A light at the end of the tunnel
And it just may not be a train.
It has been a busy couple of days. Yesterday I had the usual needles poked into me, my pressure measured umpteen times and then the day was rounded off to perfection with a blood transfusion that lasted six hours.
Blood transfusions involve a bag of blood being hung off my coat rack and then the feed from that is fed via a little measuring box/pump and then into the cannula [that hateful fucking cannula] in my arm. I am therefore irrevocably tied to said coat rack for six hours which in turn is plugged into the mains. I relaxed on the bed and ignored the process [there isn’t much to excite the interest there anyway].
Then of course that moment came which is bound to do within six hours and where I have been told to drink lots of water – I had to go. Ho hum. I hopped out of bed [fresh blood always invigorates me. Ask Dracula] only to make a discovery. My intention was to unplug the measuring box/pump and then wheel the hatstand into the jax, which I have done many times before. However they had decided in their wisdom to hook me up to a hatstand I didn’t even realise was there. That hatstand was effectively part of my bed. I had the choice of unplugging and somehow detaching the hatstand and carrying it like an Olympic standard bearer into the toilet [which would mean I only had one hand left for other purposes] or I could just go back to bed. I chose the latter and called for a bottle.. I was morto.
During the transfusion I had a visit from my Fan Club. They did their usual poking around and then announced that I am finished with antibiotics and saline drips. They confirmed that the lump on my neck is indeed cancer but that it can be treated with pills. All that’s left is a visit to the oncologist.
This morning I was woken [after a rough night] at seven to donate a blood sample. Why the fuck couldn’t they have taken a sample of the hanging blood yesterday for the transfusion? Then of course the routine pressure tests. Then the Fan Club again with a gang of hangers on which kind of crowded the ward. Female doctor just stood and grinned at me [?]. I confirmed no more antibiotics – true. I confirmed no more saline drip – true. I confirmed no more transfusions – true. I asked if the cannula was not only redundant but banished to history – true. YES!!!!
Then I had a visit from a couple of lovelies from the university. Could they ask a few questions? Not only did they ask more than a few but I got a good physical too. That was a first and was very enjoyable.
All that before ten.
The only thing keeping me here now is waiting for an appointment with the oncologist.
Why do I have a sneaking feeling something else will crop up to keep me here?
Maybe they wish to discover the reason for your survival? Could it be the whiskey and downright contrariness that has sustained you lol…. Great to see you on the mend, as ever my thoughts and prayers be with you.
Whiskey and pipe tobacco!
The apparent light at the end of the tunnel is often the taxman carrying a torch to find you.
I’ll let the train get him…
Now, now, don’t be too hasty. At least some of the tax you have paid over the years went towards your treatment, so the taxman isn’t a complete waste of time. Besides, there is a finite limit to the number of bike sheds that are needed, and they have been giving a little back to you in recent times. 🙂
Fingers crossed and hoping!
Another week gone by with at least some activity – It could be worse, you could be a US astronaut on a space station whose Boeing capsule can’t get you back to earth – they’ll have to wait until feb ’25 (at least) until Elon can send up an uber or something! (I’m sure the Russians would send up a rocket next week if asked.).
I think evrything the NHS does is a matter of two steps forward, one step back, simply because they don’t focus on the individual but the illness, and they must be tripping over the red tape.
I hope Daughter is looking after your car – I have a friend borrowing my ‘spare’ and can’t help being anxious!
You could always set Herself on the hospital management – they might extract digits when faced with her in full flight!
I hope you can keep occupied over the weekend and hope you get some speedy action next week.
Wishing you all the best
Ian J
I waas going to reply to you lst night but events have taken a happy turn.They finally decided they couldn’t keep me forever and speedy action has indeed acted.