Gentlemen, We Can Rebuild Him (Hepatitis C (Hep C) Blog)

For those of you who are here for the first time and for those of you who ‘tune in’ regularly to my blog; you will probably know by now that I am currently on the transplant list waiting for a new liver.


Unfortunately for me, by the time I was diagnosed with HCV, and then had a liver biopsy to determine the effects of the damage caused to my liver by the virus, it was already too late. My liver had advanced cirrhosis and therefore the standard treatment to clear the virus was not an option open for me.

Cirrhosis means scarring of the liver tissues and for me it is scarred so badly that the functioning parts of the liver are no longer sufficient to sustain me. In short, my liver is failing. What’s more, the Hep C virus is continuing its attack of what’s left of the organ.

The good part about that, if there is one, is that I have not had to go through ‘combination treatment’ of Ribavarin and Interferon over a long period of time to eradicate the HCV. Certainly from what I have learned is that that treatment is a bloody awful experience that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy! It would appear to me to be a long hard slog (usually 48 weeks) with many side effects and makes me shudder to think about. However there is a possibility that one day you may come out on top and virus-free.

The down side for me is that I will never be able to live a life without taking drugs everyday and there is a strong possibility that I will have to live with Hep C, even after the op, for the rest of my life. Not good!

That doesn’t mean though, that I am living a life without hope, far from it in fact. Though I'm not looking forward to the surgery, I am looking forward to feeling better after it.

On good days, when I don't feel so bad I think; have they got the right bloke or, do I really need to go to these lengths to make me feel better. Have they made a mistake with their diagnosis and suggested treatment. Or even just; am I really that bad that combination therapy would not work?

But then on other days I feel so bad that I could ring up St. Jimmy’s and beg them to get this thing out of me and change it for one that works, and the sooner the better.

Or like the other day when I was editing some photos that I took over this Christmas period. Most of the photos were taken by me, but on the odd occasion Mandy had caught me in the background when I wasn’t paying attention and keeping out of frame. Suddenly there I was, old yellow head, my gaunt, wizened complexion against a plain magnolia wall or worse still, next to my kids! They looked so young and healthy, their eyes like beautiful blue pools set in white marble, Greek god like, and, stood next to them a ghoulish old creature about to pounce and devour their innocent soles. Thank God they don’t see me as that, to them, fortunately for me; they just see lovely cuddly Daddy who has a sore tummy and sleeps a lot!

I try not to dwell too much on the transplant operation, Nine hours of surgery or so seems far too daunting to contemplate followed by intensive care and hospitalised recovery. I prefer to concentrate instead on coming out on the other side of all that.

Do you remember Steve Austen, the Bionic Man? A man barely alive! He was my favourite 70’s all-action hero, half man, half Betamax video recorder spares, serialised weekly. For those who don’t know, the story line was; he was US astronaut turned test pilot who crashes during a test flight and then is rebuilt so that he can go on and fight for the US government and Mama’s home-made apple pie!

I kid you not, it was that ‘cheesy’ and if you don’t believe me, click on this link and watch the opening title sequence!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HofoK_QQxGc

See, it really was that bad! My Dad used to describe it as ’shit from China’ he always did have a way with words. But as a boy of 10 or 12 at the time, I loved it and tuned in without fail.

The problem is that now, when I think of my ‘road to recovery’, I keep seeing myself in surgery in much the same way as the title sequence and then, there I am, on that bloody treadmill whilst the music starts to elevate in the background and next I’m running at 70mph! I can hear old ‘Oscar Goldman’ doing the voice over, “Ian Quill, A man barely alive” not that there was ever much going on much between the ears; “Gentlemen, we can rebuild him, we have the technology” by now I’m ‘pumping’ those bloody big dumbbells, “Ian Quill will be that Man, better than he was before,” no more wizened old yellow faced crone, “better, stronger, faster” and by now I look like a cross between The Terminator and a bronzed Adonis! And splat, someone slaps a price tag of £6.00 on me and at that I still look overpriced.

Okay, okay, so I’ve overdone it on the Sunny Delight and chocolate and I probably won’t be able to sleep so well tonight. But just thinking about what it will be like to feel normal again seems damn good to me. At this moment in time I’ve got to say that I just feel plain old sick and tired of feeling plain old sick and tired, all of the time. So if the Six Million Dollar Man is going to help me get me straightened out, that’s fine by me

And maybe when I have a correctly functioning liver that’s supplying my brain with the necessary chemicals it needs instead of toxins, maybe I’ll stop imagining that I’m an all American 70’s Action Hero, but until then, you’ll have to put up with me the way I am!

Keep well everybody.... Ian