The demise of Roland Ratso: Chapter three

I am now going to clinic 2 of the radiotherapy clinic in City hospital. I now travel to Wilkinson Street park and ride and get the medilink bus which takes ten minutes to get there and fifteen to get back because it travels the hospital campus which is free and much better than trying my luck parking in the City hospital shambles of a parking system with their lunatic parking attendant. The first day I went there I found a parking space and was gathering my papers when another car pulled alongside so closely that I had no chance of getting out. I tooted and gesticulated but he just got out and walked away. I then drove over a curb not realising that there was a sleeper behind it which I dragged halfway across the car park, cracking the fuel line in the process. My second appointment for radiotherapy where they do the simulator and programme the computer I was accompanied by my son, Tim. The car park was coned off into blind ends and there was a maniac on the gate ushering everyone in. At one time there were five of us all trying to do three point turns. All in all he had to do three three point turns in his little Peugot. Tim was not very pleased with the inmates in the waiting room. I know we all have a possible death sentence waiting but they could at least be a little bit cheery and Tim’s constant bonhomie did grate on some people. I must admit that I have not come across the legendary camaraderie of cancer patients yet. I know that it is distressing and the reason so may die of bowel cancer is because of the supposed “shame and ignorance” where people do not want to be invaded so privately. But then again it might be me that is the miserable old git. I had a very good friend die of prostrate cancer because he would not have anyone stick their fingers up his backside and when he did allow them it was too late. Not very pleasant – but get on with it is what I say. The alternative is unthinkable. A voice called my name but I couldn’t see who it was because of the pillars in waiting room – that’s the second time that has happened – I thought it was the angels calling me! The appointment was for the simulator which is where they line everything up with the tattoo marks and make sure the LINAC can reach everywhere the doctor has requested. Then back to the waiting room. Tim wound me up again about the Bouncing Bomb – a bit of a family joke is me and the Bouncing Bomb. Another voice calls Mr. Wilkie. “Thankyou, thankyou” says Tim, “for saving me from the Bouncing Bomb!!!!!!!!!” and there I am left with having to go into the consulting room with a great big grin on my face and a doctor and nurse wondering if they are dealing with an absolute imbecile. Not the first time he has done that to me. Monday 2nd February saw me in treatment two waiting room. I placed my card in the clear plastic box on the wall and waited. A very pleasant young radiographer with a very sexy husky voice took me into a consulting room and explained what was going to happen. All very cosy. I then went back to waiting area and waited, and waited and waited. My records hadn’t come back from wherever they were being kept. She was very sorry for the delay. I told her not to worry – it always happened to me – it took me four years to get a passport! The waiting area was relatively quiet. Another little old man in pyjamas and dressing gown was wheeled in with an oxygen mask on by a porter who was well over six feet with feet to match and a shock of unkempt white hair looking rather like Lurch from the Adams family. The little old man ran out of oxygen and Lurch wheeled in the biggest bottle he could find – his original small bottle having been fixed to his chair. I thought to myself you are in for a long wait – and he was. After about an hour a large man walked in and shouted at me (or he had a very loud voice!) where the box was to put his card, pointing to a black box on the wall. I told him that was the rubbish bin and the clear plastic one on the wall was the one he wanted. He continued bellowing and then crossed the line that prohibits patients from entering the controlled area, finally depositing his card where it should go. I know where I would like to put it! Then his wife turned up. She read his advice pamphlet out loud emphasising the side effects and telling him that she would be checking his every movement. Literally. Including the one on the lavatory. Then his mate turned up. With an even louder voice and the most forced and annoying chuckle I have every heard. The wife said that she couldn’t bring him the next day as his appointment was while she was at work at seventeen o’clock. SEVENTEEN O’Clock the friend roared and kept repeating. I would like to have shoved the clock where his sun don’t shine. Then he started on about a radio presenter who had said “Thud and Blunder” instead of Blood and Thunder. He must have said it at least ten times while wifey interspersed his maniacal laughing by reading all of the side effects of the treatment again. Poor bastard. At least I now didn’t have to read mine - having heard it twice already. Today, Tuesday and I am in the waiting room again. “Welcome to death row” the jolly old feller next to me said, “haven’t seen you here before.” Oh joy of joys! What a cheery soul. Another patient asked when he was due to see the consultant for his weekly review.. “Waste of time” said the cheery man, “don’t like him – ignorant. And all doom and gloom. Hope I don’t have to see him again.” And he thought the consultant was doom and gloom???????????? Waiting room ordeal aside the treatment isn’t too bad. Just the inmates you have to sit with. Treatment starts with the usual britches down and lay face down on a moveable table with your bare arse in the air. All I need is an apple in my mouth! There then follows a discussion about where to set my derriere along with the tender ministrations by the radiographers. “Don’t you move” she says, “I will move you.” Once in place a series of co-ordinates are read out and checked; the light is turned back on and they withdraw. A bleeper sounds followed by the noise of the linear accelerator, Roland is being fried. The team then returns – from where I do not know. There are a lot of footsteps but I can’t see where they go. Another co-ordinate check and the process is repeated. Ten minutes today from start to finish. Some more tomorrow.....................