loved coaching football and decided that would be something I could still do. I spoke to a mate who said I could help out at some after school club sessions a couple of days a week so I took the opportunity. I loved it, I loved being back on the grass with a ball talking about and teaching one of the sports I love. I never told anyone I worked with why I wasn't at work, they just assumed I had lost my job and was filling time until I found a new one. It wasn't until my final session at one school when I said that I would be finishing now and that a new coach would be taking over that it came out. They asked me why and I said I needed some surgery, "oh sports injury?" was the question, "no cancer, a tumour in my leg, but it's fine it's treatable" was what came out of me and right then when I saw the sympathetic look again and the "be positive" words came out I decided not to tell anyone else. I could not deal with it anymore, I was sick of "you have to stay positive" absolutely sick of it. I snapped at someone once, I shouldn't have done it, I'm embarrassed to say I did it, but I did. All they said was "look Daz, if you stay positive you can beat it", it was early on and I wasn't in a good place but my return was cutting, cruel even. I spat out this response "Oh that's f**king it is it, I just wish the f**king thing away do I with smiles and hope. Well f**k me, I wish you had told me that earlier, about how when you were told you had cancer you just wished the f**king thing away. I feel so much better after you told me that." The look on their face was awful and I apologised straight away but I felt awful truly awful. They were trying to help that's all, trying to be nice and my response was vicious. I never did it again but I also have never forgotten doing it either, I'm cringing now as write about it but this was supposed to be warts and all so there it is. Hopefully if someone else has done that they will now know they aren't alone I did it too. If I'm the only person who has ever done that, well, let's just say I hope I'm not! Because we had made a decision no to talk about it at home and now I wasn't going to say anything to anyone else as I was fed up with the "be positives" it did become difficult again for a while. There were still a couple of friends who called, text or emailed asking how I was. It was less than when I was diagnosed a lot less but I understand, it wasn't happening to them, it didn't have to be in their heads all the time, they still had lives, jobs, worries of their own and that's fine, really it is, I don't blame them, Christ I had done the same thing with Graham. But those that did stay in touch, well they helped me, they gave me someone to talk to if I wanted to. Granted I didn't actually want to talk a lot of the time but when I did they were there. And a text or an email arriving unexpectedly did lift my spirits, it did it a lot. I say it dragged, and it did, it also seemed to speed along to the 12th June. My other love in sport is rugby and the Lions were on tour, It meant that as I built up to the surgery date I had a major sporting event to take my mind off it. I would watch all the games in this period, all of them, in fact I didn't miss a single game of that tour, I think that's the first time ever I haven't missed a game due to work or something else. They say every cloud and that, well that was definitely one of my silver linings. That tour is another thing that will be forever linked to this time of my life, I watch the tour documentary from time to time and I always go back to this point in time in my mind. Normally it's music for memories but for this point it was sport. The 12th of June came around and that was one of the longest nights ever. It was no food or drink, well sips of water, after 10pm and I was scared, really really scared. You will have noticed by now from this blog that lack of control terrifies me. I want to be in control of my life and once again I was at a point where I had to surrender control of everything to someone else. I liked the surgeons, I trusted them, I desperately wanted this bloody thing out of me but the thought of surgery absolutely terrified me. They had explained that they had a good idea on what the tumour looked like and how big it was but this may change once they opened me up. There may have been some contact with other parts of the leg, it may not come out easy, they weren't sure exactly how much "good leg" would need to be cut away etc.. None of that was what worried me, being put to sleep did, god it did, the thought of it still makes me shiver and feel sick. In my head at that point that's when you lost all control, completely lost control, someone made you go to sleep and then woke you up. Now to most it's not a problem but to me, honestly I feel sick just writing it now so imagine how I was then!
