Monthly Archives: June 2008

26 June 2008

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Our new next-door neighbours have moved in. Three large pantechnicons arrived mid-morning yesterday from Lincolnshire and spent most of the day unloading. Two of them then stayed overnight and finished unloading this morning. They left around midday, while I was in the city, paying in some cheques. The street seemed strangely bright.

Mary, the new neighbour, had warned everyone what was going to happen, and police no-parking cones were installed the previous night. We were a bit worried because Dot had arranged for our carpet to be cleaned that afternoon, but in the event it wasn’t a problem. The carpet-cleaning van got into the drive, and the operation went smoothly.

My visit to the city today was the most adventurous I’ve been, though I have been for a short walk every day this week. I’m feeling quite good, but the catheter is uncomfortable. It’s difficult to find an easy position to sit in for any length of time. And it’s strange how vulnerable you feel. What if someone punches me in the stomach? Never mind that no-one has ever punched me in the stomach – the fact that you know you’re very weak there is never far from your mind. You can sympathise with people who are always vulnerable and have to live life like that.

While I was in the city, Dot has been to see her aunt in Hethersett and paid her monthly visit to Park Farm. Phil is due round this afternoon to tell me about his day in Coventry yesterday, when he attended a meeting at The Langleys. Apparently he had a very good return journey and was able to see much of the Euro 2008 semi-final between Germany and Turkey. Turkey were all over Germany; so of course Germany won, 3-2. Euro 2008 is like that. Dot and I have been watching a bit of Wimbledon too. Natalie Dechy deserved to beat the number one seed, so of course she didn’t.

On Tuesday Dot took the MX5 up to be serviced: it passed with no trouble, which is hardly surprising in view of its low mileage. In the evening our Tuesday Group was bring-and-share, and the six of us had a great time: an exceptional feeling of togetherness. I felt pretty good during it all, but of course tired afterwards. I’m reading a couple of books: one by Umberto Eco which is beautifully written and unusual – about a man who loses all his personal memories, but can remember the plots of books. The other is a criticism of the emergent church which has huge holes in it but also some points I haven’t made my mind up about yet. Lucy also sent me an Amy Carmichael book which I have barely started. And I thought I would have loads of spare time! I got out about a dozen videos out of the garage to watch in bed, but so far I’ve only seen a selection of Hancock episodes, which are certainly cheering.

The district nurse came to see me on Tuesday as planned, and removed the dressing from my drain wound, which seems to have healed well. The operation scar also seems fine, and my general functioning down there seems to be sorting itself out. Roll on Sunday, when the catheter is removed. That will seem a huge step in the recovery process.

The weather this week has been quite summery (apart from some brisk winds), which has been good for me, because it means I can go for walks and enjoy long bright days. Hard to believe that the nights are already drawing in – in fact I think I shall refuse to accept it. I’ve written a couple more poems based on the hospital experience, making about five in all, I think. They probably need a bit more work, but two or three of them are quite reasonable.

23 June 2008

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For comparison, this is today’s picture of me, exactly a fortnight after the operation, in the garden. The latter is recovering after yesterday’s high winds, which broke a few pots and scattered shrubs. It also brought down quite a hefty branch into the drive of No 19, which was cleared away by the council this morning. When I went out for a brief walk yesterday afternoon – although it was windy, it was also warm – I was struck on the shoulder by a much smaller branchlet as I made for the steps. Felt reasonably good after the walk, and in the evening we did go to Poringland to see the Robinsons and the Walpoles. Stayed for a couple of hours, and I didn’t really have any trouble, though I was feeling tired by the end.

Today my catheter has been a bit painful, and I took some paracetamol this morning after Phil had visited – but nothing too bad. In the afternoon I went for another walk – this time down by the river. Had quite a long chat with Anton on the way out and Phyllis and Mairead on the way back; so the street is up to date on my condition!

21 June 2008

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Another picture from Winterton, this time me on my last excursion before the operation, when we walked in the valley that leads down to Hemsby. Dot was the photographer. She has just gone out to the cinema to see Sex and the City. I would also quite like to see it, but I don’t feel up to it yet – not quite at ease outside, though the catheter seems to be working OK. I was extremely annoyed this morning to get a letter saying it would be taken out on July 5 – a week later than anticipated. I have already put in a phone call, but of course there’s no-one there on a Saturday, or if they are, they aren’t responding. When I can get hold of someone I shall try and get it taken out next weekend, which is what the consultant said. It’s a bit of a drag being attached to it all the time.

Other than that, things seem to be going well. I’ve been feeling quite strong, though I had to lie down yesterday afternoon while Dot went to Blakeney to meet the Evetts and friends, who are having the annual reunion there. Sad to have to miss it, but all being well, we’ll be back next year!

