中COVID-19 cases in the UK started to surge in mid-March. Day after day hospitals admitted more patients with severe COVID symptoms and were reaching full capacity. To prevent the whole system from collapsing, the NHS announced on 17 March that from 15 April onwards, all “non urgent” operations would be postponed by three months.
How should I read into this? The postponement would take effect from mid-April, but my operation had no confirmed date yet; would the rule apply to me? And what was the definition of “non urgent”? My condition was clearly not life-threatening, but was it “non urgent”? Didn’t my surgeon say the operation was fast tracked?
If my operation would be delayed, should I wait, or should I seek alternatives to remove the ninja as soon as possible? There was so much to ponder on:
- Would the ninja grow significantly in the next few months, tipping the operation from Plan A to Plan B?
- While waiting, would the ninja turn malignant or metastasise? Did the CT scan uncover new problems?
- My symptoms were still very mild. Perhaps it wasn’t a big deal to wait a bit?
- Should I go private? NHS and private hospitals in the UK are served by more or less the same doctors, the only difference is medical cost —— we’re talking about tens of thousands of pounds......
That evening when the NHS decision was announced, I remember I was going to make my favourite Georgian dumpling (khinkali), but the new uncertainty almost derailed my cooking project. But then I knew simply by worrying to death I wouldn’t be able to change the course of events, life had to go on anyway, so I rolled up my sleeves and pressed on with the dumplings. Getting busy in the kitchen was a healthy distraction anyway, both emotionally and physically. For the latter, ever since my initial diagnosis, I have strived to eat healthily. A silly thought popped up one day though, “Umm...... with all the nutrients, am I encouraging the ninja to grow? If I downsized, would the ninja too?” What a Medieval approach to starving a tumour, ha! If that works, who needs surgery?
I tossed and turned in bed that night. Knowing the hospital would be overwhelmed by phone calls from anxious patients the next day, I didn’t want to squeeze into the enquiry queue. Yet, in the end I still had to call the ENT outpatients department, not only for my own sake but also my colleagues', for they also needed to get prepared for the day when I would sign off work for them to take over. The ENT receptionist was friendly and to-the-point. She knew I should speak to the ENT admissions coordinator, and quickly shared with me the direct line’s number.
The coordinator holds information on the booked-in dates of operations, which patient comes first, and who the patients’ surgeons are. I finally managed to reach her after multiple tries. She must have been running around all day to fit patients into the revised schedule, answering numerous calls with the same question, “is my operation cancelled or postponed?” I was prepared to cut the long story short. To my surprise, the coordinator spoke warmly right from the start. She said I shouldn’t feel bad about calling because operations make some patients anxious in the first place and any postponement, even if hypothetical, makes it even harder to bear. She brought up my details on her screen, “ah, the doctor has just added you to the waiting list today. Most operations on the waiting list are not for postponement. However, none of the operations on the list has been booked in yet due to COVID-19.”
That was partly reassuring, but without a booked-in date, it’s far from clear whether I could/should delay the operation. The coordinator then suggested, “shall I arrange a phone call from the doctor so you can discuss in detail?” “Yes, please!” That’s brilliant, indeed. I had always wanted to hear about the CT scan results from my surgeon, but didn’t manage to reach him via his secretary, who was probably snowed under by patients’ enquiries too, or in the worst case, my surgeon had caught COVID-19 and couldn’t take calls......
My surgeon’s call was scheduled in a few days’ time. While waiting, I had a weird dream one night! The dream began with me seeing lots of people bustling around fairly haphazardly in the operating theatre. The next scene quickly switched to me waking up from the operation. In the dream, I felt no pain but some stiffness on my left jaw and neck. Next, I asked the surgeon which plan he had gone for, he said “B”! But this is clearly illogical, like most dreams are; if it had been Plan B, there would be a long vertical wound down my chin, how could I have spoken with such ease?
It’s obvious why I constructed such a dream. It was easy to fend off scary thoughts during the day when I was occupied by work and hobbies, but the subconscious fear of the operation and pain took over in my sleep.
Guess what, the scenes from the weird dream turned out to be not so unreal after all! Some were strikingly similar to what happened before and after my operation. How cool would it be if I could foresee the future for other matters too?
Fast tracked or postponed? To wait or not to wait? Those were the questions which I fortunately had answers for, supplemented by analyses, from my lovely surgeon first-hand. I wondered whether other patients with less “old-fashioned” surgeons only found out via the standard formal letters from the hospital?