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| EXPERIENCES
> Alan's Story :: A Story for Ryan > Before the
Operation |
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Alan sadly passed away on the night
of 5 September 2004. He was a regular
poster on the Mouth Cancer message board.
His sister's and friends' final words
can be found here. |
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August 23rd 2002
If you’ve ever been in a hospital
waiting room the chances are that your appointment
has, at one point or another, been delayed by anything
from 10 minutes to even 2 hours! That day was no
exception as I was sat waiting in the “Oral
Maxillo Facial Department”. I had never heard
of it before and only at a later date would I learn
what it meant.
It had been just over two weeks since I went to
see my G.P. with an annoying mouth ulcer. He first
prescribed me a course of Amoxycillin for a week.
When the medication had not had any effect, he then
referred me to the Middlesbrough General, where
I saw a postgraduate doctor. She tried her best
to separate my tongue from my mouth; I had no idea
that my tongue was so long! After speaking to some
other medical professionals, she got me inspected
by more doctors and then finally informed me that
I was to have a biopsy.
“Sure, when would you like me to come back?”
“No, you’re going to have it now!”
At this point, let me tell you that the only other
time that I’m aware of that I had been in
hospital, was the day that I was born! I phoned
my Mam to tell her that I could be some time as
they wanted more tests.
I sat in a dentist’s chair to be informed
of the procedure and to sign a consent form for
the biopsy. I'd never had a minor operation before.
After a quick incision it was all over, and my tongue
felt it had outgrown my mouth! They would contact
me.
I was telephoned while at work and told to come
in to the hospital in a couple of days. So this
brings me back to the waiting room.
“Alan Lawson”, it was my turn.
The consultation room was only small to say the
least. Several other professionals and a nurse,
who sat beside me, entered the room. There were
7 or 8 people with me in the room and was a bit
crowded!
Professor Avery introduced himself and several others
within the room. What he was about to tell me would
totally change my life forever! But this man probably
says this 2 or 3 times a day!
“Mr.Lawson, we’ve discovered a growth
on your tongue that’s cancerous, you’ve
got Oral cancer!”
Who was he talking to? It certainly can’t
be me! At this point the nurse, who sat beside me,
held my hand. I later found out that Jill Skelton
was a Macmillan nurse, and was to become a great
friend, not just my nurse. Nothing else seemed to
register in the next 5 minutes; I was allocated
another appointment and also an appointment for
a C.T. scan.
On my way home, I had sent a text to Angela and
my Mam. Being told you have cancer is not an experience
many people have to go through. I had to tell my
parents and that wasn’t easy.
The next day, I went shopping as if nothing was
wrong. While out, I phoned Angela who had been my
partner for 5 years before we had separated the
year before; we had a son together. Trying to tell
her was harder than I had thought. I’d kept
her up to date so far but telling her I had cancer
was hard!
“How?” was her reply as she knew full
well that I didn’t smoke and certainly wasn’t
a heavy drinker! As I explained more about what
might or might not happen, I could hear her getting
quieter and quieter, more through shock that someone
like me had got cancer.
September 9th 2002
Having a C.T. scan can easily frighten many people
and it’s easy to understand why. You lie on
a bed which is slowly moved forward and you’re
asked to practice holding your breath for a certain
amount of time while trying not to move. You’re
talked through what’s about to happen, and
what to do if you have a panic attack. After this
practice run you’re brought out, you’re
given an injection of fluid that sends a warm sensation
through your veins and then you’re moved back
into the scanner. Communication is through a two-way
system and they’re always talking to you.
When the scanner is started up, it’s a high-pitched
revving sound and it’s like you’re in
another place, completely by yourself! After it’s
over, there’s a sense of relief at getting
out. It is easy to understand how the whole experience
can be frightening to some people.
September 11th 2002
The events of today were not known to me as I had
my own priorities and New York was a million miles
away. The results of my scan were through and only
confirmed what we already knew but they were necessary
to back up what the specialists diagnosed. I was
also told I was going to have an exploratory operation.
