Well here we are again. I say ‘we’, it’s me of course, I’m on my own for this one, nobody else can stand in for me. I’m sitting at home waiting for the call that tells me a bed is available at North Manchester General Hospital that will enable liver surgery to proceed tomorrow. Of course they will find me a bed, I’m the only patient listed for surgery tomorrow, and so they won’t cancel and waste a days surgery time. But nonetheless I still have to go through the procedure of phoning, and phoning back, and phoning back yet again. Bed managers are ferocious people you know, they have the power to throw anyone out, and deny anyone entry. I’ve seen it first hand on many occasions, standing up to consultants and ward sisters as they make their way around the wards looking for spare beds. My advice is don’t go to the bathroom or leave the ward until the bed manager has completed their rounds, there might not be a bed for you when you get back.
For those of you who don’t know, the surgery I’m going in for is a liver re-section. They are planning to take another chunk out of what’s left of my liver. Hopefully the chunk will include the two tumours that are lurking within the mass of liver that remains after the right hepatectomy last December. In lay terms that means complete removal of the right side of my liver. I was under the impression that the liver regenerates fully, but I have since learned that it has only managed to regenerate to 45% of it’s original size, so they’ll be taking a slice out of that. I had my pre op checks a couple of weeks ago, and saw the anaesthetist a few days after that. Initially I was a little concerned at the fact that the anaesthetist was more than a little concerned at the collapsed lung, pneumonia and two lung re-sections I had encountered since we last met, but on reflection I should be reassured that she is aware of everything. Fore-warned is fore-armed.
At last, I got the opportunity to see ‘Warpaint’. The all female foursome from California I have been chasing around Glastonbury for a couple of years, and never quite managed to see. The tickets were a birthday pressie from M, yet it was still touch and go as to whether we would make it as there was a possibility that I would be listed for surgery last week. As it was, another patient needed the surgeons skills more urgently than I did, and so I was grateful that I got to see them. Unfortunately that means that I won’t be seeing The Villagers this week, for whom I bought tickets months ago, not knowing that I had tumours lurking in my liver. It seemed that I couldn’t give the tickets away, as no-one had heard of them, despite their Mercury Prize nomination. We did manage to give them away in the end. I’m gutted that we couldn’t go, but I’m glad that they went to someone who appreciated them.
Finally, I had a special guest staying last weekend. I would never have imagined it myself, not exactly being a cat lover, in fact quite the opposite. Cliff (Richard) came to stay accompanied by M. A recent addition to M’s household, Cliff was intended to be a companion for Jasmine, M’s cat of some thirteen years. Cliff however had other ideas, and turns out to be a little s#@t when M is away from home and does nothing but aggravate Jasmine.
In fact it’s not only when M isn’t there, he can be a little s#@t all the time, although he is probably only doing what kittens do, and Jasmine is just too old and set in her ways to appreciate it. And so Cliff came to stay, and was the perfect kitten throughout his stay. He settled in rather too well, explored every nook and cranny he could find, almost got stuck under the bed after climbing through one of the drawers, but on the whole was the perfect pet. They’ve gone home now, don’t tell anyone, but I think I will miss him. Oh, and before you jump to any conclusions, the name in no way reflects M’s taste in music.
See you in a week or so….fingers crossed.