Does this sound weird?

A different view.
(Pinhole photo of New York - 2007)

I have a feeling this may sound a little cranky, I hope not, but I am aware that it might.

Readers of this blog may have noticed that I have mentioned Hypnotherapy a few times, and I have said how I found it very useful in dealing with anxiety, stress and fear.

I thought I might try and make a difference in other people's lives rather than just describing my own journey.

OK - so here's the odd bit:

I have enrolled on a course to become a qualified Hypnotherapist. The course will start in September.

Can you see me in that role? Time will tell.

I've also done another thing which is to set up a "Just Giving" page which you can access by clicking at the link above and to the right. Any money given will go straight into the coffers of Chron's And Colitis UK. A charity to help people with Chron's and Colitis.

It would be great if you could have a look.

Right - I won't mention it again

I remain

The unexpected trips me up.

I'm sitting here all stressed up in anticipation of tomorrow, when the phone rings.

It's the hospital with an unexpected ball to bowl down my alley. They want me to go in this afternoon and have a blood transfusion as my hemoglobin is low.

But this afternoon is too early for me I'm afraid. I just can't quite take that. I have got my brain all set for tomorrow. And I'm going to see the Hypnotherapist this afternoon, and I need her help. So we agree on 6.30.

It's going to be a long and lonely night, and I will think of you, and you, and you, all my precious people.

Until I see you again, remember:

Love is Life

High Anxiety

I have to admit to some moments of very high anxiety in anticipation of Tuesday, I suppose you would a fool or psychopathic if you did not. What can you do to minimise the pre-op nerves?

Of course it is not something that has physical form so the stone age body that we have is at a loss for a response to the surges of adrenaline. So going to the gym for a good pedal on the exercise bike and swim and hot sauna does help. It gives your body something to hit out at.

The hypnotherapy helps too, although you have to remember to use it when you are in the grip of anxiety. Deep breathing and remembering the image, and using the anchor.

I also have remind myself that there are 150 people a year going through this at this particular hospital a year, that it only takes an hour under the knife, and that I am on an "enhanced recovery scheme".

And I have to remind myself that one day in a few weeks time I will wake up and I will have got used to the new me and everything will be OK. That in a few months time I will sit at the edge of my garden pool with a glass of wine and some friends.

OK that is that for now.

(Written on my Mum's computer in Gloucestershire, and without any image capturing device to allow the inclusion of a pic. Maybe later when I get home.)

The Heeby-Jeebies

I awoke with Heeby-Jeebies, and went for a gym-and-a-swim session to work it off. It is strange seeing the mark on my tummy indicating the site of my stoma to be. I got on the exercise bike and peddled fast.

Then I sat in the steam room and tried to use my head.

I have a comforting image that the Hypnotherapist has activated in my mind. I am a child, and it is early morning; about 5.30 am or something. It is a summer morning but the air is cold and stings my nose. I am with my Dad, and we are going to milk the cows. I am sitting on the mudguard of the tractor (never be allowed now) and we are chugging through the fields. The grass is fresh and green and Mary, a sleek black Labrador, runs along side the tractor. A pigeon flies over head and Dad makes his fingers into a pistol and pretends to be a cowboy shooting it out of the sky.

The image changes and he is standing next to me, he's wearing the green coat that I now have. He is my guide and will keep me safe in the dark. He tells me why it will be better after the operation:

"Well, at least you won't be goose-stepping to the loo every couple of hours, and you'll never get the big C up your B; you'll be able to eat any damned thing you want, and best of all you'll never have to have a camera up your backside again. So hold my hand - I'll come with you."

I hold his leathered and weathered hand which is rough with wear.

And it helps the Heeby-Jeebies subside.

Pre-admission assessment

To be honest I found this a rather unpleasant experience. It wasn't because of the people, they were all doing their jobs, it was because it makes you focus very clearly on what is going to happen and it really brings home the fact that it is going to happen.

The first person we met was a Stoma nurse, who talked us through the mechanical details of a stoma, the procedure and other such details. This made feel faintly sick and actually consisted of information that to be honest I mostly already knew. I could see that is important to have this conversation from a systemic point of view.

There was one slightly strange bt of dialogue when John said

"We are very good at causing pain, and we're very good at taking it away again . . ." which I have to say I found a little unsettleing; reminding me of a scene from the "Marathon Man" - the torture scene between Dustin Hoffman and Laurance Olivier:

Olivier to Hoffman:
(Having just drilled into Hoffman's tooth)

"Simple oil of cloves and how amazing the results. Life can be that simple; relief - discomfort. Now, which of these I next apply, that decision is in your hands, so ... take your time and tell me. . . . is it safe?"

