and come out fighting 🙄
Some weeks ago at the insistence of my wife and continued pressure from my Doc I agreed to undergo a top and bottom procedure / assault performed upon my aging carcass. I’ve been keeping my sister Carole, (who some of my readers have become aware of through these pages); up to date by email. Carole lives in France for some reasons or other which of course are a complete mystery to me. Why on earth would anybody choose to live there when they can live here in Australia?
Undoubtedly there’s reason for concern there 😛
I have been “Cc’ing” updates to some of my chums and buddies through my “BccChums” list, and it dawned on me that I am neglecting some of my chums in the ‘WorldPress’ world so I’ve decided to bore the lot of you with the continuing melodrama, saga of my impending clash with a different cancer.
As I started to say in the first paragraph I finally agreed to get myself checked out, and my good doctor pressured the A W Morrow Gastroenterology and Liver Centre (attached to the RPAH) to get me checked out, he was worried by my increasing anemia. So he got me booked in for a Flexible Sigmoidoscopy and Gastroscopy on the 26th March; doesn’t that sound exciting 
Armed with my book (P & P, only had a few chapters to go) I duly presented myself at the ‘Centre’ an hour or so early and I was prepped and ready to go; naturally I’d done everything that I was supposed to do, so I thought, and when Nurse Kerry (not the wife) put a question to me and I answered in the negative I naturally put the whole schedule out for the afternoon and as a consequence of my own stupidity I got shoved to the end of the victims. I had been scheduled first to go at 1400 hours I think it was, but I didn’t get done ’til after 1600 hours. Mea culpa! 
When I came round after the anesthetic I got dressed had a delightful sandwich; I hadn’t eaten for 48 hours I’d had nothing but cups of tea and water since Tuesday evening.
In the interim they’d rang Kerry and asked her to come and get me and when she arrived they escorted me to the exit, probably pleased to see the back of me, and transferred me to her care and told me to come back on the 16th April to get the results of the FS&G thingy.
However, on the 2nd April the Thursday before Easter, I got a phone call from the secretary/receptionist of a Professor S. asking if I could come in to see the professor on Easter Tuesday morning to discuss the results of the tests and she suggested 0800 hours, I explained that I couldn’t possibly make it and asked what was the latest and she suggested 1730 hours.
As I’d never heard of this Professor S before I naturally went online to find out what I could about him; it turns out he’s a Professor at the University of Sydney Medical School and you’ve guessed it, specializes in cancer; and liver transplants is a speciality.
So at 1730 on Tuesday Kerry ( that’s Kerry my wife not Kerry the nurse) and I went along to see the prof who prefers ‘Doctor’ to ‘Professor’ and what a lovely man he is, instilled instant confidence didn’t beat around the bush, told me straight out that I had a tumor in the oesophagus, I asked “is that cancer?’ and he said yes. He advised me that it was a very big operation with some risk to remove it but he’d had great success, having only ever having one patient die on him. This patient was a pretty old bloke of 84 and died 3 days after the operation from a stroke. I told him that I’d already had my stroke a few years back so no problems there and anyway I’m only 80. 😉
Next day I get another call from the PET Department at the RPAH telling me that Doctor S had requested they contact me and make an appointment to come in for a ‘Whole Body FDG PET-CT scan”, that was on Wednesday and they booked me in for Friday the 10th at 1020 hours.
These medical people are not messing about wasting time or procrastinating, right on time at 1020 they had me weighed measured and prepped and then I sat in the most gorgeous comfortable chair for an hour whilst some stuff that they’d shoved into my veins could circulate, I fiddled with the butttons got so comfortable that I dozed off and they had to wake me up to go into the room for the scan.
It was all over by 1245 hours, I don’t have to check back with the Centre on the 16th, I just have another appointment with the good doctor/professor on the 16th instead, when I suppose he’ll tell me when he will operate. But I wouldn’t mind betting he sends me off to see a heart specialist first 😉
It might be a good idea if I do any further update on proceedings here instead of cluttering up everybody’s email in boxes, you might let me know what you’d prefer 💡
I might include some pictures of me without skin on, then again I might not 😀
LordBeariOfBow 
Oh dear. Sounds as if you are in good hands but what a drama! My brother had a cancer at the junction of the oesophagus & stomach recently. It was a big operation, but he is fifteen months down the track and didn’t need any follow up radiotherapy or chemo. My very best wishes to you for a similar recovery.
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Thanks Gwen for the good wishes. I think you’re right about being in good hands, even though I’d never met or heard of the ‘Professor’ before I was instantly put at ease and felt comfortable and had confidence in him. He did say it was a big operation as you mentioned, seems my cancer is in the self same spot as your brothers.
The Prof is conducting these tests to see if he thinks my decrepit old body will withstand it before he commits to cutting me open. In the past 10 years I’ve had major surgery for prostate cancer and a stroke, both carotid arteries were opened up and cleaned out, so I’ll just have to wait and see, I might know come Thursday what his plans are.
Thanks again for the good wishes, I appreciate them. Cheers Brian aka beari 😀
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I am glad to read that you are able to tell the difference between Kerry, your wife, and Kerry, the nurse. Excellent sign.
Neill probably already told you but just to let you know, you are on the St Brendan’s Prayer List, which is better than going to Lourdes, and yes the St Brendan’s Prayer List success rate has reached the ears of the Holy Father.
Wishing you well and well soon, and I do hope that the treatment you are undoing is not too awful.
best wishes, Ira
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Good heavens Ira the Pope might make me a saint 😀 🙄
Thank you Ira for the good wishes; 🙂
By the bye; is this St Brendan you talk about Brendan Cavanagh my old Irish drinking mate in Melbourne 60 years ago; I’m sure he must have drunk himself to death by now 😈
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well it is an Irish Parish Church, so there is obviously a goodish connection.
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Bound to be Ira 🙂
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