Ears of a stranger

So you know the back story. Me, a hospital bed, an ileostomy, wife pregnant with child.

Laying there in the hospital bed, on a drip and pain killers a button push away, your mind wanders. You feel elston for being alive, fear for the future, worry for your family and most of all regret for things you have not done. That more than any other is the kicker, 'Regret'.

I asked to see the chaplain, not because I was at death's door, or that I was very religious, but I wanted someone to talk to who was not family. Someone I could confide in without having to have a relationship with, if that makes sense; it does to me.

She listened and she listened, I had many a tearful conversation with her but most of all I have memories of that point which I can only describe as "Peace".
Not fond, because it was not a happy time. Not pleasant, because as much as it helped me to talk, it was not a pleasant time.

I do remember out though as a time that brought me peace by being able to talk, cry and hug at that point in time author having it follow me as it would have done if I had spoken with family.

So just for those 3 days which helped give me hope, get pain, anger and frustration off my chest and helped me cope with not being there for my son's 3rd birthday - I dedicate this to the chaplain of Whipps Cross hospital,thank you.

Life Changing

Do you know what a Ileostomy is? No? Neither did I until 5 years ago, when I woke up with one after surgery.
I woke up to find in my drug induced stupor that I did not have to get up from the hospital bed as I did not need to go to the toliet to relieve myself, it was all being done for me.
Well the catheter I think most people will be aware of and is no biggie but I also had a hole in my side and a bag covering it, into which was flowing stuff that would have usually been formed and ejected from my body in a regular toilet visit.
It is amazing how casual you can be about these things when you drugged up to manage the pain.

Very close call was how the consultant put it to my Dad and wife, who was 8 months pregnant with our second. Followed it up with statement that a piece of the intestine had been sent off to test for Cancer.  Was all down to something called Diverticular Disease

Amazing how such things change your outlook in life, especially a close call with death and knowing you would have left your family bereft and children with only pictures to remind them of their father.

A bigger experience than I can fit into my first post on it.  Actually the first time I have mentioned it publically via a blog.  It was quite the experience going through it....