….I ran away!
I’ve developed a real dislike for hospitals. I can do the out-patient stuff no problem, lots of people to chat to and generally people who are either only a little bit poorly or dealing with their poorliness quite well. It’s the in-patient stuff that makes the hairs (the sparse few) on the back of my neck stand on end.
Until this cancer malarky I hadn’t had much experiences of hospitals except that Master Bad Fairy was born in hospital. Such a delightful experience that proved to be that Miss Bad Fairy was born at home!
Last Thursday I was admitted for a planned procedure. I need a drain in my abdomen…the build up of fluid makes it look like I’m expecting triplets at least. Anyway, the plan was to go in on Thursday, have an ultrasound, fit the drain and then home on Friday. Can’t say I was looking forward to it but it needs to be done so with gritted teeth off we set. Unbelievably I was admitted and allocated the same bed as the one I had during my “visit” in June when I was neutropenic and had the hugely manky mouth. That set the first hairs bristling.
The ultrasound went ahead with much muttering from the radiographer. The idea of the ultrasound is that the radiographer picks the safest place for a doctor to stick a needle in without hitting anything vital….she marks the spot with a big X. Sadly there was no safe spot. The procedure will need to be done whilst the doctor can see the scan. The solution, stay in an extra few nights until this can be organised or go home and come back at a later date, probably in more discomfort and definitely with the equivalent of quads not triplets. Hairs bristling like no-ones business I legged it home!
Now I know most people will think that’s not the most sensible option, especially if you know me and know that I don’t get easily spooked so let me explain.
It all stems from my “visit” in June. I know I was ill and needed to be there and I’m grateful to all the staff for sorting me out and getting me back on my feet. My newly found dislike of hospital is nothing to do with the staff or the care they give, it’s simply down to the other patients. That sounds really callous doesn’t it? They can’t help being there either. But let me tell you, it was awful.
It’s a six bed, single sex oncology ward. One woman did nothing but whinge in one of those pathetic helpless little girlie voices, “I’m neutropenic, who made this sandwich, I have to be careful you know”, and in the next breath whinging that her takeaway Indian meal she’d had brought in was leaking sauce all over the floor. (It went on!). Another lady lay in her bed, I suspect close to the end of her life. Whether she was aware of much going on around her I don’t know but I’m sure her family were. A third lady spent her time talking, quite loudly, on her phone telling the world how the staff were with-holding morphine from her and then making racist comments about one of the nurses. There was also mention of sweet jars filled with pills being knocked over by cats and GPs confiscating the lot! The fourth lady sadly had the start of dementia to deal with along with her other ailments. She slept for much of the day but came to life at visiting time and continued through the night. She had conversations with people who weren’t there, getting cross because they weren’t doing what she asked. One night I found her next to my bed (she was in the furthest bed from me!). Apparently I had a hidden stash of chocolate and alcohol and she wanted some. I tried to carefully disentagle her zimmer frame and feet from my drip lines and guide her back to bed but had to use the “call” button to get the night nurse to come and help out. The next night she needed a wee and shuffled to the middle of the ward and did what she had to do. Again I had to get up and go and find the night nurse, fearing that she’d slip and really hurt herself.
The fifth lady was in the bed next to me. She was elderly and obviously very poorly. She still had a smile on her face and tried so hard to not inconvenience the nurses. I had no option but to lie in my bed and listen to the medical team trying to clear her lungs to help ease her discomfort and perform various other procedures to help her last hours or days be more comfortable. No option but to overhear the conversations her family had around her bedside, remembering that they had to speak loud enough to be heard above the shouting into telephones on the other side of the room. Lady number five died.
So now you know, that’s why I ran away. Cowardly? Maybe. Preserving my sanity? Definitely.
Sunday 22 August 2010
Friday 13 August 2010
Busy days and.....
....lumps ‘n’ bumps!
I’m cream crackered! Pleasantly cream crackered it has to be said.
Yesterday was a busy day. We took the children to watch the Severn Bore. It wasn’t the most spectacular one I’ve seen, it was a three star version (the best being a five star). For their first one they were suitably impressed with the power of nature! The wave was big enough for the surfers brave enough to dodge the water propelled tree trunks to surf for a while, although I don’t suppose anyone broke any records. The bore is one of those natural events which is quite breath-taking to witness, the natural power of the tide in a quickly narrowing river can only reinforce any respect you have of water. Personally I wouldn’t set foot in the river, one it’s cold, two it’s very powerful and three it’s wet!!
Then it was off for chemo. All went smoothly and it was back home ready for the Juniors bed time.
Not that they stayed there for too long. Mr Bad Fairy had promised to wake them up to watch the meteor shower! So at midnight Master Bad Fairy sat ooohing and ahhing accompanied by constant “Wow did you see that?” and chatter chatter chatter. Miss Bad Fairy sat on my knee with three coats on her and a hot water bottle and couldn’t resist the offer of a second tucking into bed for the evening!
