I got wheeled back into the room within an hour of the end of my surgery, my brain was wide awake and working but my body was numb and immobile from the chest down. The epidural was a strange feeling, using my hands I could feel my body but my body couldn't feel my hands, I'm a fidget I don't sit still, ever, but I had no choice. I laid there propped up on pillows and unable to really move drinking tea and watching MTV on the small television on the wall. My wife and mother in law were allowed in and we all just sat and chatted, not about the surgery not about the illness just chatted. I was in such a happy place, the thing that I hated in my leg was gone, off to a lab for checking and then if they wanted off for research in case that could help someone else who grew one of these things. My mood was happier than it had been in months, everything had built to this point, everything revolved about this point and I was going to enjoy it. I couldn't see the extent of the damage to my leg, I knew it was there so that was a massive bonus! I joke about it but a silly little part of me had wondered if they would need to cut it off, I know that seems ridiculous now but there were times during the build up where I had wondered what my life would be like with just one leg. But now when I put my hand down it was there, wrapped in bandages, with a drain sticking out, with no feeling but it was there.
Miss Rawle came to see me later in the afternoon, she explained that she was really happy with the way the surgery had gone, there was a slight complication in that the tumour didn't just pop out as it was a bit sticky but it was contained within the muscle and that by removing it she had got what she thought would be good margins and that I should be pleased with how it went. Then she explained "what the damage was" so to speak. I had lost virtually the entire rectus femoris muscle in my right thigh which was a major part of the quadriceps muscle group. I would definitely need some physiotherapy and there would be some things that I would struggle to do again, such as kick a ball and even though that rocked me a bit I was happy that although the muscle was gone but so was the cancer. She explained I would probably be in hospital until the following week and that Nicola would be in tomorrow to see how I was and with that she left. I laid and thought about what she had said, I really didn't want to be in hospital any longer than I needed to so we would see about that. I would get through today and see where we were, hospital was for ill people and I didn't want to be one of them. I then did what we all do in this situation I checked in on Facebook to let everyone know I was ok! It's so much easier than a load of text messages and phone calls, one status update and you're done! It was not long after that the day got a bit worse. I said to my wife I was red hot and that I was sweating like crazy, my sheets were soaking I told her. She said it wasn't that warm but she would open the window, maybe I was feeling a bit of something left over from the surgery. No I must be hot I'm soaking wet.......then it dawned on me, I couldn't feel anything from the waste down and I had been throwing the fluids down my neck as they had asked me to because of the blood and fluid loss from surgery. I knew what had happened, I had wet the bed. I was mortified, how embarrassing, what could I say to them, I was a grown man laid in a puddle of pee. My wife went and got a nurse and I could barely look at them as I mumbled "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so embarrassed, I'm so sorry", they told me not to worry, it wasn't a problem but as they moved me to change the sheets around me I couldn't help to feel embarrassed. They left me some pots in case I needed to go again and told me "don't worry, it's just one of those things." I was determined that wouldn't happen again, I was getting some feeling back in my insides, I still couldn't move and my legs were numb but I was starting to get feelings in my stomach and that would help me know when I needed to go. I thought it would anyway, I felt the need to go about an hour later, what I didn't feel was the actual going sensation until I was once again laid in dripping wet sheets. An embarrassed ring of the bell was made and a lot more mumbling apologies given whilst I was changed again. I swore next time I wouldn't do it again, and I didn't, I felt the need to go in my stomach I grabbed the pot "positioned myself" and then went. What I didn't feel this time was the pot filling to the brim and then overfilling, my language reverted to squaddie whilst it was just me in the room, then back to a mumbling wreck when the nurses had to come again. They were so good to me and they treated me with dignity and some humour, I often find that humour in the darkest times helps to bring you back, I just wish now I had remembered that a bit more over the last 2 and 1/2 years! By the time my kids came in with their Grandad in the evening I was feeling a lot better. I had mastered the pots (a carefully placed finger worked as a depth gauge...god maybe I should edit that part, but hey it seemed like a logical solution at the time and I'm an engineer!) The kids still didn't know why I needed an operation just that I had a poorly leg and that I would be in for a while. My