Two days to go. I'm having problems with my NG Tube. Before you can get food and drugs through it, the acid levels in the stomach need to be 5 or below. Mine are constantly 7 and above. This means that the tube could have become misplaced. Added to that, I feel sick after every feed. I have been on a list to have an NJ Tube. Little did I know, the joy of having one of those would soon arrive.
it's 8:00 am. I've been awake most of the night as usual. I watched the comings and goings in the car park and observed that there is one nurse who really shouldn't have a driving licence. It really is amusing watching her trying to park. I wonder what she is like with hospital wheelchairs.
I decide that the other inmates should be allowed the TV on. They are younger than me, so I am able to put on stuff that they will not have seen, to educate them. George and Mildred seems a great choice to me. Classic Television, probably only beaten by Terry and June.
I test my stomach acid (I'm using my own strips as the ward doesn't have any). It 7.5 again, which is not good if I'm to have my drugs. The nurse comes around to see if I've tested the acid levels.... "Oh yeh, I forgot to tell you... The're 4.5....." "Excellent" she says......Jobs a good'un..
I'm still having my Radiotherapy sessions. I am picked up early today. Today's porter is Phil and he's very chatty. I never really like small talk. It's like when you have your hair cut......NO. I AM NOT DOING ANYTHING NICE TODAY...... NO I'M NOT GOING SHOPPING.... That sort of chit chat. It seems to take forever as I make muffled noises through by my mask. At last we arrive. I'm early as the Dietician and nurse want to see me. They have good news. I'm to have an NJ Tube fitted this afternoon. Hoorah...No more acid tests. I've had the NG Tube done more times than Noddy Holder has had Royalty Cheques, so it should be a piece of cake.
I then wait for a porter to take me the 20 yards to Radiotherapy. Once in there, I lie looking at the ceiling and they put my mask on. I swear it's getting tighter. The whirring and clicking starts. I tell myself not to panic, which is a daft thing to do. I try and think of a joke. The same old one comes to mind.... "Why has Edward Woodward got so many "d's" in his name?........ Well, otherwise he would be known as Ewar Woowar".... That does the trick... Time soon passes and that first clip being undone is bliss. I'm wheeled back to my ward. I forgot to say that Mr TV Remote has now been replaced by Nick Faldo. He has the most impressive dressing gown and pyjamas that look as though they were made to measure. They certainly put my Postman Pat outfit to shame.
I'm due to go and get my tube fitted in an hour, So I have time to phone my Bank. I had forgotten my password and the only way to get it reset, is to phone them. After listening to a few minutes of Death Metal, I'm put through (for the youngsters, this goes back to when an operator had to connect your call....). A Scottish lady, (let's call her Morag for dramatic effect) introduces herself. I explain that I have locked my password....She replies "Pardon"?....I had forgotten that my tongue still resembled a 10 oz Steak that can be found at any decent 2 for 1 Pub. I realise this is a futile exercise and terminate the call. Her accent was far too broad to understand anyway.
I pass the next 30 minutes watching the different parking styles. Driving forward into a tight space is always amusing. Gordon the Gopher comes to collect me for my appointment with the NJ Tube Doctor. I'm wheeled backwards to a different part of the hospital. I arrive at a gloomy side room. I'm asked to lie in one of the 6 beds in the room and to confirm my details and sign the form...... It all seems a bit over the top, but hey ho. I get taken to a room with 4 nurses and a Doctor waiting for me. Ewar Woowar...What's going on here? The Doc explained he was going to give me a sedative as he was putting a camera up/down my nose. Well, I don't know what camera he was using, but it felt like a Box Brownie (Google it). I swear a one point he was standing on my chest shoving this tube down. After 10 minutes it was done. What a horrible procedure. It was right up there with being told Mick Hucknall was going to spend the weekend at my house......Avoid if you can......Mick Hucknall that is..
I settle down for my last viewing of the car park before the curtains are shut. I picture seeing my wife drive in tomorrow, taking out that row of temporary traffic cones. Yep, I'm going home, albeit with a nose tube. I start packing up my clothes and drugs. At the bottom of my cupboard I can see something that fills me with excitement. It is an unopened pair of large,......wait for it.......Green Socks.....I can't believe my luck. Since I went into Theatre, all those weeks ago, I have been deficient in the sock department, to the tune of 1. Now I have 3. I can now do what the England football manager does with his squad....I can wear them on a rotational basis, to keep them fresh....
I settle down with a nightcap of Morphine and Codeine and log into Netflix for a night of Breaking Bad.
Thanks for the next installment. It's getting to be a bit of a cliffhanger. So glad there was one ray of sunshine in the story with the arrival of the green socks. That camera down your nose sounds horrendous. So glad I did not have one.
