Chapter 26: Deciding Without Doubt
Once surgery was on the table, everything changed.
Not in a dramatic, emotional way — but in a quiet, irreversible one. The conversations stopped being about what if and started being about when.
The plan was a subtotal colectomy with an ileostomy. Most of my colon would be removed, and my small intestine would be brought out through my abdomen to form a stoma.
It was explained clearly. Risks, benefits, long-term implications.
I listened. I nodded. I asked sensible questions.
Inside, though, the decision had already been made.
I was done fighting my own body.
Chapter 27: Going In
The admission came sooner than expected.
I packed a bag — not really knowing what you pack for something like this — and went into hospital. Familiar smells. Familiar corridors. Familiar routines.
Bloods were taken. Observations done. Names checked and double-checked.
I was in.
There’s a strange stillness that comes with hospital admission. Time slows. You wait for meals. You wait for doctors. You wait for news.
All the while, your life outside carries on without you.
Chapter 28: Home for Christmas
Then something unexpected happened.
I was sent home.
Not because surgery was cancelled — but because of timing. Christmas was approaching, and rather than keep me in hospital waiting, the decision was made to let me go home for the holidays.
It felt surreal.
One minute I was mentally preparing for surgery. The next, I was walking back into my house, knowing I’d be back soon — but not knowing exactly when.
Christmas that year was different.
I was present, but not fully there. Every laugh, every meal, every moment carried a quiet countdown in the background.
This might be my last Christmas with the body I’d always known.
Chapter 29: The Call Back
After Christmas, the call came.
I was to return for Covid testing and pre-assessment before surgery.
Back to hospital again — but this time with finality attached.
The Covid test was uncomfortable but brief. The pre-assessment was thorough. Blood tests. Heart checks. Consent forms.
A stoma nurse came to see me.
She talked me through life with a stoma — care, bags, routines. Then she took a pen and marked my abdomen where the stoma would sit.
That dot felt heavier than anything else so far.
This was no longer abstract.
Chapter 30: The Night Before
The night before surgery was the hardest part.
I lay in the hospital bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the beeps and footsteps in the corridor.
Sleep didn’t come easily.
I thought about my family. My partner. My children. I thought about the years of illness, the drugs, the hospital rooms.
I wasn’t scared of the operation itself.
I was scared of what came after.
Who would I be on the other side of this?
Chapter 31: Letting Go
In the morning, everything moved quickly.
Gown on. Bracelet checked. Final questions asked.
I was wheeled down corridors I’d walked so many times before — but never like this.
In the anaesthetic room, a mask was placed over my face. A calm voice told me to breathe.
I closed my eyes.
And handed myself over completely.
