The Demise of Roland Ratso - Chapter two

The journey home was uneventful until I reached Morrisons roundabout and I just had to go in their toilets. As I went to lower myself on the pan it all came away again and I emulsioned the back of my trousers with barium, the back of the pan and most of the floor. I cleaned myself up, and the toilet as best as possible and then made the best of a bad job walking out of the store with everyone thinking I must have been the most incompetent decorator in the world with white emulsion all down the back of my britches! Whilst waiting for the MRI scan I was sat in the corridor in a hospital gown when an old lady and her daughter sat next to me. She asked me if I was looking at her because she hadn’t got a bra on. I said that I wasn’t. She then told me that she still had her knickers on and did I have my underpants on. I replied that I had, and “you better had!” she retorted. I then had an appointment with my consultant who told me that I would be undertaking chemotherapy and radiotherapy. Again I had to get on the couch for his assistant to engage with my derriere. Then onwards to the City hospital oncology department. The oncology outpatients at City hospital is very busy. I sat next to a family, a little old man, his daughter, granddaughter and two very young great granddaughters. The nurse came up and said that she was sorry to hear about his bad news and they were getting him a bed ready on Burma ward. “Burma” he said, “I ain’t going to Burma.” The whole family were extremely upset. I feel that the whole situation should have been handled in private. Opposite was another family. They had sandwiches and a flask and they had either come a long way or decided to come for a picnic. The whole situation was rather surreal. The first course of chemo started on the 10th January and finished on the 24th. The consultant was very pleased that I had very few side effects apart from my face feeling like I had been out in strong wind and sun. I have never had any luck with electric razors – some of my beard is too strong – so I have grown another – mostly grey and a lot slower growing than it used to be. Meanwhile, I went to the radiotherapy suite to get set up for radiotherapy. I got my hips and bum tattooed with markers so they can line the machine up every time and there I was stuck on a table with my bare arse stuck up in the air with a target placed between my cheeks. The radiotherapy starts on Monday 2nd February and takes around fifteen minutes - ten minutes to line me up (another violation of my derriere no doubt - although I am getting used to - getting used to I said - not liking it!) and then five ten second bursts from the LINAC. Roland Ratso look out! You are going to start cooking boy! Last Wednesday I went for a blood test and I had to go to the main blood taking centre. I duly rolled up and took my numbered ticket and sat next to the ticket machine. You have to wait for your number to appear on the screen. A little old black man turned up and started pulling all of the tickets out of the machine. I told him he only needed one. Then he opened the machine to put all of the others back and the whole roll fell onto the floor and travelled a fair distance unravelling as it went. I picked it up and started rolling it up when a phlebotomist came out and gave me a right bollocking for messing with it! The Wilkie curse strikes again! I told her that it was my little mate but she was not convinced. I then got called back for another blood test and this time there was a very young Asian lad who was blind. He asked me if I would tell him when his number came up and I asked him if he wanted showing where the door was. He replied that he didn’t because he had been there before. He then told me that he was twelve and blind from birth and I said didn’t he have anyone with him and he said that he didn’t have anyone. A sad indictment that in two days there were two people who obviously needed assistance but didn’t have anyone. So I was back to the consultant on the 30th - appointment at 1415 and got in to see him at 1515. He was very pleased with my progress and said that I was now going on chemo without a break along with the radiotherapy. Sort of time on for good behaviour! Another hour waiting for the pharmacist to give me my prescription followed by another hour to get my wheelbarrow load of drugs. True there is a lot of waiting about and maybe they could organise it a bit better but I think it is a small price to pay. There were two women in the pharmacy waiting for their chemo - both had breast cancer and were sitting in front of me not realising I was behind them. One said that she hated the drugs and they made her ill and the other replied that she was getting on very well and she even let her old man “have a bit” and it was lovely. The other one replied that all her pubic hair had fallen out and that she couldn’t get him to touch it let alone do anything else! He won’t ride bareback she exclaimed and they both collapsed in a fit of giggles. Bit different to another moaning old git who complained that the radiotherapy schedule was going to interfere with his fishing. How bloody inconvenient I thought. They are only trying to save your life after all, nothing important. Coming out of the hospital I saw Joan and Barrie. Joan’s first husband died from cancer of the jaw and now Barrie was in a wheelchair totally wasted. She said they had been on the ward all day and now they could go home. Very sad. More tomorrow