Have done quite a bit of reading, plus catching up with e-mails and old newspapers. Tomorrow, if I feel OK, we may go over to Poringland to see the Walpoles, who are in temporary residence at the Robinsons’.

19 June 2008

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A longer gap than I’d anticipated. My operation – a radical prostatectomy and hernia repair – took place on June 9, and the first three days afterwards were pretty unpleasant. I was in quite a bit of pain from trapped wind, for which they gave me morphine, which in turn gave me extremely unpleasant sensations, distorting reality and slowing down time. Yes, it really happens – or possibly doesn’t really happen, but you think it does, so effectively it does. Maybe it speeds up your brain. Sounds harmless, but it’s very frightening. Shutting your eyes doesn’t help.

By late Friday, however, that was going away, and then it was a gradual struggle to get my temperature down (I was fighting some kind of low-grade infection) and everything back to operating normally. Eventually it happened, though I wouldn’t say my bowels are quite right yet, and of course I have to wear a catheter for a couple of weeks. (This blog is not for people with weak stomachs.) Dot brought me home yesterday at around 11am. I have been told not to do too much – an instruction I am happy to comply with without argument.

While I was in hospital Dot visited twice a day: in the early days this was a life-saver. I also got many, many other visitors. On the Sunday – Father’s Day – my son David drove over to see me as a surprise, which was fantastic, because I was just beginning to feel like something approaching normal. He brought me a book he had been reading – House of Suns, by Alastair Reynolds, which I consumed over the next three otherwise boring days. I can thoroughly recommend this for reading in hospital when feeling and getting better: it’s a great science fiction story and compulsive, easily overcoming peripheral distractions.

While I was in hospital I wrote a few poems (or parts of poems) which I’m hopeful about. I was in a bed with a view across the fields and lots of sky. Five other men in the room: two of them were there when I arrived and still there when I left. Lots of good old Norfolk tradition in there which I hope to write about in due course.

From the outside, hospital looks full of things you want to avoid at all costs: tubes attached to your limbs and torso, frequent injections and blood-taking, catheters, wound-drains – all invasive of your body. When you’re in there, none of that is very significant and you hardly notice the very minor discomfort involved. Presumably this is because something much bigger is happening to you and you have no control over it. You have to just let it happen. Other than the pain and the alienation (see first paragraph), it’s not so unpleasant. Just tedious. One of the worst things is waiting for doctors and nurses to do things: something more important almost always intervenes. A new understanding of the word “patient” has become very clear to me.

I was very fortunate to be in hospital at this time of year, when the days are extremely long. It was not really getting dark till well after 10pm, and the sky was brightening at 3.30am. It was intriguing to watch the changes in the weather. Almost every morning dawned bright and promising, and almost every time rain came later, usually around mid-afternoon after the clouds had gradually gathered. Yesterday as I left it was very windy and spotting with rain – not like flaming June at all. Went out in the garden just now and it’s not exactly sun-drenched, though it’s dry and easily bearable without a coat.

The Walpoles from Canada have landed in England, and we hope to see them at the weekend. Not going too well for them so far, Pete’s GPS has been broken, and one of their suitcases was lost in transit.

The picture above was taken on Winterton beach earlier this month.

8 June 2008

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Dot seen through the remains of a building at Winterton, where we went for a shortish walk this afternoon. Today brought a more than welcome change in the weather, which had been grim all week. The sun came out, and it was warm, with a fresh breeze from the north. We walked out to the beach and then into the valley and back along the dunes.

Enjoyed this morning’s service, where I preached about faith, with special reference to people having their prostate out (!) Used two of my favourite three biblical passages, Job 19: 25-27 and Daniel 3: 17,18.

Yesterday was pretty wet, and I did not venture out, but I did manage to write a piece for my website, among other things. I thought today would be my last chance for a while to go for a walk. On Friday evening we had dinner at Dunston Hall, which was good without being outstanding. Very enjoyable, though, and some good wine. Company excellent (Dot).

Just back from church, where seven of our friends met with us to pray for me and my operation tomorrow. Felt inspiring just to be there, and now feel confident that all will be well. Many others have also said they’ll be praying and thinking of me.

This will probably be the last entry for a while. Should be out of hospital by next weekend, but not sure I’ll be feeling up to writing a blog. We’ll see. June was never my favourite month.

6 June 2008

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Norwich Cathedral in a sunset sky, taken from our bedroom window and later cropped and straightened! See also Flickr and Cathedral website.

