Three years
Today it is exactly three years ago that I went into surgery to come out of it with the diagnosis of cancer. A day that has seriously altered my life.
I said I would write more about the history of the process. Well, in the weeks leading up to the 28th little happened. The assumed hemorrhoid grew and grew. 3 Surgeons had a look at it a week before and all of them confirmed that diagnosis.
In the meantime it had begun to ulcer, as I had forgotten to tell my doctor that I have a latex allergy. For those with a strong stomach (be warned, it’s not nice), this 
is what it looked like, hours before the surgery.
And I will never forget the remark by my surgeon, during the operation: “I don’t have a clue what I am removing here”. I then should have known that something was seriously wrong.
During the day the post-op pain knocked in, seriously. I received paracetamol, even a drip with diclofenac, but both medications have no effect on me. I need ibuprofen. I begged and I screamed; unfortunately, it was not part of the regular protocol of the hospital. By the time the pain started manifesting itself it was already evening, so I had to wait till the next day for a doctor to decide that they could give me ibuprofen. The next morning he agreed and then they brought it in industrial quantities…. It helped a lot and I went home around midday.
It was only 2 days later, when the wound burst open, that I realised something serious was happening. A week after surgery I went for my control and got the news. Why they had to wait a week I still don’t know. But they immediately went into a rush. The next day at 8.30am I went to see the oncologist. And that was the start of a real horror story.
To be continued…
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