There was also considerable discussion of, and viewing of bags. This made me feel even more odd, although I had seen some before. We discussed how to maintain, empty, replace, pay for these "fashion" items.

"Now I have to site you" he said

"Pardon?"

"We have to decide the site of your stoma"

I had to pull up my shirt and the position of my waistband, was noted. We had a brief conversation about lifestyle which included things such as my daily swimming, and he drew a black blob on my tummy to the right and below my navel. That done we were off upstairs to another department.

Upstairs I was welcomed and we were shown into another small office where a very professional, intelligent and human nurse went through more details.

I have been put on a fast recovery plan, and I was given some drinks with lots of "good things" in them to drink before the operation. She took my pulse and my blood pressure as well.

Then she brought up the question of MRSA - had I had it at all? and other such questions. Then she said I was going to screened for MRSA and that this would involve a swab up the nose (fair enough) and a swab of the perineum (How do they manage to come up with such elegant forms of humiliation?) I started to feel really nervous about that.

Then another nurse came in to do the MRSA swabbing- the swabber. I was OK with the nose which tickled but all the time I was thinking "Yeah . . . ? And . . .what about the next bit . . . " Luckily I was allowed to retreat behind a (hideous) curtain and do this myself.

Next it was a doctor who came into the room and interviewed me. The stuff you would expect really. Medical history, relevant medical history of relatives, smoking, drinking, allergies, etc. Then there was an examination on the little bed.

On spotting the dark circle made by John she asked

"How long have you had this mole?"

"What mole?" I looked down my body - "Oh! Hah! you got me there- anyway it will be bigger next Wednesday. Ha Ha!"

"Why?"

This time I wasn't sure she was joking, and I reflected that she seemed very young and that many of her questions had seemed a little odd. Not only that I had seen her with an older doctor earlier and he appeared to be briefing her.

It is a teaching hospital, and I of all people believe in learning and teaching, but I have to say I felt a shiver of . . . well actually it was fear.

FEAR for my tiny little fragile self. How pathetic! "Pull yourself together man!"

And here is the thing; I might look like i am 53, 6 foot, hairy, and all that other grown up stuff; but inside we are all vulnerable and emotional children. That includes the doctors.

After that it was just a matter of blood tests and an ECG. A piece of piss you might say - oh no I did that earlier.

I am fit for surgery!

I can't wait. . . .

The Hypnotherapist

This morning I went to see my hypnotherapist. Does that sound a bit new age and odd? As they say - don't knock it till you've tried it.

 I first saw her sometime ago as I was trying to deal with the prospect of a colonoscopy (that seems mere bagatelle now) and I can tell you that for me it was very powerful.

A beautiful and peaceful antidote to what I saw as the clinical brutality of the modern medical machine.

Hypnosis in reality is not like it is in films. They don't wave a watch on a chain in front of you, and the world doesn't go all wavy to the sound of a Theramin.



Instead I found myself a very comfortable chair in a warm room, speaking to a quietly spoken and understated woman. She uses the technique of progressive relaxation. You close your eyes and she asks you to relax; your neck, your shoulders, and so on all the way down your body. Then she asks you to go more deeply still.

Here is the interesting bit, you know what's going on, but you are very much in a small perfect world of your own. Everything is clear and possible. She gave me "anchors" and these got me through the colonoscopy really well. I was able to get through the experience without even sedation.

Even now, 3 or 4 years later, if I drive past the hospital I feel some of the anchors come into play. A medicine to equal Medicine.

Hypnotherapy gives me a way of using my own mind and strengths as a repost to the procedural coldness of the medical experience.



So, I have seen her quite a few times on my journey to this point, and it has been a most gentle and effective way to deal with very brutal and intrusive experiences.

 Today I went to see her for the second time on my approach for the much feared, and anxiety inducing colectomy. I arrived in the grip of the heeby jeebies with the prospect of being disembowelled boiling angrily in my psyche.



I sat in the familiar chair and felt the warmth of the hissing fire on my face. As always, we had a bit of a conversation first - a conversation which as usual brings me into close connection with her, and which is in itself calming, non threatening, and positive.



Then I closed my eyes and I relaxed and went into the strong and enabling world that she brings out of me. And although I still feel anxiety, and although I understand I have new and difficult borders cross, I drove away feeling that I had a way of coping that belonged to me, More able psychologically to deal with the impending challenge.



So if you too are about to experience something really challenging and difficult I suggest that you consider finding a really good hypnotherapist.

For me it has been good.

I hope we all live to be 100.



Peace

Nicky Nacky Nocky Noo

For A laugh and joke on the topic please follow this link to a documentary song of jollity and fun that enumerates all the things that have gone wrong with me this year.

"Nicky Nacky Nocky Noo"