This is basically a dry run to see what would happen
if I went under anesthetic, and to check a few things
in my mouth that would be easier than if I was conscious.
It was to be scheduled for the 16th, the same date
my sister was due in hospital to have her first
child!
After dropping my sister off at the North Tees hospital,
I drove home to catch the bus to Middlesbrough General.
Despite living only 20 miles apart, we have different
health authority trusts; in fact the hospitals are
less than 4 miles apart from each other. My operation
was for 12-noon and I arrived, just before 10am,
only to find out that all operations had been delayed!
This was to be my second minor operation since the
biopsy; it’s called an exploratory operation
but nothing is really done besides looking about
and seeing how I’d cope under anesthetic.
Jill Skelton gave me a comforting talk about the
operation, followed by the anesthetist to sign consent
forms.
After the operation, I came round quickly and phoned
my parents to say I was okay and that I could go
home. I also found out that my sister was okay and
had just had a baby girl!
The following day I was back at work, which was
the way it had been since I found out that I had
developed cancer; I’d only told my boss and
the store manager about my illness. Working in Debenhams
with over a hundred other people working there,
I couldn’t face the sympathy I’d be
getting. People also tend to associate cancer with
death being certain, and begin to treat you as though
the inevitable is about to happen! I also needed
to carry-on as normal for my own sanity as I didn’t
want to be completely overcome by cancer. I’d
even penciled in a date to return to work as I’d
been told that recovery from the operation would
take 12 weeks. And I had decided that, that would
be when I would return to work! In the meantime,
I visited my sister, Joy, in hospital so that I
could see how she was and to see my newly born niece.
I was next in hospital on the 25th, mainly to see
the radiographer to discuss the possibilities of
radiotherapy, as a follow up treatment, after the
operation. However, tests had revealed that it was
almost certain that it wouldn’t be needed!
My operation was to be on the 27th, so I had to
be in hospital the next day to give blood, take
various tests and to be weighed. At that point I
actually tipped the scales at 15 1/2 stone! I was
up early that day, as I had to have everything ready
before leaving and see my mother who wanted to visit
me for support! On arrival to the ward, the first
thing that hit me was how old all the patients were,
however, most of them were for broken bones; only
a few were oral surgery patients! I had my own room,
which was more to do with avoiding infection and
the amount of equipment that would be around me
after my operation.
Various nurses and doctors visited me, all wanting
to perform various activities, like taking my blood
and measuring its pressure, etc. I have a natural
heart rate of 38 bpm, which upset one student doctor
who proceeded to bring in various syphigometers
believing that they were all either broken or I
was dead!
My last meal was teatime, although I did have coffee
and biscuits for supper. I’m usually scared
of things I don’t know and, that day, I was
petrified. Although I knew exactly what was going
to happen and why it was being done, I still felt
unsure of what to really expect as I had never had
a major operation before.
At night, I phoned my Mam, and then settled into
bed, watched television and went to sleep. I’m
an early riser and was up at six to get showered
before my operation, as I was showing my body in
theatre it might as well have been clean! A nurse
came into my room and handed me a pair of tights!
“Put them on Alan.”
“Yeah, that’ll be right!”
“No, seriously put them on. They’re
to prevent D.V.T”
“OK, then…”
Didn’t I look fetching? Wearing paper knickers,
an operating robe and now a pair of tights! Any
level of dignity I had left just flew out of the
window!
Last minute checks were made as I got onto the operating
table and Jill wished me good luck. I was on my
way. Yet another check outside the theatre, as to
what I was having done, made sure my B.P. was normal
and my pulse was still there!
"Put this mask on Alan, it’ll help you
breath!" It sure would and I would wake up
later covered in bandages!
"Alan! Alan wake up, your operation is over!"
I think I had been woken up Saturday, but my next
bout of consciousness was Sunday, which was in fact
my birthday. "Happy Birthday" was my most
hated phrase of the day! Anyone wishing it was promptly
told where to go!
