My first challenge was I needed to be awake when they performed it! The process was to go in with a camera and "cauteriser" in the groin with a local anaesthetic and push up the the main artery towards the left kidney, whereby using the camera, find the veins and cauterise (or burn them) to seal them, the tumour itself also grows tiny veins that attach themselves to the renal bed. The operation tickled a bit and was psychologically uncomfortable but it finally was over. It had been a bit disconcerting when the senior doctor took over near the end as the junior doctor couldn't find all the vessels. This in hindsight was a key procedure as I still managed to lose a massive amount of blood when the kidney was removed.
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| Intensive Care - post kidney removal (Nephrectomy) operation |
Thursday soon came along and I was taken into surgery where I was given an epidural to help with the pain post op.
The operation lasted all day, I have an 8 inch operation scar from the bottom of my ribs through my belly button where they opened me up to get at my kidney. I lost 7 pints of blood during the operation which was more than half the blood in my body. I also had two stents or tubes sticking out the side of my belly, these were to help excess blood drain out of my body into collection bags.
I woke up completely confused in the recovery room, I had a very kind nurse who tried to answer my ridiculous questions, I remember thinking I was in a Dalek production factory. I was later moved to intensive care where there is a 1 to 1 nurse to patient relationship. The nurse sits at the end of your bed monitoring you 24 hours a day. This is both comforting and invasive in equal measures. I needed to be replenished of blood and was hooked up to a drip infusion. I had tubes for pain and for food and re-hydration going in through my neck.
In the bed next to me was an older woman, she was confused, her nurse was very experienced and attentive, you could see that the lady was distressed to be in hospital and felt unkempt as hospital can strip you of your beauty routines. The nurse decided to wash her hair and put some rollers in . She also did her nails. This is maybe not what you would expect from our nurses, however as it is 1 to 1 care, the nurse was giving her exactly what she needed, A little self esteem goes along way. I remember looking to see if my nails needed doing.
In the bed opposite me was a confused elderly man, he didn't recognise his family. He needed large padded mittens as big as balloons on his hands as he wanted to pull the wires out of his neck. The poor guy had had enough. His nurse and the Sister were up and down all day as he continually attempted to pull them out. Sadly the old guy passed away in the night. The body had been moved on and a new bed was available and waiting when I woke.
My wife was able to sit with me which was a big relief, obviously family and friends at this stage were very nervous and were awaiting news. The news was that I was recovering well.
That day I was moved to the High Dependency Unit (HDU) and I was recovering well, apart from I had developed an allergy to a sleeping pill.
Emma was with me when I suddenly started feeling peculiar, my observation unit was showing nothing out of the ordinary but I had a fast sinking feeling in my chest which was getting stronger and stronger, I also felt sick and was very cold, suddenly the OBS machine started bleeping and within seconds I had 10 people by my bed reacting quickly to the situation, the senior doctor coolly ordered a magnesium injection which was administered and it instantly gave me a warm pleasant feeling from head to toe and the panic was gone. In the melee my wife was ordered out of the room, eventually she was ushered back in, my oxygen levels had dropped so I needed to wear a pressure mask that rushed oxygen into my lungs. The doctors thought the attack was a toxic reaction to the epdidural. The mask remained on which was a worry because my oxygen levels were low. A few hours later a junior doctor came into our curtained off bed area. He was a young guy, who had too much to carry and dropped things as he tried to check charts. He told me that the earlier incident was in fact a cardiac arrest. This news scared us both, this was getting serious.
A more senior doctor came in and performed an ultrasound on my heart, Through the window of my mask, which covered my eyes and nose, I watched his face intently for any change. The doctor was experienced and remained stoic as he looked at the monitor, my heart pumping, seemingly normal to me. He wouldn't answer questions as he left the room.
He and another doctor were soon back and had really bad news for us. I had suffered a very large Pulmonary Embolism (PE). A PE is a blockage in the pulmonary artery, which is the blood vessel that carries blood from the heart to the lungs. I required an Embolectomy, this type of treatment isn't used much. Usually in these circumstances an anti-coagulant would eventually dissolve the clot. Unfortunately for me, my clot was so large and impeded my breathing so badly that they needed to operate as soon as possible. The operation involved taking a camera and what can only be described as a blaster up my artery from my groin, up into my heart and to the site of the clot. If the clot had tumour in it then that would be impossible to blast away or to a size where it can move on.
