It’s hard to believe this happened was well over a year ago, and it’s been 20 years since my last blog post. I’ve been busy 🤷🏻♂️. As the bishop said to the actress, this is a long one…..
Was it the cheesecake?
Before my latest medical adventure in May 2025 we had visited The Cheesecake Factory for my birthday where I shared 6 different flavored cheesecakes, mostly with myself. On Sunday I went swimming at Aquatic Park in San Francisco before meeting the family in Oakland for Mother’s Day brunch. It was a very normal, family weekend – as far as this family can be described as normal.
I woke up around 5am on Monday morning with excruciating pain in my abdomen and I couldn’t move. Lorraine called 911, the ambulance showed up and they fussed around for a while before putting me on a stretcher and wheeling me out of the house. It was raining so they offered to cover me up and I said sure, why not.
Lorraine took the photo of me looking like a corpse being wheeled out of the house so that we could laugh about it later, but little did we know.
John Muir Medical Center is about 4 miles away but it seemed to take an age to get there. I remember being wheeled in to ER and being sent for a scan. They did one without contrast and that was going to prove to be a big mistake. They could see a blockage in my intestine and announced that I was constipated and left me in an ER room. All I remember after this point is demonstrating, leaving no shred of doubt, that it was most definitely not constipation, and I never saw those pants again, thankfully. That is the last thing I remember so the description for the next few days are based on what the family have told me.
Apparently I was left to languish in an ER room for about 9 hours and the nurses were constantly paging the ER doc but he was nowhere to be found. Obviously dealing with more serious conditions than (not) constipation. My organs failing, and developing an inability to breathe, was probably another sign that this was more than a cheesecake-induced “blockage”.
Eventually, one of the ER nurses paged the critical care team and an army of angels appeared from the ICU to whisk me away. If she hadn’t taken that initiative when she did, I would likely not be here to regale you all.
By this point I was in such a bad way that they needed to get me into an operating room to see what was going on.
The surgeon asked the family if they’d like to say goodbye as they didn’t think that I was going to make it through the night.
When they opened me up they found that about 18 inches of my intestine had died (intestinal ischemia for my medical friends), and was the cause of the sepsis that was killing me. They knew I’d been swimming in the Bay so they ran some cultures and left me “open” overnight while they tried to figure it out. There was no obvious cause so they ended up cutting out the dead part, stitching the ends back together and giving me an ileostomy bag while my insides healed.
They had put me into a medically-induced coma and it looks like they stored me in the closet where they keep all their spare machines.
Every day they turned off the ventilator to see if I could breathe on my own, and for 9 days I couldn’t.
The single most terrifying moment of my life
I’ve done some terrifying things in my life like crashing a motorcycle at 130mph, and even believing Lorraine when she said that she was “fine”, but nothing comes close to this.
I woke up staring at a ceiling, tied to a bed and intubated. I didn’t know I was intubated at the time but I could feel something incredibly uncomfortable in my throat. I had absolutely no idea where I was or what was happening. I heard voices telling me “We’ll take that out in a moment”, which I assumed they meant this godawful thing in my throat, but it seemed like an age before they actually did. They sat me up and, aha, I’m in a hospital.
One of the trauma surgeons that had saved my life came in and asked me if I knew what day it was. Remembering that I came in on a Monday I guessed Tuesday? It was Wednesday, but it was the week after I was admitted.
He started telling me where I was and what had happened and was amazed that I had survived, given the condition I was in. He would come in every morning for the weeks afterwards still shaking his head. He told me about the operation they did, that I had an ileostomy but it was reversible – and I politely nodded as if I knew what he was talking about. He said that if I’d come in just 2 hours later, or had not been in such good shape , there would have been nothing they could have done to save me. That was a sobering moment.
Lorraine and the kids arrived and filled in the blanks, and I learned what an awful experience it was for them while I blissfully slept through it all. I really can’t put that experience into words.
Who’s the current president? Still???? 😒
Apparently, an induced coma inflicts a fair amount of memory loss, but sadly, I remember the answer to that question but could not remember where I worked, what my phone PIN was, whether this was really my family…..Definitely a missed opportunity there.
I was not only getting medically treated but my kids were also using magic spells to try and bring me back. They were playing a selection of my favorite songs by The Jam and the Stereophonics and I’m sorry to say, no, I had no recollection of them.
Ummm, what???
