IN THE CLUB

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 notice him. There are people with holes in their throats, large tumours on their faces. I could continue, but won’t. I am shocked by the number of young people around. I make friends with a young couple. They look young ( to me ) He is in a wheelchair. She tells me he has had a large tumour removed from his spine, rendering him paraplegic, he now has one attached to his wind pipe and is having pain in his arms. We compare notes, I am the lucky one. Most people I speak to say “where’s yours?” When I say mine is anal, they



express horror, then whisper, “I’ve never heard of that before”. I haven’t either. There is no whispering when they tell me where there’s is!  Why does my bottom merit a whisper?

So this is ‘the club’. My life is totally immersed in f****ing cancer. Everyone either has it, or is with someone who has it, or is treating someone with it. Are we going to reach a stage when everyone has it?

My lovely doctor suggested I start my salt solution. Cabin Boy fills my portable bidet and places it on the toilet. I lower myself into it. The water pours on to the floor, my  knickers, trousers, toilet roll and shoes. Poor C.B. then has to get a towel and is mopping up trying to lift my legs up, while I am still on it. More water pours out. I can’t get off as I will slip as my feet are now wet. Total chaos. After much mopping, I am able to get off. I’m not sure how much good it has done! Later on, we have another couple of goes, they prove to be a bit better, but it is obviously a skill which we hope will improve with practice! I would love a bath, but would get stuck in it, as I can’t get out of one.

And so every day becomes a treadmill of getting on the mini bus, trip to the hospital, hours waiting, then back to the apartment. The great news is that they came to fix the door. That day, the weather changes, it becomes winter again, very cold and wet. The door is kept firmly closed.......

My week is lightened up by a visit from an old Kenya friend, and a delivery of a fantastic breakfast hamper from our girls, plus some very rude cards, and some not so rude. The highlight being a surprise visit by daughter no. 1 who stayed for just a night. On Saturday ( after treatment ) we visited The New Forest and discovered a lovely market where we spent too much money. It is lovely to escape the F.C. environment for a while.


I have felt really well. The doctor is pleased, and really quite surprised I am so well. My lovely anal nurse visited and was also pleasantly surprised at my state of health. Bottom is bearing up. Frequently


literally.



On Saturday there were some warnings. A number of trips to the toilet and a certain burning sensation indicate something is starting to happen. On Sunday it gets worse. I probably shouldn’t have had vegetable curry last night! The bottom starts falling out of my world, or rather, my body.
I am expecting it all to get worse this week.

Cabin Boy is leaving me for a few days and daughter no. 2 is arriving to take on nursing care. I am so looking forward to seeing her, but will miss C.B. who caters for my every need. We are ready for a little time apart though, as it does become intense.

And so ends the second week. 10 days through. Only 18 more treatments! Over one third through.

Apologies for frequent delays in relying to emails etc. Surprisingly, the days are rather full.

I’m not very good at this blog thing, it is difficult to edit, as the page shoots all over the place, and I don’t know how you make comments, although some have successfully done it. I have received some encouraging comments in other forms, so thank you.

Bottoms up!