Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts

Monday, August 19, 2019

MacArthur Park - A Schwannoma Diary (#15).

It's a strange experience being a "guest" in the place where you work. Even after a few times, I've never entirely gotten used to it. The faces you see every day...it feels like they see you differently. Maybe they do. Maybe they don't. It's just a feeling.

I was whisked through to radiology as soon as I checked in to undergo the pre-operative mapping X-Rays of my thoracic spine. This is so the surgeon has accurate images of where she needs to enter in order to place the paddles onto my spinal cord. I have a whole bunch of writing and drawing on my back where the radiographer labelled everything. I'd take a selfie, but it's a bit hard and I don't really want to.

I'm waiting now. There's an hour to go before the 2pm list begins. I know I'm third on that list so I'm thinking it'll be around 5pm by the time I go under. I have a nice room with a window that looks over some cloisters. They remind me of the cloisters I wrote about in "The Recipient" so that's nice.

My daughter Lucy made sure she packed her multicoloured Llama into my overnight bag this morning. She said it would bring me good luck. When I dropped the children off at school this morning, her bottom lip bulged and I saw a tear. I thought I saw a tear.



I panicked this morning because I didn't have an anaesthetic song. That's a song that you take in your head to the pre-op area - one that's supposed to keep you calm, maybe inspire you. I recounted in a previous post that I got the idea from Michael J. Fox who took Pearl Jam's "Given To Fly" with him into one of his surgeries. 

I have Jimmy Webb's "MacArthur Park" stuck in my head. I didn't necessarily want it, but it's there and I guess it'll do. There is only one version of MacArthur Park that is satisfactory to me though...


See you on the other side...

DFA.

Monday, April 23, 2018

Anxiety At The Edge.

I'm back here. 

Again. 

Again???

There has been a disturbing turn in a direction with my health - one that seems inconceivable to me after the past two years of multiple surgeries on my throat

I was in a place towards the end of last year, where it seemed as though we had found a solution to the choking problems I was experiencing. I had begun receiving a series of injections of botulinum toxin - (yeah that botulinum toxin) - in an effort to paralyze a dysfunctional region of my throat that was randomly going into spasm during the act of speech and swallowing.  

After what was a hopeful response, I've had a major setback. My dysfunctional throat, which seems determined to kill me, is not responding to the treatment. To be specific, the injections were designed to paralyze a ring of muscle at the top of my throat - just under the vocal cords - called the cricopharyngeal ring.



In its normal state, that ring of muscle is supposed to relax and contract rhythmically with the act of swallowing, allowing food to pass safely into the oesophagus. During speech, it is supposed to contract and stay contracted in order to facilitate airflow over the vocal cords. 

In me, the cricopharyngeal ring spasms uncontrollably during swallowing and speaking, leaving me at risk of food and liquid regurgitating into my airway and lungs. Food and fluid on the lungs is not a good thing.

Basically - you can drown. And I have come close a few times. 

This all relates back to the dysfunctional nerve supply in my neck that precipitated the surgery I had on my vocal cords in 2016 and 2017. Initially, we believed that only my vocal cords were affected. It turns out the pharynx is involved as well. 

So where to? 

I can't believe I'm saying this - much less typing it - but I'm going back into hospital for more surgery. 

The only credible path for me to take now is to undergo a procedure in which the cricopharyngeal ring, along with part of the pharynx, will be cut in order to neutralize the muscle completely and permanently. By severing the muscle it will be rendered useless and will prevent the pharynx from going into spasm during the act of swallowing and speech. It will also widen the pharynx at the top of my oesophagus, technically making the passage of food easier once the tongue propels food and fluid into it. On paper, it appears straight forward. 

Right? 

The following diagram sets out the procedure in a fairly sterile manner. It was provided to me by my surgeon yesterday.  



