An operation on what – nobody told me. But that it would be a couple of weeks. Now I really had the feeling something was wrong. But back to work I went and life carried on as normally as it could.
Then less than a week later I sat at work in the open plan office and my phone rang, the receptionist told me that there was a doctor on the phone. She put him through.
Doctor “ Hello, Mr Spencer”
Me “ Speaking”
Doctor “A bed is available for you on Thursday this week”
Me “Oh right, what is that for then?”
Doctor “ To have your testicle removed”
Doctor “We will send you a letter through the post OK goodbye”
What a way to do it. I can remember saying why me, getting up from my desk and going into the toilets to cry. I could not believe what I had been told over the phone. That must have been the worst thing I have ever heard and they just had no idea what he had done.
Once at home I told everyone what was happening and prepared for the hospital trip. I now knew that there was something very serious going on, but had no idea what it could be.
The day of my trip to the hospital arrived and I did not want to go. My ward was on the top floor of The Queen’s Medical Centre. The section of the ward I was in had five other men on it, all twice my age, I was so alone. The staff nurse came and started the usual name, address, date of birth etc. And showed me around the ward, I did not want to be there at all.
During the course of the afternoon I saw several different doctors who came to examine me. And when I say examine, I mean examine. They were putting their fingers in every orifice available, asking questions and telling me why I was there and what they would be doing. But unfortunately for me this information changed when I spoke to each different person.
- The testicle would be removed.
- The testicle would be removed, examined and put back.
- The testicle would be removed, the lump cut out and the testicle put back.
This was all the information that I got. So I was left to listen to men telling me I would be all right and not to worry about it. Lying in a hospital bed, twenty-six years old and being told your having your testicle removed isn’t the best way to relax and not think about it.
On the Friday morning I was prepared for surgery I was scared to death. I went down very early in the morning and put in the queue. Now, I could not see the funny side of this but there were three other people in front of me and they could not stop laughing and joking, I just wanted to get up a run away. The theatres are close to the main entrance of the hospital, so while I was waiting I could look out a window into the real world. That is I wanted to be, life carrying on as normal. But for me life was about to take a turn for the worst………
(Over the next few months a random blog will appear, telling the experience of that day, week or month. There will also be some video clips popping up along the way, certificate 18 in places, just because of the swearing. This is more about me signing off 25 years since I was forced to take a very different footpath to the one I had imagined, If you find them interesting or funny along the way then that’s great.)
It’s been a roller coaster of a journey, with ups, downs, twists and turns…….It’s been 25 years!