eldest Harry was flying to Spain the next morning to play in a tournament, 8 years old and off to play football in Spain what a life, and I was devastated this would be the first match he had played that I would miss. Although because I had not had a general anesthetic I was at least in a state where we could have a good chat about it and he could tell me how excited he was. My daughter Madison was a bit more quiet than usual and I think it was being in the hospital that was upsetting her. She kept looking at me when she thought I wasn't looking and it seemed she was checking that I was actually ok but she didn't want to ask. I had a cuddle with Charlie who was only 8 months old at the time and then the other two climbed on the bed and cuddled in too, that was a high point, a real high, after the fears of leaving them to be laid there with all 3 in my arms I was truly thankful. Everyone left me at 8pm, visiting was over. The room suddenly felt very quiet and very big. The nurses were on 30 minute checks on me so I was never "alone" for long, but that night I didn't sleep. Yes my leg was a bit sore, people coming backwards and forwards didn't help me sleep but what I really did was look back on my life and where it had taken me. I speak a bit about it in the bio on this blog but I went all the way back, as back as far as I could, from growing up as an army kid, to moving to Plymouth after my mum and dad split up, school and friends in Plymouth, my first girlfriend and my last girlfriend as I left to join the army. I thought about my army life, the places I had been, the friends I had made, the laughter, the tears, friends lost, a new career, getting married, my kids, and then I thought about the future. This was when the tears came, I want to be there when my kids start and finish school, when they begin their careers or go to university, to walk my daughter down the aisle when she gets married, it all came out of me and I knew at that point I had a fighting chance, better than a lot of people and I vowed again I would do my best to see all those things. The night dragged but every hour I got a bit more feeling back, by the early hours I could move my legs and wiggle my toes, don't get me wrong the pleasure of that was outweighed by the pain now building in my right thigh but it was then I decided I would definitely ask if I could go home the next day, being in here was not helping me, being at home would. I didn't sleep at all just kept counting down the hours until the morning shift came on, I wanted desperately to get up but they wouldn't let me. And then I finally plucked up the courage to ask "Can I go home today?" "we will have to see Darren, the consultant will be around soon and you can ask them?" I sat and waited for them to come, wishing them to come and see me, I had made up my mind in my head, I was going home today, nothing else was acceptable to me today I was going home. I couldn't face breakfast, I didn't want it, I sipped the tea pushed some porridge around the bowl and just looked at the door. When the doctors came in they chatted with me about how I felt, checked my drain and the records to see how I had been through the night and seemed happy enough with how my body was feeling now the epidural was out of my system. As soon as they said " Yes, everything seems fine with you" I pounced!! "Well can I go home today then? My son is in Spain playing football and comes back on sunday and I would love to be able to meet him off the bus when he gets home?" The whole group of doctors looked at me like I had gone mad "Darren, you need to understand you have had major surgery, you probably wont feel like moving for the next couple of days, we need to monitor your drain as well". "Ok well with regards to the moving I want to get up now, I've been weeing in a pot for the last day and I am not doing it again, I want to use the toilet. I'm also an intelligent bloke, tell me what to do with the drain and I'll do it, my wife is an occupational therapist, she'll know what to do as well" They saw the look on my face and I guess decided there would be no reasoning with me "Ok, I tell you what we will get the physiotherapists to assess you and get your nurse specialist to have a chat as well and if they are happy, well you can go home." That was all I needed to hear, I would talk to Nichola and get her to say yes if need be and as for the physio, no problem!! The physio came to see me mid morning and asked me how I felt, I told her I was going home today after I had seen her and had an assessment. She looked at me and smiled "let's just see shall we, I'll get some crutches and we can see if you can walk first" She came back with a pair of crutches, her and the nurse put my trainers on for me and they said "OK, sit up carefully, we will check the crutches are right and then if you're up to it we can try and walk." The squaddie in me had already decided I was fine, not a problem, swing my legs over the bed and walk. So I sat, swung my legs over the edge of the bed, put the crutches on my arms and stood up ready to walk.... I came to laid back on the bed! The second I stood up I apparently passed out, the proverbial sack of potatoes, the nurse and physio caught me before I was a crumpled heap on the floor and had moved me back on the bed. I looked up into the physio's face and