Monday morning 9th March and I have got a meeting at 10.00 o’clock. Just got out of the front door and wham! My underclarts is full. A big dodd in my knickers! Bloody hell. I go back in and clean myself up. Now I am late. A clean pair wasted. Meeting completed and I come back for a good soak. One thing about pooing standing up is that it didn’t hurt at all but this time I am back on the pan. In agony. Before and after my bath. Another defiled derriere.
Today is the last but one session of this slice and I am promoted to LINAC 1. An elderly gentleman who I have seen many times comes in and says he doesn’t think he can have his treatment because he feels so ill. The radiographer says she will get a doctor.
I tell her about my problems and she makes a lot of sympathetic noises. All of the team are caring but today I have the red haired one and the softly spoken Scottish lassie from Kircaldy – I like them the best as they both seem to go the extra mile and seem to get me lined up the quickest. I think it’s Lloyd Webber musicals on the CD player with a load of Weber’s squawking tarts doing their stuff. Can’t bloody stand it. Bring back Take Twat – sorry Take That!
Irene had been very busy sorting out the understains, She has got all of my stuff washed and dried and ready for the next session. There is still a terrifying feeling about what my next movement is going to be. She has also made a batch of her special sausage rolls which could cause me a lot of problems – either from what they could do to me when they reach the end of my alimentary canal or what they could do to my weight loss programme. I haven’t been on my weighbridge since the curry night – two pounds on after that but I bet it is less now. My weighbridge measures a lot of things, muscle density, fat, water and even your weight but you have to stand on it with no shoes or socks or it goes into reject mode and won’t play. The amount I can find out about me is unbelievable. I just wish I could understand any of it.
