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. He did inform me that both doctors had written that it was the worst reaction they had ever seen. Comforting. I did say to him that it could be quite awkward when people asked me how I was, when I replied “I am struggling with swollen labia, how are you?” Perhaps best not to be so explicit, people might be sick.
I finally reached the last day of my treatment. I went in like a child in Primary School, with end of term gifts and cards. The staff had been so wonderful, boxes of biscuits seemed quite pathetic as a thank you. I couldn’t thank them enough, down to the lovely phlebotomist, despite draining me of blood for the duration. What a character, always a smile and nothing too much trouble. I think the department would fall apart without her.
Daughter number one had arrived, to ensure Mr Bloke didn’t pack what didn’t belong. The packing
proved to be monumental. How did we end up with more than we took? We would have struggled without one wonderful daughter. We stayed in a hotel near the ferry the night before we sailed, which was very comfortable. Dear friends visited us for tea that afternoon. We had a cabin for the 10 hour crossing. Fortunately all was calm. Cabin Boy fell short in his duties, as he climbed on the top bunk - with difficulty! & promptly went sound asleep for many hours. In fact all 3 of us slept. At one stage. I awoke and it looked like the voyage of the dead. We were all pretty unconscious. Just before arriving home, I was well enough to go up to the restaurant and enjoy a plate of fish and chips, adding yet more to the excessive weight gain I had undergone, which was not meant to happen. So finally home. So, so relieved and happy to be here. The garden looks wonderful.Yes, the garden. I placed an advert on a local Face Book page, stating that I was coming to the end of 6 weeks of chemotherapy and radiotherapy and was concerned about the state of my garden. I asked if anyone could recommend a reasonably priced gardener who would go and buy some bedding plants and put them in for our return. I had approximately 100 responses! One kind man who was the first to offer his services,
agreed to take it on. I then had an offer from a gardening maintenance company who offered to do the preparation and the a local Nurseryffered £50 worth of plants! I was totally overwhelmed and moved to tears by the offers of help and support and good wishes. This is the people of Jersey at their best. They pull together to help others. The garden is a picture. It will really help in my recovery.
But, all was not well unfortunately. After just a couple of days of writhing about in agony. Crying when trying to pee, screaming when trying to poo, I called my Nurse. She told me to go and see her straight away. Somehow I got to the hospital. She had managed to contact the lovely Consultant who arrived straight away. They both peered at my bits exclaiming that they’d never seen anything like it before. I was tempted to say “that’s what all the men say” but considered it inappropriate at such a time.(and untrue!) They decided that I had to be admitted to hospital. I couldn’t bear the thought of a public ward, especially a toilet, with a strong risk of infection. So I asked for a private room, rather warily as I had only recently cancelled my Private Insurance, and the rooms are very expensive. As it happened, they had to barrier nurse me for some of the time, so I’m hoping we won’t have to pay - forever the optimist. Hospital for 4 days, and treated like a Queen. Naturally, I didn’t object. The food was amazing, and Sod’s law, I have finally lost my appetite! I could only manage tiny morsels of the most delicious food, served by Kenyan Chefs, who nearly dropped the plates when I greeted them in
Swahili! I have lost 8lbs in 10 days. They did warn me. So finally back in my lovely home. I have to spend most ofthe time in bed, which is where I am comfortable. The lotions and potions are working, I can now go to the toilet without crying. Apart from last night when thinking I had wind, I went into the bathroom. Unfortunately it wasn’t and I left yet another trail of unwanted poo on the floor. Is there a form I canget from the Pope or somebody to propose Cabin Boy for a Sainthood? There he was on hands and knees, dettox and kitchen roll mopping up after me, while I am sitting on the toilet with it up my arm, on my leg, and just about everywhere else. Of course being able to do very little as my only arm that works is covered in it, so I can’t touch anything.I am wailing about being scared of getting an infection, CB just gets on with it. This all takes place at around 11.00pm when we are both ready for bed. When we were finally clean and in bed, I did ask if he would like to put me in a home. He didn’t reply, but was soon heard snoring. Perhaps he didn’t hear me? Or perhaps he’s been to the Cheshire Home today to book me in.......
I think I have finally gone round the bend - or should I say turned a corner!I am starting to heal, I can wee without crying. I can get up for a few hours. We went to our daughter’s for a Father’s Day BBQ,
in the rain.I had to wear a granny’s incontinence knicker pad. They are so big and uncomfortable, in fact painful. They pressed on all the sore bits. I couldn’t get in or out of the car without howling. When there, they found a little, more comfortable chair, which they placed at the end of the table. I sat like a shrivelled little granny, trying not to show the pain I was in. It didn’t last long, and we came home, where I couldn’t wait to dive into bed.
Our neighbour has kindly lent us a television for the bedroom. I was able to watch Poldark in bed, I mean from my bed, well you know what I mean. I am writing a research paper on sanitary pads. I have tried every one available.
More next time.
Does anyone know of a bull elephant in need of a sanitary pad?