I was fed up, I was proper pissed off. "Please just one more chance, I know I can do it, I'm not sure what happened, but I can do it, just give me a chance? Please?" She must of had some pity for me "Ok, look eat some food and get some fluids in you, I'll be back in a couple of hours and we can try again." that was the deal and suddenly I was hungry and thirsty. I would of eaten anything and as soon as some food was put in front of me it was gone. Energy for when she came back, energy to get me home today. Nichola came to see me just after lunch, she came in with her big smile and talked to me some more about the surgery, she told me again how happy they all were with how it had gone. They would now test the tumour and also the tissue samples taken from the edges of the cuts to make sure there was no cancer left in my leg. I started to talk to her about it a bit more, I was happy, I truly was but the talks of testing did stir those feelings deep down that I was currently keeping under control, I could feel them creeping up and it must have shown because she told me "just enjoy today and the feeling you have, looking at your scans the tumour was shrinking and Miss Rawle is very happy, enjoy the moment." We talked a bit about me going home, she was happy for me to do it as long as everyone was happy, she probably just didn't want me moaning at her all week! So now it was a case of sitting and waiting for the physio to come back, I was building it up in my head, I was ready this time and I was walking. The physio came back and she had my crutches in her hand again, my trainers were on and ready so when the nurse came in my legs were already swinging and my feet aiming for the floor. "Are you sure Darren? take your time." I was ready my feet were already down and I was moving upwards, my head went fuzzy and my eyes went blurry. No way, not this time, I closed them, deep breath and reopened them. I felt OK, I was ready to go. She explained the way to walk, good foot forward, then crutches and bad foot with some weight through the bad foot as well, don't try to do it all on your arms. With that I was away, slowly very slowly, and if I'm honest the pain was immense. When I put my right leg down it hurt, when I lifted my right leg it hurt. The sweat was pouring down me before I got out the room but the target was the end of the corridor, if I could get there and back I could get home. I would not stop until we had done that journey. It took me a while but I did it, we got back to my room and she said she would fill in the paperwork and I could go this afternoon. When she left the room I let out the biggest sigh ever, I was in absolute agony it felt like my leg was on fire but still all I could think about was getting home. Emma came in to visit me at 2 and was shocked that I could go home, she hadn't expected that, she thought I would be in for the week. The nurses came down and explained how to look after my drain, how to empty it and what needed recording. They explained my painkillers and when I needed to take them, signed some more forms and that was it, I was on my way out of the hospital. They brought a wheelchair that I had no intention of getting in, no way I didn't need it, I would walk out. As I write this I realize just how stubborn a person I am, every time I lost what I believed to be control of the situation I became stubborn, obstinate even and that was generally when I got upset. I never realized I was that way until I started writing this blog, of course I knew I like things doing my way, I liked my routine and that I don't suffer fools gladly or hold back when I encounter them but it is only as I write this that I see most of my problems were down to me trying to control things I couldn't. I conceded and got in the wheelchair and Emma pushed me out of the hospital, the fresh air was wonderful, I was petrified the previous morning as I walked in that I wouldn't be coming out again, there would be a problem with the anesthetic and I would die on the table. Yes ridiculous I know but I had convinced myself, my brain had told me that so it must be true. Now I just wanted to sit there and breathe, the sun on my face and the air in my lungs felt good, it was a moment to just enjoy, one of those moments you keep in your mind, one you can always go back to, one you can always feel no matter how long passes. I had to get in the car, that was a feat in itself, I couldn't find a way to bend my leg and get it in without the pain making me wretch. I moaned, wretched, cried and wretched again but finally it was in and the car was heading up the A52 back towards home. I walked in the door and everyone was happy to see me, buzzing that I was back and that it was all a success. I hate to say it but I just wanted my bed, I didn't want to speak, I wanted to sleep, it was 4pm on Friday afternoon, I had been awake since 8 o clock on the Wednesday morning and now I was ready to sleep, I needed to sleep, I was exhausted. I climbed onto my bed, put a pillow under my leg and laid out. I slept as soon as my head hit the pillow although I remember that for the first time in months my thought as I went to sleep wasn't I've got cancer.
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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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