Cricopharyngeal Myotomy (image credit OSEO.org)

To access the structures of the neck, they'll create an incision down the left side of my neck, then retract the muscles, veins, arteries and nerves around my pharynx in order to reveal the cricopharyngeal muscle. During the procedure, they'll need to sacrifice an artery and vein that supply my thyroid gland, but these are considered redundant vessels as the thyroid gland is generously supplied by multiple vessels and is quite a vascular gland. The sacrificed vein and artery will be clipped with special titanium clips (so that'll be fancy). Once the cricopharyngeal ring and pharynx are identified, the surgeon will divide (or cut) the ring down to the pharyngeal wall and extend that incision down the pharynx about 5cm. The pharynx itself will then herniate through the incision (see Diagram C) which is the objective - to create a widening of pharynx that will allow food and fluid to pass freely into the oesophagus without the risk of the muscle going into spasm. The surgeon will close up and I'll have a stay in hospital to recover. Aside from a few technical additions to the procedure, that's basically it. 

So, how am I feeling about this?

To be honest, I'm too numb to be frightened at the moment. After multiple procedures and attempts at solving this problem, it's like Groundhog Day to be back here again. I'm exhausted. I have been living day to day (and night) in a state of silent, anticipatory terror. Every time I sit down to a meal, I wonder whether this will be the meal that will cause my throat to seize completely and choke me to death. Every time I hold what little conversation I can hold, I wonder whether the mere act of speech will cause my throat to go into spasm and choke me to death. I said earlier I have come close a number of times. The most frightening occasions have occurred when I have been asleep.


I am frightened at the prospect of this surgery and I know that fear will become more acute as I approach the day - May 4th by the way. There's an old maxim among Nurses that goes "A little bit of knowledge is dangerous." Having entered my 23rd year as a Nurse, the irony of that maxim is not lost on me. I know what's involved. I know the risks. This surgery is delicate. It's a blessing and curse.

I also know under the care of a brilliant surgeon and his team are among the best I have encountered - both as a Nurse and as a patient. I'll be in a facility of which I am familiar. There won't be a lot of strangers there. I trust them implicitly. So, there's a flip side that gives me a little to feel good about.

After two years, I feel like I'm in a no-win situation. I really need to have a win. 

DFA.

Monday, September 18, 2017

The Snore Of Destiny Part Quatre.

The glow weave shirt, the nice pants and boots, the teeth brushed thrice. We're going to the surgeon today...

again...


fuck...



***


It's numbing, sitting here in the waiting room, ruminating over the fact that I'm here again. After 18 months, I'm back to square one. I've feel as though I have not advanced a centimeter. I've merely turned a circle. 

I'm reminded of a bee I saw a few days ago whilst out for a bike ride with my daughter. It was turning a circle on the kerbside. I guess it must have slapped into a passing car and, somehow, survived the impact. There it was, turning this futile circle, probably brain damaged, unable to do anything else. I feel a sense of camaraderie with that bee in this moment. 


Futility. Damage. 


I feel I've reached a point where I feel as though things seem irreparable, and no amount of surgical 'tinkering' will get me back to that state where everything just worked. 


I fear sleep because every time I lay down, I wonder if this is going to be the night when I drown in my own fluids? 


I fear speech because of the crass stares I get when my voice begins to fail & it looks as if I'm going to throw up. I see how they look at me. It's a mix of incredulity and disgust. They take a step or two back, fearful of being in the firing line. 


I look at food with ambivalence because I can't taste it, or smell it. I can't smell a flower, or register the scent of Chanel on my wife's skin. There's no olfactory pleasure - just an occasional 'meaty' nothing taste on my tongue that occasionally hints at something rotting. 


I wonder if that's me? Am I rotting?




It's a curious thought, isn't it.

The waiting room is full. It's a nice space, if a little full. There are lots of people around me. 


I wonder if they're warring with their own minds, the way I am right now?


***

Impairment of the right inferior constrictor and laryngeal muscles related to a neuroma...

Recent increase in dysphagia...

A tendency towards micropenetration/aspiration events...

For modified barium swallow with speech pathology...

***

More study. More intelligence gathering. More planning. 

For what?

DFA.