And now the lumps and bumps bit. Slight exaggeration, it’s only one lump or even bump. Right at the bottom of my breast bone. Dr Socks says it’s a “tumour deposit”, in other words this grotty disease has now shown it’s presence in my skin. Hrmph! It started as a little bump, possibly a bite or spot so I didn’t think much of it. It’s now about a centimetre in diameter and is looking very attractive….not. Luckily it hasn’t broken through the skin so it doesn’t need dressing or fussing over. Dr Socks thinks it could be a useful indicator as to whether this chemo is being effective but has said that if it becomes troublesome or painful he’ll zap it with radiotherapy. The only troublesome bit, if you can call it that, is that I’m now having to do an impression of a free spirited 70’s hippy chic or maybe it’s a radical feminist. Bras have had to be abandoned as the band rests on the lump and I’m not risking damaging or irritating the skin any more than necessary. But then, as I’m not in the habit of hoisting my t-shirt over me head in public places I don’t suppose it will have a huge impact on my lifestyle!!
I’m cream crackered! Pleasantly cream crackered it has to be said.
Yesterday was a busy day. We took the children to watch the Severn Bore. It wasn’t the most spectacular one I’ve seen, it was a three star version (the best being a five star). For their first one they were suitably impressed with the power of nature! The wave was big enough for the surfers brave enough to dodge the water propelled tree trunks to surf for a while, although I don’t suppose anyone broke any records. The bore is one of those natural events which is quite breath-taking to witness, the natural power of the tide in a quickly narrowing river can only reinforce any respect you have of water. Personally I wouldn’t set foot in the river, one it’s cold, two it’s very powerful and three it’s wet!!
Then it was off for chemo. All went smoothly and it was back home ready for the Juniors bed time.
Not that they stayed there for too long. Mr Bad Fairy had promised to wake them up to watch the meteor shower! So at midnight Master Bad Fairy sat ooohing and ahhing accompanied by constant “Wow did you see that?” and chatter chatter chatter. Miss Bad Fairy sat on my knee with three coats on her and a hot water bottle and couldn’t resist the offer of a second tucking into bed for the evening!
And now the lumps and bumps bit. Slight exaggeration, it’s only one lump or even bump. Right at the bottom of my breast bone. Dr Socks says it’s a “tumour deposit”, in other words this grotty disease has now shown it’s presence in my skin. Hrmph! It started as a little bump, possibly a bite or spot so I didn’t think much of it. It’s now about a centimetre in diameter and is looking very attractive….not. Luckily it hasn’t broken through the skin so it doesn’t need dressing or fussing over. Dr Socks thinks it could be a useful indicator as to whether this chemo is being effective but has said that if it becomes troublesome or painful he’ll zap it with radiotherapy. The only troublesome bit, if you can call it that, is that I’m now having to do an impression of a free spirited 70’s hippy chic or maybe it’s a radical feminist. Bras have had to be abandoned as the band rests on the lump and I’m not risking damaging or irritating the skin any more than necessary. But then, as I’m not in the habit of hoisting my t-shirt over me head in public places I don’t suppose it will have a huge impact on my lifestyle!!
Tuesday 10 August 2010
The wanderer.....
….returns!
Dr Socks is back! He didn’t go to Cromer in a caravan, neither did he sail between exotic tropical islands and sadly I don’t think he bought himself any commemorative holiday socks…but he’s back.
I was quite surprised at how pleased I was to see him. Not in a weak at the knees in awe of the great doctor way, I don’t do that sort of thing. Besides, when you’ve been told of the entertaining antics of the off-duty version it’d be hard to be in awe and keep a straight face!! These unexpected feelings were probably because I’d been feeling more unsettled than I realised what with the last few weeks of ups and downs, the stay in hospital, the manky mouth and delays in treatment etc. Strange really as I have every faith in his team. Dr Tink’ is brilliant and I trust her judgement, sometimes I suppose it’s just nice to hear things from the Big Cheese. (No dubious connections between socks and cheese please!!)
Anyway, now I feel happier, more confident and reassured. It’s also written in black and white on my notes that I’m not ready to be consigned to the bin yet! The plan of attack is to have another dose of Taxotere this week and hope that my improved liver function will “rinse” it out before it attacks my mouth too severely but not before it’s done its job. If all goes to plan then I can continue on a weekly dose. If it doesn’t then next out of the chemo cupboard will probably be Gemcitabine.
Home we headed and as a reward for being so patient I spent some time teaching the Junior Bad Fairies the fine arts of playing poker. Okay, not poker, I never was any good at poker … I have to have a written list of what beats what because I can never remember. As for having a ’poker face’, no chance! We played Rummy and Trumps, very exciting I know but when you’re eight and nine it makes no difference what you play as long as you have a chance of beating Mum. Sadly they did and no I didn’t sulk, but they did have to do some bedroom tidying!
