The demise of Roland Ratso: Chapter thirty nine

I get up in the morning rather late. Irene’s mate Bash is having a cup of tea and the two of them are cooking up some spells. Hubble bubble toil and trouble. Especially when they get together with their mate Jeanette. I am cooking my porridge and shovelling my drugs out when WHAM! No warning. Underclarts full! I start to go upstairs cheeks unfortunately clenched too late. It is now a damage limiting exercise. I strip off and get in the shower, knocking a bottle of some exotic Morrison’s potion into the bath. “What are you doing?” shouts Irene, “Are you OK.” “Yes” I reply “I’ve just shit myself!” Well there’s no point in beating about the bush. I have got a pressing engagement to deal with without having to give a running commentary. Then Irene shouts “There’s water coming through the ceiling!” I explain that really I don’t care. Bastard Roland and bloody chemo. A clean pair of underclarts ruined in one foul swoop. Thursday and I have got to go and have a slit lamp test to look at my retinas because of diabetes complications. I have a cataract in my left eye – the cataract in my right eye was removed last year. I asked Antony to take me as you are literally quite blind for about an hour after the test and can’t drive. Arriving at the desk I gave my name to the receptionist. The usual blank look followed. Mention the name Wilkie and everyone in the NHS seems to just glaze over. Well not just the NHS. She starts tapping her computer keyboard and then asks my date of birth. Success! I am in the right place after all. The computer has not said “No! (cough). Another receptionists comes up and asks Antony if we are together. Antony replies that we are but “not like that.” The two receptionists collapse in a fit of giggles. Why can’t people take life seriously? The waiting room is uncharacteristically quiet. If you have a morning appointment the place is packed with about twenty consulting rooms working. This afternoon there are seven technicians testing and the place is like a morgue. Or it was until we arrived! The slit lamp examination is relatively straightforward. A pre examination takes place then some drops to dilate the pupils. A twenty minute wait and then back in where they shine a bright light in both eyes. I am put on the list for the cataract in my left eye but will I be able to have it done whilst on chemo and radiotherapy? The right eye is showing some leakage so I am being referred to an eye consultant. The eye exams are difficult because you can’t drive for at least an hour afterwards. As I am walking ( and I use the term loosely) back to the car Antony takes great delight in shouting “over here” much to his own amusement and passers by! A workman walks by holding some piping and I tell Antony that I didn’t know they had pole vaulters in the hospital. Another chaotic day out! Friday 27th March and the chemo is messing me about today with a vengeance. I don’t know if it’s psychological but it always seems to hit me on Fridays a week after I start a new course. I have sorted out my clacker with the anti diahorrea pills and now I think I might be constipated but this morning I feel terribly nauseas and the anti sickness pills have not helped. I am still up virtually every hour on the hour through the night. Why? I have drunk four pints of green tea and been to the toilet once this morning. I don’t drink anything after about six o’clock unless I got out yet it makes no difference to my night sorties. The other strange thing is my tastes have changed. I know they say that chemo can affect your taste buds but I had an unbelievable craving for a milky coffee yesterday and I normally can’t stand coffee. I have already reported my craving for chocolate – something I can normally take or leave. I just hope that is all that the chemo will do. I don’t think Irene could cope with a personality change even though she does call me a chemo-brained twat!