It’s at times like this when you realize that you have raised some wonderful human beings and, for the most part, I was glad that I had not murdered them during their teenage years. They all came to spend time with me, every single day, in 3 shifts. I suspect that the first shift only really came for the amazing chocolate pudding in the hospital cafeteria but they hung out with me while they ate it.
From Ironman to Feebleman
The first few days of being awake are a blur but eventually a physical therapy team joined the growing team that were looking after me and decided I needed to learn to stand up. I didn’t think that would be a huge challenge but I was so wrong. It’s hard to believe that I’d lost that much strength and weight in just 2 weeks. I had dropped from 165lbs to 131lbs. The first goal was to just be able to stand and the second was to reach that chair way off in the distance….
Definitely one of the many humbling experiences that were to come. I did finally make it and it was pretty exhausting just to be able to take those 2 or 3 steps.
After a couple of weeks I was transferred to the progressive care unit (PCU), which is the level below the ICU, and was able to get wheeled out into the sunshine for a couple of minutes a day. I was even allowed to shave, under very close supervision, lest I nick myself and bleed to death due to the blood thinners that were helping with the deep vein thrombosis I had in both arms.
On one visit, Lorraine stopped by the desk to see what the current bill was and we were up to $980,000. I was almost in the million dollar VIP club. A little while later the nurse brought in a lovely wrapped gift box and commented that I must have some wonderful friends – which I do. I opened the box and it was a gift from the hospital. Clearly I had made it to the VIP club.
Home, but not for long
The physical therapy was progressing well and I could take about 10 steps with my Zimmer before I had to rest. Speech therapists had also been added to my team as I’d somehow picked up a Texas accent while in a coma, and that there needed some darn fixin’. Not quite. Speech therapy was to help me learn to swallow again, which I hadn’t been able to for many weeks.
During my radiation treatment in 2016 they said that I would stop swallowing, which I found hard to believe. It’s a natural reflex, like blinking or breathing, so how would I “forget” to do something like that. Well, the excruciating pain from swallowing causes your brain to say “No thanks, let’s not do that”, and then you don’t swallow. Swallowing has been a challenge for a number of years, and almost led to my untimely demise in the Happy Gathering Cantonese restaurant in Cardiff in 2024 due to a vicious BBQ pork spare rib. Thankfully my son Josh was there with his friend Heimlich and it ended well.
Being intubated really did a number on my throat so I was back in the world of not being able to swallow again and if you can’t swallow, you can’t eat and you can’t recover. There was also a very high risk of aspirating and developing pneumonia, to add to my woes. I was initially fed by a very comfortable nasal tube but had that replaced with another percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy, or feeding tube to you and me. Being put directly into your stomach this obviously bypasses the need to swallow and you just pour a nutritious liquid straight in. The surgeon even used the same hole as last time so that was one less scar to add to my new collection of abdominal scars.
When I was wheeled into the operating theater I was greeted like an old friend. They had obviously met me before but I had no recollection of it. The anesthesiologist introduced himself and said that his role was to “give me the Michael Jackson treatment”. It was not immediately clear whether he was talking about fondling my man parts or putting me to sleep and not waking me up. I assumed the sleep but and asked for the return journey please.
Another gift from my cancer treatment was a set of three very rapid convulsions – like very strong hiccups. Always in a set of three, for some reason. These got worse and more frequent while I was in hospital, to the point where I was vomiting several times a day.
After much whining on my part, and against the better wishes of my family (I’m sorry), I was allowed to leave hospital on a gloriously sunny Friday evening. It was wonderful to be home.
It was difficult to sleep but at least I wasn’t woken every 2 hours by the vampires who insisted on taking a vial or two of my blood. Saturday was a day of shuffling around on my Zimmer trying to improve my mobility, but then came Saturday night…….
At some point in the night I woke up leaking blood like a gunshot victim. I initially didn’t want to go back to hospital due to the fear of being intubated again but, thankfully, my family are far more sensible, and very insistent. Back to the ER and, top tip here friends, if you don’t want to sit around waiting in ER, just show up covered in blood. You get to use the VIP lane.
It turns out that one of my convulsions caused the feeding tube to move and that was the source of the leak. The ER doctor decided that it would take too long to numb the area so he just jumped in and started stitching away. I was moved upstairs to a room that night and had another night in hospital to add to my VIP status.
Take it easy, don’t overdo it……
The next couple of weeks are just a blur of appointments, in-home visits from speech therapy, physical therapy and occupational therapy. I was getting a little stronger and before I knew it I could walk thirty steps before having to rest.