Dr Socks is back! He didn’t go to Cromer in a caravan, neither did he sail between exotic tropical islands and sadly I don’t think he bought himself any commemorative holiday socks…but he’s back.
I was quite surprised at how pleased I was to see him. Not in a weak at the knees in awe of the great doctor way, I don’t do that sort of thing. Besides, when you’ve been told of the entertaining antics of the off-duty version it’d be hard to be in awe and keep a straight face!! These unexpected feelings were probably because I’d been feeling more unsettled than I realised what with the last few weeks of ups and downs, the stay in hospital, the manky mouth and delays in treatment etc. Strange really as I have every faith in his team. Dr Tink’ is brilliant and I trust her judgement, sometimes I suppose it’s just nice to hear things from the Big Cheese. (No dubious connections between socks and cheese please!!)
Anyway, now I feel happier, more confident and reassured. It’s also written in black and white on my notes that I’m not ready to be consigned to the bin yet! The plan of attack is to have another dose of Taxotere this week and hope that my improved liver function will “rinse” it out before it attacks my mouth too severely but not before it’s done its job. If all goes to plan then I can continue on a weekly dose. If it doesn’t then next out of the chemo cupboard will probably be Gemcitabine.
Home we headed and as a reward for being so patient I spent some time teaching the Junior Bad Fairies the fine arts of playing poker. Okay, not poker, I never was any good at poker … I have to have a written list of what beats what because I can never remember. As for having a ’poker face’, no chance! We played Rummy and Trumps, very exciting I know but when you’re eight and nine it makes no difference what you play as long as you have a chance of beating Mum. Sadly they did and no I didn’t sulk, but they did have to do some bedroom tidying!
Tuesday 3 August 2010
Woe is me.....
…..but don’t despair!
It was the weekly jaunt to see the consultant today to get the ok for chemo this week and woe is me ….the little toe-rag is on holiday! Fancy that, holidays in August tut tut, how dare he. Mr Bad Fairy muttered under his breath about Dr Socks probably being on a yacht sailing to and fro between exotic islands. I was thinking more caravan at Cromer maybe?
After a mere two hour wait and numerous cups of tea I was summoned in to see the covering doctor. A quick chat and a glance down my throat was all it needed for it to be confirmed that the thrush birds are still in residence. Not as many but still lingering. So no chemo for this week. My liver function is relatively stable despite having last week’s dose cancelled so it wasn’t too hard to agree with the doctor that the best thing was to wait another week, speak with Dr Socks next Tuesday and see where we go from there (the Bahamas would be nice but I don‘t think the NHS would pay for that as a therapy!). The decision was helped along by my comment about not wanting to be admitted to hospital again and the doctor’s return comment that chemo can kill!
I don’t know how effective the limited amount of this chemo I’ve had has been on the cloudy tumours but it’s done the deed with my hair and nails. Each eye has about a dozen lashes left (yes I did try, unsuccessfully, to count them without poking myself in the eye). I do wonder why it is that even the bottom lashes when they fall manage to defy gravity and fall up into my eye. Why is that? My eyebrows are also doing their own thing. I could start yet another new trend here. For some weird reason I’ve lost a horizontal stripe right through the middle of one eyebrow. I now look like I have “go faster” stripes above my right eye! As for nails, let’s just not go there …. Mr Bad Fairy has been told he is the official scratcher and will have to scratch any itchy bits for me!!
It was the weekly jaunt to see the consultant today to get the ok for chemo this week and woe is me ….the little toe-rag is on holiday! Fancy that, holidays in August tut tut, how dare he. Mr Bad Fairy muttered under his breath about Dr Socks probably being on a yacht sailing to and fro between exotic islands. I was thinking more caravan at Cromer maybe?
After a mere two hour wait and numerous cups of tea I was summoned in to see the covering doctor. A quick chat and a glance down my throat was all it needed for it to be confirmed that the thrush birds are still in residence. Not as many but still lingering. So no chemo for this week. My liver function is relatively stable despite having last week’s dose cancelled so it wasn’t too hard to agree with the doctor that the best thing was to wait another week, speak with Dr Socks next Tuesday and see where we go from there (the Bahamas would be nice but I don‘t think the NHS would pay for that as a therapy!). The decision was helped along by my comment about not wanting to be admitted to hospital again and the doctor’s return comment that chemo can kill!
I don’t know how effective the limited amount of this chemo I’ve had has been on the cloudy tumours but it’s done the deed with my hair and nails. Each eye has about a dozen lashes left (yes I did try, unsuccessfully, to count them without poking myself in the eye). I do wonder why it is that even the bottom lashes when they fall manage to defy gravity and fall up into my eye. Why is that? My eyebrows are also doing their own thing. I could start yet another new trend here. For some weird reason I’ve lost a horizontal stripe right through the middle of one eyebrow. I now look like I have “go faster” stripes above my right eye! As for nails, let’s just not go there …. Mr Bad Fairy has been told he is the official scratcher and will have to scratch any itchy bits for me!!
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