During various states of consciousness, I can remember
various things like how I sat upright and attempted
to remove the bandages off my arm. When I was fully
awake my nurse informed me that the staff had told
her, that while she had been on her break, I’d
been quiet determined in taking my bandages off
and I had to be held down while they fastened them
back on. Asked by the staff where I thought I was
going, I’d told them that I was going to work.
What stopped me? They told me that it was Saturday
and I don’t work Saturdays!
While in ITU, what I found that was frightening
was the chilling scream of a little girl that had
been recently operated on, who was now awake and
in total pain from the operation!
On Monday, I was moved into my ward and had my first
visit from my Mam and various other medical staff.
I don’t remember much of my Mam’s visit
as I fell asleep while she was there! Tuesday was
my first fully conscious day and I was able to notice
various pipes and stuff coming off my body as well
as a ventilator-like mask to help me breath.
My speech therapist visited me to see how things
had gone. As well as teaching me how to talk again,
Shannon helps her patients learn to swallow properly
which, in turn, helps you learn to talk better!
Prof. Avery also visited every day along with just
about everyone that worked in the hospital! No sooner
had one person come and gone, then another rolled
in; student doctors, nurses and postgraduate doctors.
An NHS manager wanted to do a questionnaire on what
I thought about the hospital! And I was offered
meals everyday despite being fed through a tube
up my nose!
I was advised that once I was able to swallow water
without choking or it spilling back out, I would
be fed the liquidized food, then allowed home. This
was to be my way off getting out!
During a restless night, I pulled out a tube from
my body that acted as a drain. Great, I was almost
unchained! During the night, I couldn’t sleep
because of the noise on the ward. So while I was
awake, I practiced drinking; after nearly choking
on the fist few mouthfuls, I got round to being
able to swallow small amounts of water. The next
bit was being able to close my mouth so that the
water didn’t flow back out. This was harder
than it seems!
Part of the operation was to slice open my face
and my neck to gain full access to my tongue. The
pipe work under my neck required making a cut from
my lip, down my neck and up to my ear in a swooping
incision to pull my face open. So now my lips were
stitched back together and my skin was stapled all
down my neck! So closing my lips for a tight seal
would certainly take practice. I managed to drink
some fluid after a certain amount of practice but
not too much, as it would induce choking. And choking
would be of no help as it’s considered close
to drowning - filling the lungs with water!
As for feeding, that was done through a tube that
had been inserted in my nose. I didn’t like
that at first so I removed it during a half conscious
state, only to hack it back up with a feeling of
being sick. So the next time it had to be done while
I was awake, which was not fun. The tube is about
18-24 inches long though it only feels about 10
inches long. Still, it took some persuasion for
me to ‘inhale’ it in! Having food pumped
into you soon became tedious so I tried everything
to lessen the time span. I started off early as
possible and then turn it off while I went for a
shower or switched it off while no one was looking.
And in case they figured out that the food wasn’t
being consumed, I’d tip some into a bowl and
pour it down the sink!
It was coming up to a week after the operation and
I felt as though I’d been there for an eternity.
I felt as though I was climbing the walls! As I
was making progress, I was told that I might be
able to leave after the weekend.
Swallowing became an art form of tilting my head
back and letting the fluid flow down my throat.
Only one drawback after showing the doctor how I
drank water, I had a visit from Shannon! To say
she was not impressed was an understatement! I had
to adjust my style of drinking and she was now visiting
everyday to make sure I was drinking properly. Bugger!
I soon readjusted and was able to sip large amounts
of water without any problems and demonstrated this
to the Professor, who said I should try soup and
pured food. He also took out my nasal tube, which
was great! My first meal took about 30 minutes to
swallow down. I didn’t care; I was getting
out the next day! My sister and brother-in-law visited
that night for the first time; Joy doesn’t
like tubes and pumps as it makes her upset. Anyway,
I arranged transport home.
Getting home was a major accomplishment. But even
all that experience could not prepare me for what
lay ahead!
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Alan sadly passed away on the
night of 5 September 2004. He
was a regular poster on the Mouth
Cancer message board. His sister's
and friends' final words can be
found here. |
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