24 hours is a long time

If 24 hours is a long time in politics, then it is a long time in medicine as well. In the last 24 hours the fabric of Mae's world has shifted again, though not in a bad direction - more in a terrifying but possibly good direction. She has been scheduled to have her surgery on Friday, before any chemotherapy rather than after it (which was the plan only a day ago).  Professor David Morris of St George Hospital's Peritonectomy Unit is to operate on her.  The procedure involves chemotherapy as part of the surgery. Why surgery is possible straight away now, when previously it only seemed available later is one of those mysteries that has not been explained.  But the general consensus is that this is a good thing and hopefully will give Mae the best fighting chance.

So today, Mae and Nick have been preparing themselves mentally and organisationally for a few weeks in Sydney. Of course, this kind of surgery is a huge and daunting prospect. They will drive to Sydney tomorrow morning. Tonight is their last night for a while with their furkids. Sleep well, my darlings.



David and I drove to Sydney yesterday. Actually, this is Linda driving us on the Harbour Bridge today, back to Surry Hills from the Royal North Shore Private Hospital.

David had surgery on his right hand today. I am getting to know all the hospitals in Sydney, Canberra and the Mid North Coast.



The surgery for David was a relatively simple carpal tunnel release procedure, aimed at alleviating the neuropathic pain he experiences in his right hand. The surgeon informed us that the procedure went very well, and revealed an unusual anatomical quirk in David's carpal tunnel area - he has a largish blood vessel overlaying the nerve.  In most people, this blood vessel is regressed and tiny, but in a few people, it is large and causes constriction in the carpal tunnel.  The surgeon thinks this may be the source of the problem.  But it is a bit too early to break out the champagne yet, because so far David has not experienced any improvement in his symptoms.  Mind you, it is only half a day since the surgery. He is home again, a bit groggy after the general anaesthetic but walking and talking.

Somebody said to me today - you guys have been through the wringer. Well actually what it feels like is that we are still going through the wringer. But it's toughest of all on this lovely young woman. 


Tomorrow is another day.