My son Josh is a big baseball fan so now that I was highly mobile we decided that a trip to San Francisco to see the Giants would be a great first outing for me. We had seats in the nosebleed section so I was not quite prepared for the 100ft of vertical climbing but we made it.
A hot dog was out of the question so it was just a few sips of beer and a $20 Häagen-Dazs ice-cream. I was still rocking my ileostomy bag at this point so at least I didn’t have to find a bathroom. It was quite wonderous to have instant access to a bathroom wherever you are, and a not-often-discussed benefit of a bag. There really aren’t any other good things to say about it.
It was a day of 10,000 steps according to Garmin, up a few percentage points on my daily average, and I slept very well that night.
A really shit time
By early July I was talking to the surgeon about having the ileostomy reversed and went back into hospital for the op on July 9th. As much as enjoyed not having to manage the bag, it did take me quite some time to learn how to control my new bum. It was like being a toddler again and actually making it to the toilet on time was a big achievement. Sadly Lorraine was not handing out stars or stickers, or telling me that I was a good boy on the few occasions I did make it to the right place at the right time.
We solved this problem with adult diapers, which are far more comfortable than I would have thought, and it’s been hard weaning myself off them. The convenience, literally, is out of this world.
By this time my swallowing was ok enough for me to dispense with my feeding tube and the removal process involves the surgeon just pulling it out, so no hospital visit required.
You need to go to the UK – Doctors Orders…
Now that I was devoid of third-party accessories, the next step in recovery process was gaining weight. I had gained around 10lbs from my svelte 131lb hospital weight but, apparently, I needed a few more pounds so the doctor recommended that I take a 5,000 mile trip to the UK to bulk up.
I was kindly hosted, again, by the wonderful Wyrley-Birch family in Tooting, a place name that still makes Ceri giggle. London is a great walking city so I slowly improved on my 500 steps per day to 20,000, which did not seem to really help with the weight gain so I had to knuckle down to some serious feasting.
Yes, this is a single portion. Those of you who know me know that I have a thing for Sunday roasts and every UK trip is designed to maximize the number of Sundays. Josh, Josh and I went to the Ship in Wandsworth for this delight and I thought the 3 meat option would be a small portion of each, but clearly not!
After a couple of days of sightseeing, it was time to travel again.
*The doc did say “gain weight” but did not specify how or where so I just assumed he meant somewhere with highly calorific food
Optimizing travel routes
Apparently the side effects of being in a coma include memory issues and this may have played into how I planned the next segment of my trip, or it might have been that one of my favorite bands, From the Jam, are usually not touring when I’m in the UK but I lucked out this time, and the geography worked out perfectly……🤥
Day 1 – London to Barnoldswick, 187 miles, 5+ hours by train and taxi
The band was playing so close to London that I just had to make the trek – and it only took four different trains. Barnoldswick is a tiny place and the only Airbnb in town just happened to be above the concert venue and owned by the owners of the venue, the lovely Bartons.
The venue was below the Irish pub and “intimate” would be a fair description. I couldn’t believe that so many well-known bands came here until I looked up Peter Barton, the owner. He played in bands such as The Animals and the Boomtown Rats and has managed a large number of acts so clearly had some connections.
From the Jam were excellent, as always, and it was well worth the trip.
Day 2 – Let’s backtrack to Derby, 109 miles, 6+ hours by train
The UK train system is a wonderful thing, when it’s running. A few cancelations occurred, and some platform changes that required hefting suitcases up and down stairs. I was burning way too many calories and would need another roast.
I finally got there, checked in to the hotel and went to meet the lovely Sharpes – friends who had moved back from Walnut Creek – for a night of live music, drinks and a kebab.
Day 3 – Let’s backtrack our backtrack to Blackpool, 120 miles, 6+ hours by train
Sunday rail service seemed to be even worse and a scheduled 3 hour train journey took over 6 hours. When we were actually moving, the Peak District National Park was beautiful. When I arrived in Lytham I thought that I was having an episode as everyone was dressed in 1940s attire. Apparently it was their annual 1940s festival with music, Spitfires and other cool stuff. I immediately dropped my bags at the hotel and legged it to the local pub to get a Sunday roast before they stopped serving. Priorities!
I met up with my old schoolfriend Jeremy who had driven the 4+ hours from home to meet up for the next From The Jam gig, which was another great one.
No, I’m not sponsored by Fred Perry, but if you have any contacts there, please let me know….
