In the pink

We heard today from Andrea, one of the nurses at The Christie. Quent's SCAN IS CLEAR - hooray! That's now nearly 17 years since he was given about a year to live. We are blessed and will be forever grateful to the Christie team, led by Professor Hawkins, who saved Quent's life. 

Andrea was one of the nurses at that time and she's still there, treating patients and saving lives. She told us that they no longer use High Dose Interleuken-2, the amazing treatment which cleared out Quent's cancer, seemingly for good. This is a testament to other immunotherapy treatments which have followed - generally in tablet form, I understand, so easier on the body and the mind. Quent is happy he had the "short, sharp shock" version, avoiding any tablets for years (until his adrenal gland was taken out in 2014, since when he's been on hormone replacement tablets, with no ill side effects). 

So, Quent has outlived Mr Christmas, his surgeon, Professor Gore, the Professor we saw at the Royal Marsden  - and now the treatment itself. We hope everyone else involved in his care remain fighting fit for decades to come and thank them again for what they did. Without them, there would have been no-one to go with Oakley to the Barbie film this week - "in the pink", of course!

Lucky, lucky, lucky

Quent had his (telephone) follow up with Mr Vasdev today. 

We had been feeling very lucky - for Mr Vasdev to agree to give it a go, for the operation not being cancelled during the peak Covid-19 period, for the operation to be completed and for Quent to leave hospital a couple of days later, with no infection and no Coronavirus. That's already a lot of luck.

With a tumour of 3.2cc and a Gleeson score of 4+3, there remained a risk that the cancer had broken through the capsule on the left side. But in fact the surrounding tissue was clear so they must have caught it when it was right at the edge. Well done, Mr Vasdev.

Quent's "jammy b*****" title is retained and there's no need for follow up hormone treatment or radiotherapy. Hooray! We'd be going out to dinner to celebrate if only such things were allowed.

Meanwhile, Mr Vasdev has confirmed that Quent should focus on exercising his pelvic floor and not his petrol saw - so no more chopping logs! He also said Quent should not over walk or over exert himself, but I seem to have been the only one to hear that piece of advice!

Two weeks on...

I wasn’t sure Quentin should be slipping about in the mud and the water, but we’d had a flood warning call and he felt it had to be investigated. I reassured myself that Ranulph Fiennes ran 7 marathons on 7 continents in 7 days just 3 months after his heart attack, so I can’t be the only wife whose « take it easy » advice is ignored. I did manage to keep him inside on Sunday, the day after he left hospital - and our only snow day this winter.  This brings to mind another recuperation period.

By Tuesday, Quent’s catheter and clips had been removed and I was much more relaxed about our little outing:

I might not be a great nurse, but Quent is a top patient. The antibiotics and the painkillers are finished, the wounds are healing beautifully, he’s swapped surgical stockings for walking socks and he’s working hard at the recommended exercises and diet. 

It’s hard to believe that this time two weeks ago, I was still hoping the op would go ahead!

Life is good

Quentin celebrated being able to eat normal food again by having a mince pie (thanks Lucy!), a brownie (thanks Jane) and a slice of Xmas cake.

The days are mainly spent relaxing in the lounge, pretending we’re on a Landmark Trust holiday (but without the wine), with an open fire to the right of him and a lovely snowscape to the left.

Progress is good.‘Normal food’ includes plenty of fresh fruit (Thanks Philip) between the snacks and a good plateful of roast chicken last night. We’ve even been for a short walk to the High Street and back. Life is good, if less high octane than Quent would usually like. 

Thanks for everyone’s support, wishes and witty comments. It’s all a very important part of the recovery process. 

sNOw news is good news

 I won’t keep posting (unless something major happens) but I’ve received quite a few messages asking how Quent slept, so...

...all’s well. Quent slept well, Oakley has gone sledging and I’m grateful Quent came out yesterday ahead of the snowstorm! 

Quent has rejected my ‘breakfast with a view’ set up, in favour of watching the Simpsons in bed. To be fair, it’s the same view and a lot cosier! 

   

Home sweet home

He’s home! Looking and feeling good. He’s only allowed yogurt, jelly and ice cream - and a bag full of drugs. That’s what you get when they operate on your birthday - it’s very rock ‘n roll.

My next post will definitely be a tribute to the skill and dedication of the NHS. Totally amazing. But meanwhile, I have to don my own ‘orderly’ uniform to make my patient a cup of tea! 

The Great Escape

 I woke to a text, saying “Yay, home today.”

I rang Quent who said his drains were being taken out. Mr Vasdev has been round and discharged him, so we can collect him once the pharmacy delivers the drugs. 

I’m not quite sure how he’s pulled this off - or how much it cost him! He has not done any walking (just marching on the spot), tried the stairs or eaten anything. His response to my questions was triumphant. “Yes, but I’ve farted every day”. Lovely.

Oakley will be delighted. What a great birthday present! 

Family time

 This evening we video-called the patient, to see his room and his pipework. He was sitting up in a chair, reading - as he has been for most of the day.

It's certainly not the best shot of Quent, but his smile is as broad as ever and he seemed in good spirits. Tomorrow, apparently, he will be given food for the first time since Wed, to see how the intestines are doing.

Meanwhile, I have become very conscious of how steep our stairs are. I can't wait to have him home, but only when he's ready. 

Oakley will turn 17 tomorrow. Not a great birthday without his friends, his Dad or his present (driving lessons, currently banned), but he's still smiling too. Quent's chirpy mini-me.

My Mister with the Sister in the Lister

 Several of you have asked how Quent is this morning, so here's all I know.

He's very comfortable in his own room in the 'new' hospital. No pain so far (= lots of drugs, I presume). I don't think the hospital is new, but a little Google search does return some rather lovely images, so maybe it's been refurbished - or maybe the part he's in is, indeed, new. The nurses are, apparently, very nice.

 Quentin's understanding is that he won't be out till Monday. I made a schoolgirl error and blurted out that the surgeon had told me Saturday or Sunday - so I may have blown the cover of the nurses who've clearly opened their negotiation at Monday. 

Apparently they had to cut his gut as part of the operation so he's not allowed to eat yet. I've told him very firmly that "no food" includes the chocolate the Nicola and Diane brought round and the mince pies that Vicky and Lucy brought round - all of which is a ticking bomb in his overnight bag. He has a habit of making up his own rules around such things. (Like the cranberry juice he was classifying as a pre op 'clear liquid' even though it said no fruit juice). 

Anyway, the summary is that he's fine and sounding bonny. He had a long chat with Oakley about last night's online Explorers session.