Under the scanner



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't you just love the title 'suite'? ). I have various ‘chats’ with various people. Some tell me I will feel nauseous and lose my appetite, which I have already been told, which accounts for the number of new rolls I have gathered around my person. My stomach has expanded so much, I have difficulty filling it! Anyway, they go through the side effects – again. I’m not sure I really want to know. This time I am told that I will probably end up in Hospital due to the bottom skin burning off & resulting infection risk in my nether regions. No, I don’t want to know thank you. 

I am told the scan should take about half an hour. Before that, I have to drink a lot of water with something suspicious added to it. I am called in and lain on a cold hard surface. There are hard plastic ‘pillows’ that support my head and go under my knees and against my feet. As I can’t flex my left foot, it has to be man handled into position, it keeps pinging out……it has a mind of its own. Something, I don’t know what, or why, has been put in between my buttocks, and just before that they have to be pushed in and out to check for an ‘air hole’. Can you imagine forging a career for yourself as a buttock pusher? I suppose some might enjoy it! As it is, I have no ‘air hole’ so it doesn’t need to be taped up each time I go. Imagine the poor folk that do have one! It’s not something to show off about is it? I wonder though - don't we all have one?

I am then tattooed, yes literally. One on each hip and one in the middle. I did ask for dolphins and butterflies, but I don’t think the NHS stretch to that. They are to line me up in the right position for the radiotherapy. – every day.

Then the attempted vein finding begins. I did warn them! My arm resembles that of a heroin addict’s. After at least 10 attempts, another doctor was called in. They start checking on various other parts of my anatomy for accessible veins. Finally, luck in the back of my hand. Some suspicious liquid is pumped in.  I am then whizzed backwards and forwards under the scanner, whilst I light up inside. I feel a warm glow between my legs and in my chest. Strange…..

Any tiny amount of dignity I may have had has disappeared. I have been bundled and pulled around like a lump of meat (more like lard) with my pants around my knees. Being pretty useless down the one side doesn't help. Good job I've done this hospital thing before & have given birth. At least there was no patting. 

The missing doctor has finally been tracked down, and I am then talked through the treatment, yet again, and asked to sign forms. I’m glad I didn’t have to make another trip next week just for that. On whizzing through the risks, I note the last one reads 'very rarely the treatment can be life threatening and may even cause death' I get another warm rush, I wouldn't call it a glow.

This bit is over. We are finished for today. We hurry away to look for the apartments we are to stay in. They look very pleasant, high rise blocks over a pleasant little marina.

We treat ourselves to a lovely meal, then waste time until finally arriving home at 9.30pm. A long stressful day. BUT I tick off 4 of the 46 appointments I have on my planning list. I have a sore bottom - already!

Fucking cancer.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Ring of Fire

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 ...
Read more

Need to go again

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...
Read more

Round the Bend

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....
Read more