The operation that didn't happen

If I seem to have been a bit distracted of late, the reason is easily explained: For some months I have been waiting for a minor operation on my prostate.

I was diagnosed with prostate cancer March 2023, and since then I have undertaken a course of chemotherapy and radiotherapy as well as a TURP (Transurethral Resection of the Prostate). Last year I came down with a serious UTI (Urinary Tract Infection) that showed that I was experiencing a very small amount of bleeding in my prostate. This was investigated by a very senior urologist, and after conducting a flexible cystoscopy, he discovered that my urethra had tiny protuberances. (He insisted that I look at the images on the screen, and it looked like a cave with stalagmites and stalactites.)

He suggested that these protuberances should be removed to stop any future bleeding and booked me into the Blackheath Hospital (a local private hospital that undertakes some NHS work) to have a rigid cystoscopy. The appointed day for this procedure to take place was Thursday 15th January, but before this, I had to go to the hospital three times (Thursday 7th January, Friday 8th January, and Monday 12th January) for various tests and an anaesthetic review. These indicated that I was fit enough for the operation to proceed, and at 4.00pm on Thursday 15th January I arrived at the hospital by minicab and was booked in.

I was taken up to my room, and after a short wait a nurse visited me to take my blood pressure and a urine sample. She also gave me a gown to change into as well as compression stockings and bed socks to put on.

After she had left, I was visited by a member of the catering staff who went through the dinner and breakfast menus with me and took my orders for both. The urologist then came to see me, went through in considerable detail what the procedure entailed, and after I had checked the details, I signed the consent form.

I was then left on my own for about twenty minutes, during which I got changed ready for my operation. I was then visited by the anaesthetist (not the one who had conducted my anaesthetic review) who was – somewhat to my surprise – still dressed in her street clothes, including her coat and gloves. She quizzed me for some time about my previous experiences of being anaesthesia ... and then announced that she thought that she had better read my file!

She returned twenty minutes later – still dressed in her street clothes – and asked me another lot of questions. She seemed rather distracted and unhappy with some of my answers, and after about five minutes she excused herself and left.

Another thirty minutes passed ... and then the urologist returned and informed me that the anaesthetist had some reservations about the lack of an onsite ICU (Intensive Care Unit) or HDU (High Dependency Unit) and was not willing to allow the procedure to go ahead. He apologised for this, and made it very clear that he wasn't very happy with the anaesthetist's decision. He then told me that he would try to reschedule the operation but at another larger, local hospital.

Once he had left, I changed back into my clothes, phoned Sue with the news that I my operation was not taking place and that I was coming home, but before I left, my dinner arrived! As I hadn't eaten since breakfast and was very hungry, I ate it with gusto. I then collected my discharge form from the nursing station, handed into the reception desk as I left, and by 7.00pm I had taken a minicab home.

For reasons that I will not go into, I dread having anaesthesia, and ever since the date for this operation was set, I have been feeling increasingly stressed. This got worse as the day approached, and I barely slept during the night before. However, by the time that I had signed the consent form and got changed, I was calm and ready for the procedure to take place ... and then it didn't happen! By the time I got home, I was feeling alternately annoyed and relieved in the full knowledge that I am going to have to go through this all again in the future.