This is what kept me awake that night, all night, and I mean all night. I did not sleep a wink. Sipping water and that bloody bad TV again as my head argued with itself yet again! "it's in my leg, I'm sure they could use a local, I mean it's not like it's in a tricky place" "yeah but it's major surgery, they said that, major surgery, they can't do that on a local" "yeah but it's my leg, f**k it I'll ask them, if they see how scared I am they'll let me" "stop being an idiot, just get on with it" there we were again, backwards and forwards in my head, fear overtaking control, panic overtaking logic and all of it overtaking sleep. I was relieved when 6am came around, I was supposed to be at the hospital for 7 so now I could get moving, doing something, the soothing effect of motion and purpose started again and then I was off to the hospital. I drove and my wife sat next to me, my mother in law was in the back, she would keep her company whilst I was down in surgery. Conversation was quiet, if I'm honest we didn't talk much, everyone was tired and I was a mess again, still the local versus general argument raged in my head, I would ask, I would definitely ask, what's the worst that could happen, they could say no, that's all. Onto the ward and the news I would be one of the first down, my anxiety was really peaking, Ok I said I would ask so I'll ask. "Is there any chance I can have this under local?" They couldn't answer, it would be down to my consultant, "she'll be in soon with Nicola to see you, you can ask then but if I'm honest, don't get your hopes up but you can ask". I had been given my own room so I sat in the window overlooking a view which let's be honest wasn't great but it was the outside. I sat and watched people coming and going, wondering what they were coming for, who they were seeing, just going about their business and then the door opened and in came Miss Rawle. She always had a calming influence, and it did start to relax me as she went through the paperwork and the procedure, and then she said something I will thank her for forever. "So then Darren, I think we could do this under a local anesthetic if you would prefer?" I looked at everyone in the room, a smile crossing my face, I relaxed almost instantly and my wife said "Thank you, he has been up all night worrying about that, he won't tell you that now but he has." The paperwork was a doddle, I would of signed anything now, we discussed different possible outcomes, the best case and the worst case, what both would mean to me and then she said she was going to get ready and would see me soon. And that was it, pants on, good ones people would see them, and then the gown. On the bed and waiting for the porter I said goodbye to my wife, see you later, won't be long. I felt at ease now I really did I was getting the tumour out, I didn't have to go to sleep and I was getting the tumour out! Yes I know I've said that twice but since I had been told on February the 11th all I wanted was this thing out of my body, 4 months had passed and now I was getting it out of me. If it wasn't in me it couldn't spread and therefore couldn't kill me, it was time to get this thing out. I went down to the preparation room at about 9ish, the porter made small talk, I was deposited in a waiting room on my bed and then called to go in with the anesthetist. It was time for me to have the local anesthetic and it was decided on an epidural. I now understand what one of those involves, and why pregnant ladies want them. I have to be honest, the anesthetist was really good I didn't really feel anything pain wise, a scratch and some pressure and then a cold feeling spreading downwards until complete numbness. I was laid down and a drip placed into the back of my hand. It had been explained that if anything happened that needed me to go to sleep they wouldn't tell me they would just use this to deliver the drugs and I wouldn't know. They then gave me a dose of anti depressants, strong ones and I can only describe the feeling as being tipsy, you know that point where you know you have had a drink but you're not drunk. You are happy and relaxed, no worries in your head and your ready for another drink. They wheeled me in and Miss Rawle was there to greet me, she asked if I was ok and ready to start, I nodded, yes I was and with that she told someone to get me a blanket and then my pants were being taken off again! To be honest with you I don't really remember the surgery, I remember feeling really warm, I remember hearing the radio being on and talking with the anesthetist. We talked rubbish, small talk, work, kids, holidays and football. I guess it was anything to keep me chatting, to stop me wondering, to stop me worrying. I think that I even fell asleep at one point, I remember sort of waking up but then thought I couldn't have slept could I? I kept looking into the surgical light as there was a bit of a reflection, I couldn't see what they were doing, I couldn't feel it either but my curiosity was building. I guess it was just that I wanted to know if it was a success, how badly my leg would be damaged afterwards, it won't be that bad surely? I was in surgery about 2 and a bit hours and then they took me through to recovery, the nurse sat with me and we talked about the same stuff as I just had in theatre, I guess they just wanted to make sure I didn't have a reaction before I went back to the ward. I had already started asking "is it all out? Did you get it all? How bad is my leg? How long does the drain stay in?" and of course "when can I go home?" Miss Rawle came out and said "just relax Darren, I'll come up and see you soon, everything went well." With that the porter came and off I went back to the room. I can honestly say at that point I felt truly great, it had taken 4 months but the cancer was out of me, it was out of me. It was gone. I cried but different tears, it was relief that my surgery was over, relief that my kids could come and see me later, relief that the cancer was out of me, relief, just simple plain relief. I stopped crying in the corridor, I didn't want anyone else to see the tears, I didn't want today to be about any tears. The cancer had been cut out.
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Darren EvansOn Feb 11th 2013 my life changed forever when I was diagnosed with a myxoid liposarcoma of the right thigh. This is my version of my life since then. Archives
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