Bad Friday

Head Rambles Posted on by

I have been trying to write this for some time now, but each time I start, it comes out all wrong.

There has been a somewhat cataclysmic change here at the Manor. It’s hard to describe in some ways but easy in others. Basically everything I took for granted has been turned on its head, so what was normal yesterday is suddenly alien today.

Recently new words have cropped up at an increasing rate in conversation with the medical profession – palliative care, DNR and rather scarily “end of life”. This seems to stem from a meeting with one of the hospital teams where there was casual mention of the spread of the cancer. Apparently they now reckon it has spread to the lungs. They haven’t actually done any biopsies but the unspoken words are that there is no need for tests.

I have now been assigned my own Palliative Care Nurse. She’s a lovely woman and very apologetic. She arrived here the other day and spent the afternoon asking such trivial questions as to my preference to being cremated or buried. I said I didn’t really care at that stage. In fact that was the answer to most of her queries which made conversation a little easier.

I’m not sure where I go from here. I am sitting here dosed up to the eyeballs with painkillers. The one thing I have made quite plain is that I do not want to go back to hospital. I have had enough of those places.

Going back to the first sentence in this little monologue, it has come out all wrong.  I knew it would.  There is a lot to say but I don’t know how to say it any more.  Anyhows I’m not going to bother proofreading or any of that crap. 

Take this for what it is – a sort of excuse for my absences.

 

 

Pump me up and let me go

Head Rambles Posted on by

This is weird.

I’m now all pumped up.

I am in a private room and there is a fear that could lead to isolation or boredom at best. Not so. I seem to have a constant stream of visitors from various disciplines all wanting my full medical history and wondering how I am.

Other times they arrive and just whisk me off to places unknown where I am subjected to various tortures. This morning it was my daily dose of radiation which I really hate with a vengeance.

Today I had a visit from Prof. As usual he spent more time silently writing notes than he did talking to me. I did learn two things though. The first is that apparently I’m a Warrior and that he has the greatest respect and hope as a result. The second thing is that he wants me to move back to the Public Hospital. I asked why ad he said he had six clinics in Public but only one in Private. So he wants me to downgrade to fit his schedules? I told him to fuck off. Maybe I didn’t quite use those words but he got the drift

The next lot to arrive were the Pump Team. I had heard various mentions of them but I hear a lot of strange stuff here so I just ignored it all.

But here they were. and they had a pump. And they had loads of tubing and stuff.

The first thing they did was to dismantle the pump. This involved removing a part, examining it very carefully before putting on one side. They then started the reassembly which dented my confidence even further because they had to try all sorts of different positions of a bit before it looked like it might work. Several times they had to go into reverse to get something to fit.

They then proceeded to stick a horse needle into my stomach and connect it to the pump. Then they had an argument as to how it should be programmed. I should add that this pump is large and heavy and sooner or later I’m going to forget that I’m attached and will try to walk away from it.

Maybe this pump will save my life?

Maybe accidentally disconnecting it will save my life?

I never trust a computer programmer unless they are me.

 

A drop of verisimilitude

Head Rambles Posted on by

You won’t believe this.

Actually I don’t. give a damn whether you believe it or not but it does make a break from the endless news about that moron Trump.

The fact is that I’m back in hospital. My break for freedom didn’t even last 48 hours before they had me back in the Big House. The reasons for the return are tedious, rank and not very pleasant so I’ll skip that bit. The big news is that I have been promoted yet again. Frequent Bed Miles? I have gone up a floor to a private room and what must be one of the best views in Dublin out over a golf course and the leafy suburbs to the Dublin Mountains in the distance.

On the negative side, they have gone ballistic on the radiography side of things. i am just back from a session and I can assure you it makes waterboarding seem like a walk in the park.

For those of you fortunate enough never to have undertaken the radiography route, the first session is where they get a plasticky king of mesh, plunge it in hot water and then press it over your face. the plastic hardens and takes on a precise death-mask of your facial features. For each session thereafter the mask is placed over your face and securely clamped to the bed of the machine. At this point your head is completely immobile. It is locked into the machine. the operators then bugger off and start pressing their buttons and things.

I don’t know if it’s just me but it feels like they are firing fire into my tongue. I can’t move. I can’t scream [my jaw is clamped shut in the mask]. All I can do is shed a tear and pray that the torture will end soon. I have to have ten sessions and today’s was the fifth.

Half way.

I try to look on the bright side.

 

A knacker’s tale

Head Rambles Posted on by

If you fall off a horse you should get straight back up again.

This seems to be the perceived wisdom though I confess I have never tried it, never having fallen off a horse.

I suppose though that this little piece of advice could be applied to my current life.

I have metaphorically fallen off now a couple of times where I found myself back in my favorite institution, the most recent being a couple of weeks ago. Each time I have bounced back with the possible exception of this trip.

I will be honest – I cannot remember ever being this exhausted before. If I sit down, I can’t get up again. The tumor in my face is literally a constant pain. My left eye feels like there is grit in it so I have to keep mopping tears out of it.

So am I getting back on the horse too early?

I don’t think so. The current Big Cheese doctor [they seem to rotate] doesn’t think so. Everyone seems happy for me, except for the fucking horse.

Maybe it’s time the old nag was melted down for glue…..