Rather a dismal week, weather-wise, with plenty of rain – especially today, when I went up to the hospital with Dot for my pre-operation assessment. Cyclist nurse Liz very pleasant, with a sense of humour. Everything seems OK, but her warnings of what might follow the operation were a little worrying. I don’t really even want to think about catheters and various other tubes draining things from my body. Still, It’ll all be over by Christmas. Came to the sad conclusion that I will not be able to go to Blakeney for the annual reunion in a couple of weeks’ time.

On Tuesday we had a good gathering for our meal (10, with us), and Dot came up with a scintillating starter involving pears, rocket, watercress, mayonnaise and roquefort cheese sauce. Yes, it was a Delia special. Delicious. On Wednesday, stomach juices on alert again: we went with Jessie to the Rushcutters for lunch, and I had a beef and ale pie that was gorgeous. Yesterday the weather relented a bit and we did a few things that had been waiting for a while: took some rubbish to the tip, some other stuff to a charity shop and booked the MX5 in for an MOT and the Mazda 3 for new tyres at some totally horrendous price approximating to £450. You could get nine tanks of petrol for that.

Parked in the city and had lunch at the Espresso in John Lewis – a favourite place for sandwiches and a cup of tea – or in Dot’s case a large piece of cake and a cup of tea. Then bought me a dressing gown for hospital, a new mobile phone for Dot and picked up tickets from the Theatre Royal box office. These were for an Agatha Christie play in the evening – And Then There Were None, the politically correct new title for Ten Little …. Unusual play in that everyone did it. Theatre sparsely populated: started pouring with rain as we walked home, but we made it without getting soaked.

3 June 2008

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Dangerous threesome in typical pose on the Whipsnade train: Dot and Oliver pose for the camera while Amy is suddenly interested in something else entirely. I was minding the buggy while the train set off on its 20-minute journey and the rain started to fall after what had up to then been a very pleasant day. Well, it continued to be pleasant: it just became wet.

Yesterday I went for my cystoscopy, with results that turned out to be “normal” – or as normal as you can be with a camera in your bladder. Uncomfortable, but not exactly painful. He was in and out so quickly that it was hard to see how he could be so sure. Still, ours not to reason why; ours but to do, and hopefully stay alive. Halfway through the afternoon I got a call from the hospital telling me my operation is scheduled for next Monday, which came as a bit of a shock. Interesting how you can be quite blasé about having your prostate out in three weeks’ time, but be reduced to a quivering wreck when told it will be next week. Fortunately Diane, who is giving me some spiritual healing, turned up at just that point, so I had to sit down and relax. Hard to turn my mind off, though. I was working out what would have to be cancelled, who I’d have to tell, what I needed to sort out and so on. In fact if all goes well having it next week will be ideal, because I should be recovered in time for most of the summer events.

I e-mailed the Murrays to tell them what was happening, only to discover that Roger has not been at all well and may have something similar – so they probably won’t be coming in August anyway. Dot had quite a conversation with them on the phone and is very disappointed, as she’d hoped we could celebrate my recovery!

Today we finished watching a TV epic called Flood, which is all about London being inundated by a sea surge. Full of holes (ha!) and not very satisfactory. Instead of fleeing to high ground and drowning on the way, why didn’t everyone go into the nearest building? The first floor would probably have done.

We’ve just been to the supermarket to pick up food for tonight. Quite an oppressive day, or maybe I can’t get the operation out of my mind.

1 June 2008

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Rather a nice picture of Oliver and Amy emerging from the jungle, which not many people know is situated at the rear of their house. Amy is typically nonchalant, while Oliver has managed to find water – not difficult in the circumstances, as the rain had hardly stopped. This weekend has been drier. Yesterday I went out to Paston and found myself involved in Caroline’s poetry workshop, which turned out to be fun. I was reminded about some unusual verse forms that I might employ. Afterwards I walked over to the cliffs through a field of barley and then along the cliff and back: a triangular route of about a couple of miles. Took a few pictures. On the way home followed a stream of 45mph drivers who seem to think going more slowly is going to save them money on fuel. If only they knew how much danger it’s putting them in…

Today was church lunch: a rather odd affair with most of the regulars away but numbers made up by irregular visitors. The service had a strange, disjointed kind of feeling. Trevor is back after his hernia operation, which is encouraging, and Chris has received a temporary all-clear on her tests. In the afternoon Dot and I popped in at Bally Open Studios, mainly to see Rupert, who was there with two of his collaborators – photographer and friend Shirley, and film-maker Mark Sargeant. He is still showing much of his parents’ work, and there was an amusing installation of a man disappearing under sand, which made witty use of the broken factory floor.