The Demise of Roland Ratso: Chapter ten

Wednesday 18th and I blotted my copybook. In my kitchen I have a whiteboard which I put most of my appointments on. I call it the “wailing wall” because quite often I miss something and then shout “oh no!” I arrived at the clinic at 1500, “Hello” said the radiographer, “we expected you at 1300. You have mistaken the time with the consultant’s appointment yesterday. I explained that I had been on a speed reading course and when I was younger I could read 750 words a minute with 85% comprehension. Now I can read five words a minute and don’t understand any of them! Thursday 19th and LINAC 1 had broken down so the appointments were late again although there were only three in front of me. Nothing else much to report really. Friday 20th – had an appointment with Dr. Lewis regarding my back pain which started before treatment. She was not happy that I had not mentioned it to the radio consultant – mental note – will mention it next Tuesday. Dr. Lewis said she had spoken to the oncology department and they were pleased with my progress. She was impressed with my positive attitude and asked me if my hair was falling out or whether I had shaved it. I told her I shaved it regularly – it is truly the only thin part of me. Eleanor (granddaughter aged 5) asked me why I have got to go to hospital everyday. Told her that I had to lay on a table and they pulled my pants down and wrote on my bum. She replied “Why haven’t they got any paper?” We all fell about laughing. It reminded of the time when I drew a face on my hand to make a puppet. Eleanor then scribbled on her hands and hid them behind her back telling Irene that “Grandpa had drawed on his self!” Had to change a couple of appointments because of other commitments. Not much of a problem except on is at 1750 – it will be interesting to see if later appointments are any easier regarding travel and parking. The pain in the front of my mouth has abated and in spite of Irene’s remarks that I don’t smile I am now able to give a big toothy grin but unless the pain in my left hand jaw abates I am going to need some advice and possible a trip to the dentist. Peter Cox phoned me just as I was leaving the doctor. Peter is part of the inspiration for this journal as Peter and his wife Joy ran a poetry group in Cotgrave and encouraged me to write. I had to tell him that a mutual friend Chris Muter had collapsed and died last Monday. Chris had written a number of poems that are definitely worth publishing. For a Geordie pit lad his poetry was amazing and there is one of his poems “Red Ribbon” that sends a shiver down my spine every time I read it. If I can find it I will publish it on cancer backup even though it is nothing to do with illness. My face still feels like it is falling off. I just wish the one behind mine looked like George Clooney or someone. But no – every time I look in the mirror it’s still me. Got the weekend off from radio – as you do. Bill Roberts and Alan Parry have asked me to go for a curry with them on Saturday. We used to regularly before I started treatment. Dare I risk it?