Wednesday 18th March and I am back in the saddle. Off for a blood test and am going to tell them about my derriere even though I have got the consultant on Friday. I take the ring road, the sun is shining, the sunroof is open and even though there is a chill in the air it’s a great to be alive day (aren’t they all? – except some are better than others.)
At the oncology department it is strangely quiet with only a couple of inmates. I take a number and sit down to wait. The door of the blood letting room is open but I see no-one. Then I see a flash of blue. The phlebotomist is in there so I knock and the door and ask if she is waiting for clients. She is and I have soon given my three phials of bodily fluids.
She asked after my health and then said that she had seen me on the ward as a proper inmate. I tell her the tale of my abscess and how the doctor lost my blood samples so I had to stay in a lot longer than necessary. She asks if the doctor wrote my name on the labels and I say that he didn’t. She said “they are always doing and all the lab does is bin them because they have no chance of finding out who’s they are” Mental note: Always check they are writing on everything!
Then back downstairs to the radiotherapy department. Lurch comes striding out of the entrance pushing an old lady in a wheelchair at about a hundred miles an hour! nearly knocking me over. Nice to see the old lad in useful employment.
I tell the receptionist that I need to see a doctor or a radiographer or nurse. Nicola, the Lassie from Kircaldy comes out and we go into a consulting room for a .......er consultation. She gives me five little trumpets of gel and warns me about the understains. “It travels well” she says “and will mark your trousers” so the advice was use some pads. Sort of understains and overstains!
The old lad who had stuck his thumbs up when I told him that he would get moved around by some young ladies and whose wife said that he wouldn’t like it was in the waiting room and he looked terrible. He said his radio had gone wrong and he had a massive urine infection but they were sorting him out. Truly sorry. I wish him well and depart for the medilink bus which is jam packed and no-one seems to want to get off. Two of us get on and I get one cheek on the edge of a seat. Agony – but then everyone gets off at maternity. It must be the afternoon shift going visiting. Lots of ooohs and aaahhhs I imagine.
It reminds me of when I took the tribe in to see Irene when she had Jonathan who was delivered by emergency caeserian which left her with a big infection and she was unwell for sometime. Tim walked in front and I stopped at the nurses station. “Going to see my new brother,” Tim says quite matter of fact. We arrive at the bed and all of the beds had immaculate white bedspreads. Not after my lot had left! I gave them a tube of smarties each and they managed to make the bedspread multicoloured, Irene was disgusted with me! Well it kept them quiet. All three of them!
Back home and I show Irene my trumpets and stick one in my ear like an ear trumpet. She is not impressed. “Might as well stick ‘em up my arse “ I respond. So now it’s off to the bathroom to have a go with the trumpet.
The relief was incredible. It’s my fault for suffering so long but I seriously do counsel anyone in that situation to get help. I have actually had a poo without nearly passing out.
Back to the PFI tomorrow for an MRI and CT scan.