Welsh Wales
On Monday morning Jeremy and I drove to Wrexham, popularized by the TV show and football club ownership by Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney. We had the full breakfast in a bun option and I mistakenly asked for HP Sauce, not remembering where in the country I was. Duly admonished by proprietor and “TV star,” Wayne Jones, I took my sandwich with brown sauce off to a table. Bloody Welsh…..
It was a great drive with great conversation and, before you know it, we had driven almost the length of Wales.
For the next few days it was catching up with friends and family and a quick jaunt to West Wales with my brother and his family. I’d done the length of Wales so time to do the breadth…
After some more family time and a quick trip to Chepstow with Stephen, another friend from school, it was time to head back to London.
After a few more days of gorging it was time to head home, just in the nick of time, as it turned out….
Surprise! Surprise! Not quite the surprise I had planned….
Lorraine’s big Nth birthday was coming up in September and I had arranged a surprise cruise to Mexico for us. As luck would have it, there was a ship leaving San Francisco on the day of her birthday so it would be a short train ride to San Francisco to board and not having to fly anywhere. Unbeknownst to Lorraine, and although it had been quite the logistical exercise, I had also arranged the surprise of family and friends joining us and they would reveal themselves only when everyone was on the ship. Brilliant planning and execution, if I do say so myself.
The cruise left San Francisco on Wednesday so the UK clan were secretly arriving on the Saturday before and hiding until Wednesday. However……
I met some co-workers for coffee on Friday morning and was sitting a little twisted at the table so when I started feeling some twinges in my side I didn’t really think much of it. In the evening I started vomiting again and it was similar to the original incident in May. Off to ER, again, where my recent medical adventures got me through the waiting room pretty quickly. CT scan number 987397 showed some kind of blockage and I was kept in for observation. Optimistically I figured that a day or so of observation and then I’d be able to make the cruise that I’d been planning for 9 months.
Sunday afternoon the surgeon came in and broke the news that they needed to operate, again.
There was scar tissue causing a blockage in the plumbing that needed removing. I was a little confused as the scar tissue was in the upper right of my abdomen whereas the surgery was performed on the lower left. She explained to me that anywhere they touched on my intestines during the life-saving operation could generate scar tissue. Ah.
I really wanted the family to go on the cruise as there was not much they could do sitting around the hospital and, reluctantly, they agreed, although my youngest, Ceri, stayed behind to make sure I behaved myself.
Monday morning it was back to the operating room and the friendly greetings – sans any MJ references this time. I woke up about 6 hours later and the surgeon explained that she had been able to remove the offending scar tissue but there was a significant amount left that she did not want to touch. It was already a 5 hour operation and she did not want to perform more surgery than was needed. This could happen again and we’ll deal with it if and when that happens. Let’s just hope I’m not on a boat off Mexico when that happens, eh?
For the first four days of the 10 day cruise I was getting photo and video updates from the family and I noticed the kids looking progressively more tired and hungover. By day 5 they realized that they were doing exactly the same thing every day – get up late, have breakfast, go to the pool, drink cocktails, have lunch, drink cocktails, afternoon snack, drink cocktails, have dinner with cocktails and then head to karaoke and the disco – so I was instructed to just watch one of the prior videos.
I was having a similarly joyous time, in my own way, and the dress code was much more relaxed than being on a cruise, but the buffet left a lot to be desired….
The Epilogue – finally, I hear you say…..
Congrats on making it this far.
So, 2025 was an interesting year. I has the most amazing medical care that saved my life and was truly awed by the support I got from my immediate family and friends. My children coming and spending time with me every single day, and of course Lorraine, who had to put up with another extended bout of medical treatment. It has been noted that should anything else of this nature happen again, it’ll be a pillow over my face – which led to some great discussions with friends about the type of pillow to use. Obviously a memory foam one would be a bit of a giveaway and, apparently, they check for fibers so the regular down pillows wouldn’t be a good idea either. Apparently, buckwheat hulls do not shed fibers so that seems to be the top choice.
There have been a few trips back to the ER for various things but, overall, life is good! I fell off the training wagon, big time, but managed a super sprint triathlon in June 2026 and came 3rd in my age group from a very, very deep field of 4. I think the other guy had left by the time they were handing out medals. My goal is to return to triathlons but getting back to the Ironman level from here is a steep, steep climb. Speaking of steep climbs, Ironman Wales 2027 perhaps?
Random musings of nobody important 
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