Blog from Uranus

Another two and a half weeks later; How can I possibly say I have been too busy to write this blog. I sit around, usually outside in the shade, but in glorious sunshine, in the most beautiful garden. I have been waited on hand and foot by my resident Cabin Boy. I do tell a lie. I am becoming more active. I move around, sometimes with knickers on! In fact, as I write this, I have been wearing them for about 5 days (not the same pair) You out there will not realise how exciting this is! Oh, how you 'out there' take things for granted! Every time I go to the toilet, I sigh with relief that it didn't hurt. I get excited at small accomplishments. Haven't I been through this before some time? This nasty gubbins I have been through has severely affected the 'stroked' bits of me. In fact I have a lot of pain in a lot of places - at least not my bottom. The pain has now found other places to attack. I have started physio with the Stroke Team, who are amazing. I als...

Well, two and a half weeks later......... THE GOOD I have worn knickers! Only a couple of times.....they still hurt, and I have had to resort to cutting some of them in shreds, but yes, I am sometimes decent. On the other hand, thank goodness for glorious weather and long flowing dresses! It makes going commando easier to manage. I get up, and normally stay up all day! I can even stay up until the 10.00pm news is over. I occasionally resort to a nap in the day, but not often. I have done some Pilates! Sounds impressive, I lie on the floor and my lovely Trainer stretches my legs. At least I could get up and down off the floor. I have been out! I went across the island - all of 20 mins drive, for a massage. I think it is the first time she has seen a client with shredded knickers, but she is broadminded. The massage was wonderful, and eased a lot of muscle spasm. I have been invited to join a trip to Ireland in September. I've never really been to Ireland other than a day...

Well I can’t believe it’s two weeks since I last wrote this blog, although in another way it seems a long time ago. The last 10 days of treatment were literally a right pain. I do seek attention, and do like to be‘special’, so it came as no surprise when a doctor I didn’t know was called in, on inspecting my bits, exclaimed “Oh my God” Are they meant to say that? She was clearly seeing something not very pretty. She muttered something about a very severe reaction and scuttled out of the room quite quickly, saying I would be seeing my own doctor the next day. Following that, I saw my own lovely Oncologist. She had a similar look on her face when examining me, stating that it was “not nice”. I think I told her that it did not feel nice. I think I would have been better suited to lying on a Butcher’s Block. My final Consultation was with the Specialist colo/rectal Nurse/Radiographer. He is quite a character, and has quite a wicked sense of humour, and yes, we have something in common....

RING OF FIRE And so it goes on. Minibus each day, collecting a group of people from the Isle of Wight ferry on our way to the hospital.We make a motley group. I’m dying to ask where their’s is, but hold back. I am a naturally nosy person! As we arrive, a couple of people hang back to light up their cigarettes! Can you believe it? One is a lady who is really struggling with throat cancer, now I see why she chose to have a peg feed rather than a gastro nasal tube. WTF! Wish I was big boss...... Nobody else would qualify for the Ministry of Funny Walks, only me. I already had achieved a high standard, but as I burn, I am reaching higher levels! We have had lots of visitors, which brighten up our days. Ex Kenya friends and Jersey friends who are in this area call in. My dear, lovely ex-college friend, who happens to live in my mum’s little Welsh village came down with hubby in their Campervan, and stayed on a nearby campsite in Netley. The four of us were great pals 50 years ago at ...

If it’s not one, it’s another. My time is spent either on the toilet or sitting in a waiting room. Fortunately we have 3 toilets in the apartment, on one I frequently immerse my bottom into salty water, on another I have  to hobble quickly (difficult) and frequently. I dislike public toilets immensely, but unfortunately have to spend much time on the Hospital ones. After arriving at the hospital, I check in, and a little (sometimes a long time) later, I am told to start drinking. I then have to empty my bladder, and down 2 litres of water in 10 minutes I then sit and wait for an hour, in which time I cannot go to the toilet. By the time I am called in for the treatment, I have to try and walk with my knees together. This is a difficult manoeuvre when one leg doesn’t work! When the radiotherapy session is finished, I get dressed and bolt in a hobbly sort of way to the toilet. I am often beaten to it by a desperate looking man dressed only in his hospital gown, shoes and socks (??) a...

