The Demise of Roland Ratso: Chapter nineteen.

On the way back listening to radio Nottingham and there is an eminent pioneering research consultant who specialises in dealing with children’s brain tumours. Coincidence or what? Apparently Nottingham University Hospital is making massive strides in that area but what struck me was the humility of the man. He was so grateful that his work can make a difference and when asked if he took his work home responded that of course he did and some of his decisions are heartbreaking, especially as a father of two himself. Then someone telephoned to thank him for saving her daughter who was diagnosed with a brain tumour at thirteen and was now in remission at seventeen and going to college. The woman called her daughter Miss Attitude and I thought too damn right! Let’s have more of it. The consultant said that the “attitude” placed her in a far better position to deal with her illness. He also said that he was dealing with a terminal young boy who looked a lot like his own son and he found that very hard. Then the local news has an item about a man in a local fish and chip shop who is approached by a stranger who tells him that he is a doctor and he needs to go and see his GP because he has got a melanoma. The surgeon then removes a golf ball sized tumour which would have been fatal. Be ever vigilant folks! Wednesday 4th March and it is trying to snow at Wilko Street car park. I thought we had done with that. The medilink bus turns up while I am parking but doesn’t drive off for a change and I am five minutes early. Lurch is waiting outside in the corridor looking for his next victim no doubt. There are two waiting in front of me –one gets called in and after she leaves an elderly gentleman removes his coat; he is expecting to go in next. Except they call my name instead. Not quite sure how their system works but I know some of it is they due batches of patients with the same cancers so they don’t have to keep re-rigging the LINAC between head, breast, arse and bollocks. “Bit of a longer shot today” Says Richard, “ We are doing some images.” Much more professional than photographs! I undo my britches and assume the position. My eyes are exactly opposite the two scratches on the table. We’ll get lined up more quickly today. Shots and images completed I pull up my underclarts (got them on the right way this time!) and then my britches. Another joy of joys. There is another bottle on the chair – complete with funnel for some more capturing of the bodily secretions. Haven’t they got enough of my juices flying around their hyperspace? Then off to my local chemist. Something curious has happened. I have ran out of Metformin – a diabetic drug when all the rest of my prescriptions have a week to run. I ask my pharmacist if I can borrow some metformin. I can’t understand it. The doctors in hospital took my drugs box away three times. The only thing I can think of is that they have lost them somehow. Or maybe jealous of my self-medication. The upshot is that now I have to go to my GP and get a prescription for a week to balance his books.