For Christmas this year I’m going to ask Santa Claus for a bread board, some Old Bay seasoning and a shirt.
But what I really want is an operation that a surgeon has said he won’t do because it’s too risky.
It isn’t Turkey teeth and it definitely isn’t a hair transplant, although my hair is much thinner than I’d like.
It also isn’t the operation that was presented to me a few months ago as being even riskier than the one that has been up for consideration.
I say ‘joys’ because until the surgeon said the surgery was too risky I’ve managed to keep fairly upbeat about my incurable bowel cancer, since being diagnosed in the summer of 2023.
I let the specialists worry about what’s happening to my cells while I focus on how I look on the outside and, crucially, how I’m feeling inside and out.
But for me the hernia was something that has always been a sign of me being defective, or at least having a defect.
It’s the reason why I can’t do the running I used to enjoy.
And it’s a reason why I haven’t tried to date since being diagnosed with incurable bowel cancer last year.
It has also been something that I had hoped could be removed to give me some of my life back.
If my hernia was removed then I’d be able to run again and lose the weight I’ve gained from steroids. I’d also be able to go on holiday, because most of my breaks before the pandemic were to do half marathons in Eastern Europe.
I’ve got myself to the stage in life where I think I’d make a good partner but won’t be able to do this if my hernia has to stay.
Friends have tried to reassure me that if someone loves me then they’ll do that with or without a hernia. But I question why someone would love someone with a massive hernia.
It’s as big as a child’s head and reminds me of the scene from the 1979 movie Alien at the moment just betore the alien bursts out of Kane’s body so I’d say removing it is worth all the risks.
But, as all I’d be doing during an operation would be lying still for seven hours under general anaesthetic, it ultimately isn’t my decision to make.
Supposedly the risks include the possibility that they could cut me open and find it just isn’t possible to push all my lower intestine back into the space it has come from.
There’s also risks with infections, issues with stitches, the chance a hernia might happen again, and the risk of being under anesthetic for such a long time.
Before an operation I’d have to not have any chemotherapy for at least three months and so there is the risk that my cancer could spread all around my body during that time.
For me that’s a risk worth taking to get a bit of life back, and it means I’d be able to do a lot more work than I can at the moment and wouldn’t have to battle for chemo appointments at my hospital every fortnight.
I know there’s a risk the cancer will spread but this is going to happen at some point when the drugs stop working anyway.
Unless I get stabbed while on my way home, it’s probably the thing that will kill me but I’d like to leave behind a hernia-free corpse no matter when that happens.
Next year a second surgeon is going to give me their opinion on whether he wants to take a risk with the Fisk and cut me open. Fingers crossed for some kind of successful outcome so I can live a life again.