The Sister on the ward spoke to Emma and told her to get the kids and close family to the hospital as the likelihood of my survival was slim at best. I remember pressing the morphine button repeatedly.
The surgeon who had been called in to perform the operation, spoke privately to my wife He was positive and assertive, however he had to disclose that the operation may not work and that I may not survive the operation. Emma said it was a surreal scene, like something out of a movie. There had only been 4 similar operations that he had performed. The risk was whether blasting would actually dislodge the clot, if it did the second risk was which way the clot went. If it went into the heart then I would be dead instantly, hopefully the clot would be blasted into my lungs.
I had been wearing a pressurised oxygen mask for a number of hours, suddenly it was time to take me down to theatre. the porters arrived with oxygen tanks as they needed to swap as the pressure mask was a permanent fixture in HDU. They started to load the oxygen tanks onto my bed but couldn't open the one they had brought. I was nervous that there was going to be an accident as my feet were perilously close to the top of the tank they were wrestling with. The other tank was about to be used when someone noticed it wasn't oxygen at all but the gas they give to women during childbirth. No one knew where to source some new oxygen and they were running low. We decided to set off with a low amount of oxygen and as a backup, a manual mask that I would need to squeeze to breathe. Emma remembers the journey to the theatre, my oxygen blood levels were dropping as soon as I came off the pressure masks. To make things worse I had an OBS machine in front of me and I could read my level decreasing. The theatre seemed to be at the other end of the hospital, we came to a lift and the bed with the oxygen was too long for the lift, They had to take the monitor off the bed and move a tank to get me in, precious minutes were wasted, every minute my oxygen levels were decreasing. Normally the oxygen level in your blood should be close to 100, my reading was dropping into the 80s, approaching the 70's. I had to move to the manual mask at one stage as the oxygen in the tank finally ran out. We called into A&E to try to source some more oxygen but none was available. We eventually made it into theatre and they hooked up a new tank of oxygen as quickly as possible. I was clawing for breath by this time, a very scary close call.
The next bit of news was equally as traumatic as the lack of oxygen, I was to stay awake during this operation as well. The reason was he needed me to hold my breath at certain points during the operation.
The surgeon was a very jolly, a "lets get on with it" kind of guy, I was put at ease as he moved instruments up my artery, again with a camera, up to my heart.
The anaesthetist whispered reassurances into my ear and I settled down and let them do their job. I remember thinking she was doing the job Tony Green used to do in Bullseye, steadying the thrower's nerves when they needed 101 or more. I did have a clearish head at this point as I steadfastly thought about the importance of being alive for my kids and my wife. I was certain the operation was going to be a success, every now and then I had to hold my breath, following the doctors direction. Unfortunately, I was experiencing involuntary cramps around my diaphragm from the main operation, I was petrified these movements would affect the operation as this was precision surgery. The surgeon started making positive sounds finally, and suddenly it was over successfully, by this time I was almost out of it.
They pushed the trolley back to intensive care, they rounded a corner and my family were stood waiting for me. My heart nearly burst as a big cheer went up, I didn't know my kids had come along with my mum, sister and husband as well as my father in law. I managed to raise my thumb to say thank you for coming and that I was alright. It was one of the most touching moments of my life.
I was brought into intensive care and they quickly strapped a high pressure oxygen mask tight to my face, it was so tight I couldn't lift my head up. My family came in quickly to see me one at a time, I couldn't see them due to the mask. It was so frustrating, as I wanted to hug them all, but looking back it probably saved my life as it pushed oxygen into a recently blocked lung. That night I was hallucinating, I thought there was a conspiracy against me, the next morning I was still sure I was in some spy movie, I didn't believe anyone. This was psychologically very difficult as I thought I was being held against my will and the hospital and the staff were a facade for some sinister plot against me. By the afternoon I had got back to normal and was resting with Emma by my side. I would need an anti coagulant for the next 9 months, I was discharged 10 days later.
Strong bonds are forged in the darkest moments. The nurse who took care of me on the day of my Cardiac Arrest was superb. It was such a hectic, touch and go day for everyone, but I remember trusting my nurse, if she said I was going to be alright then I was dam sure I was going to be. The mind is a very powerful tool and given the right positive signals, words, looks, can make anything possible.
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| The Challenger - weighing in at 180 pounds! |
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