Fizzy Bottom, 32 Nausea Terrace, Vomit Street, Trumpington. The week starting with us in Sauna Conditions for the hottest early May Bank Holiday on Record. Our French Window was still broken, despite constant phone calls. “We are waiting for parts” Have we ever heard that before? I am a sun lover, but not at the moment. I yearn for the arctic conditions of the North coast of Jersey. I never thought I would say that. The rest of the week is spent well and truly ‘in the club’. Hours and hours are spent waiting in the hospital. I chat to everyone who seems approachable. Serious Bloke, who doesn’t believe in wasting unnecessary words, sits immersed in his Sudoku. He is addicted to it. He could be anywhere. I gawp around. A number of people with naso - gastric tubes, conspicuously more than we noticed 6 years ago. Young women with bald heads. A dodgy little prisoner with handcuffs and chains tied to two burly prison officers. He smiles at me, I look away,  trying not to noti...

‘Let the good times begin’ Condor Ferries obviously knew all about me. They knew that I was in for a load of fun. I couldn’t wait. For the first time ever, I managed to sleep on the overnight ferry. How come? Has my mind totally detached itself from the next 12 weeks of my life? I feel strangely calm. We arrived at the sophisticated Premier Inn, where they kindly gave us a room at 8.30am. We were impressed with the beautiful view of a brick wall. The tatty place served its purpose, but I would have preferred luxury at this stage. We wandered into the City Centre on Sunday. Serious Bloke ( long story ) AKA Cabin Boy, AKA Mike was  surprised to see all the shops open. It frightened him. He has led a sheltered life, poor soul. We got a UK SIM card and nasty little phone, being reassured it would cover our beloved island on its bargain bundle of £10 per day for all calls and texts. After 2 days we had run out of money and had to top up.... No,  it did not include our little ...

Scanning and Planning. Apologies to my dear friend the Vicar’s daughter and Vicar’s sister. I am quite a nice girl really, and  only resort to foul language when foul things are happening. Like now.  We have to get up at 5.00am to catch the Red Eye. My alarm decides to come to life at 4.00am, needless to say I don’t go back to sleep. Mike (Cabin Boy) does. Is it him, or do all men have tremendous sleeping skills? Fortunately no fog, and a good flight. We arrive at the hospital at 8.30. I had managed to negotiate my way out of another appointment the following week, as my Oncologist is away on leave this week. Surely they shouldn’t be allowed leave. They have a job to do! Another kind doctor had agreed to see me instead, and I have been told to ask at Reception. Nobody knows anything about it. We are sent all round the Hospital asking about said doctor, nobody knows where he is. Is he having a lie in? They take me into the Radiotherapy suite early. ( Don'...

The first visit. And so it's off to see the Oncologist. As we live in the middle of the sea on a small island, we have to go by plane. I know this sounds exotic, it isn't. It's bloody exhausting, Cabin Boy dutifully comes with me. We arrive at the hospital, which holds scary memories of the Cabin Boy being close to death because of his scary treatment, and my experiences in the Neuro Wing, having various test and hurty things being done to my spine. Being the strong, 'I can cope with anything' woman - I immediately broke down, dissolving into this howling, shaking, jibbering wreck of a woman. WTF? Cabin Boy pats me, which he always does when he doesn't know what to do. Is it a man thing? Didn't he realise 40 years ago when I was in labour, when he was told to fuck off after attempting to pat me? But bless him, what else to do. Anyway, big, deep breath, lippy on, upwards and onwards we go. The Consultant, a lady in her mid 40s, - so young! Rather seriou...

People of delicate disposition, Vicars’ wives, Vicars, please do not continue. It may cause offence. I am writing this because I have been on the Internet, and became frightened with people saying they nearly died with diarrhoea, nausea and nasty things. I aim to provide a lighter view of my progress through something rather horrible. Shit Happens Well, here we go again. Do I have a large cow flying over me, whilst others have the bluebird of happiness. Without trying to bore you, but I feel as if I have had my fair share of crap. At the gentle age of 16, I was in and out of hospital with serious back problems. This resulted in rather heavy spinal and neurological surgery at the age of 22. I didn’t know for some time that I had a form of Spina Bifida. A big part of my spine has been encased in metal since. I even had to have it done again at the age of 45 when my spine near collapsed. Then the big bit! An intra cerebral brain haemorrhage on my 56th birthday. I am now paralysed d...