Another week, another Ward...

Here we go again. It's morning and it's a new ward, new nurses, new patients. I have a bed by the window. There is just one TV in the room, which will certainly lead me to not giving the ward five stars on Trip Advisor. I phone my wife and ask her if she could bring some clothes in for me. My holdall has a large strip on Codeine in it for emergencies.

I have the obligatory cannula in my wrist for the antibiotics. At least. I won't have to travel far for my Radiotherapy. At 10 am, I am visited by a Dietician. She wants to watch me drink some water....she must be really bored. I take a drink and then cough. It went down the wrong way. The official version is that my epiglottis not working properly, meaning the liquid is going into my lungs..hence the pneumonia. She apologises and writes Nil by Mouth on the whiteboard above my bed. I need another damn NG Tube.

So, another porter comes to collect me. It gets me out I suppose. I never like sitting backwards on a train and it's the same with hospital wheelchairs. Who designed these....and why were so many bought. There might be a logical reason...Answers on a postcard...

I get wheeled backwards to a room just off the cold looking Radiology Deoartnent. I see a familiar face. It's my nutritionist. I'm to have a new NG Tube. Amazingly, this one goes in without a problem.  Once again, my looks take a bashing...

I have been waffling on about NG and NJ Tubes, assuming people know what they are..An NG tube goes down the nose into the stomach. Feed with all the necessary nutrition and vitamins can then be attached....An NJ tube goes further down and resides in the middle part of the intestine, called the Jejunum. I know this information due to tireless research, not by cutting and pasting.

I'm taken back with a fetching tube now hanging from my nose. The good thing is, it is covered by my mask...Silver linings and all that.

It is lunch time....Not for me though. I have some Two Cal feed to look forward to. Yummy. But on the up side, I can people watch........

I sit in my chair by the window. It overlooks the car park where my wife usually drops me off for Radiotherapy. Some cheeky bugger has pinched her space on the Double Yellow Lines. I watch as husbands, wives, sons, daughters, mums, and dad's are dropped off to go for their treatment. So many more people than I ever imagined having Cancer. I wonder how they are feeling. Are they braver than me? Are they scared? Do they pretend they haven't really got "it"? Will  they be having Radiotherapy or Chemo? After an hour or so, people return to their waiting loved ones. Do they, like me just stare out of the window on the journey back, wishing they were a child again..? No responsibility, illness is a cold and Wolves has a decent football team? All of us so full of dreams as children, from all walks of life, have ended up here. 

I snap out of it. There's no point dwelling. In any case, I was never going to be Quo's Rythmn Guitarist.

I turn my attention to the ward.

Diagonally opposite me, next to the ward entrance is Mr T.V. Remote. He has the power over all of us. Thank God I have my tablet. I can watch my own choice of rubbish. Opposite is Keith Richards. He doesn't look great, but he never has. (I take extra precautions to keep my Codeine tablets safe). Finally to my left Is someone who looks like Barry from Auf Wiedersehen Pet. So it's a right bunch. My main focus must be not to get into a conversation with Barry.

But as luck would have it, a porter comes and stands at the end of my bed. We are to go early to Radiotherapy. I jump into the wheelchair...Now this porter has talent that most of us don't. He can push a hospital wheelchairs forwards without going into a spin. His cocky technique soon comes unstuck when it comes to doors. He cannot press the green button and push....A seasoned porter gives him a knowing, wry smile. I'm still kept away from the other patients. I originally thought  it was in case I had Covid, but apparently is because I am the one at risk. That was very nice of them. My name is called and I get wheeled in again..........

Now I don't know if you have ever seen the episode of One Foot in the Grave, where Victor wheels a neighbour around the Garden Centre? After they have nearly finished, the gent gets out of the wheelchair and starts walking. Victor says "What the Bloody He'll are you doing. Why have I been pushing you around for 2 hours. The gentleman replies.. " I did wonder that. I didn't like to say anything"............That's how I felt. Why are they pushing me? Oh well I musn't complain. Perhaps if I'm tired, they could push me around whilst I remain in the bed....

I digress. I'm On the Radiotherapy bed. I've been strapped in. It feels really tight again, but I'm going to get it done. So I'm in. The clunking and clicking starts. I'm very uncomfortable with that horrible mask on. Eventually, it stops and the white coats return... "I'm sorry, we didn't line you up correctly. We are going to have to do it again ".I've got nowhere to run. I'm stuck on a table at the mercy of others. Just have to get it done. Is this really the best way of treating a tumour in 2020?

After this ordeal, I hail a wheelchair. It's a different porter. He pulls the wheelchair. He's obviously "Old School" I return to the ward and it is very quiet. The batteries have run out in the TV Remote control, So every available resource is called upon to find replacements. The nurses on this Cancer ward are really nice. It makes such a difference to patients. If I needed pain relief , I usually received it. 

Mr Remote is now On the phone to his wife, seemingly asking for batteries. I phone home to see how things are there. Apparently, Rossi is missing me.....

It's lights out

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Its Morning and I have found out that I could be discharged in two days. Mr Remote is leaving today, has found some batteries, so he can watch Ready Steady Pants. He has to wait for the Chemist to send up his going home kit, so he makes a "Bee Line"  to me. What does he want? Has he found a green sock? No, he is handing me the remote. It was reminiscent of the Olympic Torch being handed over.

I really couldn't handle the pressure, so I pass it to "Barry". Unfortunately, I didn't realise his two hobbies were Cooking and Dancing...... Oh bugger

It's medicine time. I ask If I can have whatever "Keith" is taking. The nurse is not impressed with my humour, Soooooo I just asked for my Co-codamol. She went away to fetch them.

The nurse could not find the prescription I use, So I have the Morphine instead..Happy Days.

2 days to go. What could possibly go wrong?