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. He did inform me that both doctors had written that it was the worst reaction they had ever seen. Comforting. I did say to him that it could be quite awkward when people asked me how I was, when I replied “I am struggling with swollen labia, how are you?” Perhaps best not to be so explicit, people might be sick.
I finally reached the last day of my treatment. I went in like a child in Primary School, with end of term gifts and cards. The staff had been so wonderful, boxes of biscuits seemed quite pathetic as a thank you. I couldn’t thank them enough, down to the lovely phlebotomist, despite draining me of blood for the duration. What a character, always a smile and nothing too much trouble. I think the department would fall apart without her.
Daughter number one had arrived, to ensure Mr Bloke didn’t pack what didn’t belong. The packing
proved to be monumental. How did we end up with more than we took? We would have struggled without one wonderful daughter. We stayed in a hotel near the ferry the night before we sailed, which was very comfortable. Dear friends visited us for tea that afternoon. We had a cabin for the 10 hour crossing. Fortunately all was calm. Cabin Boy fell short in his duties, as he climbed on the top bunk - with difficulty! & promptly went sound asleep for many hours. In fact all 3 of us slept. At one stage. I awoke and it looked like the voyage of the dead. We were all pretty unconscious. Just before arriving home, I was well enough to go up to the restaurant and enjoy a plate of fish and chips, adding yet more to the excessive weight gain I had undergone, which was not meant to happen. So finally home. So, so relieved and happy to be here. The garden looks wonderful.Yes, the garden. I placed an advert on a local Face Book page, stating that I was coming to the end of 6 weeks of chemotherapy and radiotherapy and was concerned about the state of my garden. I asked if anyone could recommend a reasonably priced gardener who would go and buy some bedding plants and put them in for our return. I had approximately 100 responses! One kind man who was the first to offer his services,
agreed to take it on. I then had an offer from a gardening maintenance company who offered to do the preparation and the a local Nurseryffered £50 worth of plants! I was totally overwhelmed and moved to tears by the offers of help and support and good wishes. This is the people of Jersey at their best. They pull together to help others. The garden is a picture. It will really help in my recovery.
But, all was not well unfortunately. After just a couple of days of writhing about in agony. Crying when trying to pee, screaming when trying to poo, I called my Nurse. She told me to go and see her straight away. Somehow I got to the hospital. She had managed to contact the lovely Consultant who arrived straight away. They both peered at my bits exclaiming that they’d never seen anything like it before. I was tempted to say “that’s what all the men say” but considered it inappropriate at such a time.(and untrue!) They decided that I had to be admitted to hospital. I couldn’t bear the thought of a public ward, especially a toilet, with a strong risk of infection. So I asked for a private room, rather warily as I had only recently cancelled my Private Insurance, and the rooms are very expensive. As it happened, they had to barrier nurse me for some of the time, so I’m hoping we won’t have to pay - forever the optimist. Hospital for 4 days, and treated like a Queen. Naturally, I didn’t object. The food was amazing, and Sod’s law, I have finally lost my appetite! I could only manage tiny morsels of the most delicious food, served by Kenyan Chefs, who nearly dropped the plates when I greeted them in
Swahili! I have lost 8lbs in 10 days. They did warn me. So finally back in my lovely home. I have to spend most ofthe time in bed, which is where I am comfortable. The lotions and potions are working, I can now go to the toilet without crying. Apart from last night when thinking I had wind, I went into the bathroom. Unfortunately it wasn’t and I left yet another trail of unwanted poo on the floor. Is there a form I canget from the Pope or somebody to propose Cabin Boy for a Sainthood? There he was on hands and knees, dettox and kitchen roll mopping up after me, while I am sitting on the toilet with it up my arm, on my leg, and just about everywhere else. Of course being able to do very little as my only arm that works is covered in it, so I can’t touch anything.I am wailing about being scared of getting an infection, CB just gets on with it. This all takes place at around 11.00pm when we are both ready for bed. When we were finally clean and in bed, I did ask if he would like to put me in a home. He didn’t reply, but was soon heard snoring. Perhaps he didn’t hear me? Or perhaps he’s been to the Cheshire Home today to book me in.......
I think I have finally gone round the bend - or should I say turned a corner!I am starting to heal, I can wee without crying. I can get up for a few hours. We went to our daughter’s for a Father’s Day BBQ,
in the rain.I had to wear a granny’s incontinence knicker pad. They are so big and uncomfortable, in fact painful. They pressed on all the sore bits. I couldn’t get in or out of the car without howling. When there, they found a little, more comfortable chair, which they placed at the end of the table. I sat like a shrivelled little granny, trying not to show the pain I was in. It didn’t last long, and we came home, where I couldn’t wait to dive into bed.
Our neighbour has kindly lent us a television for the bedroom. I was able to watch Poldark in bed, I mean from my bed, well you know what I mean. I am writing a research paper on sanitary pads. I have tried every one available.
More next time.
Does anyone know of a bull elephant in need of a sanitary pad?
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