More of the same.......

Well, it's the day off my fitting. The last time I had a fitting I was 18, getting a suit from Burtons, for my first job at a Bank since leaving school. I'm more nervous this time though, but I try to reassure myself that at least I'm not driving a Morris Marina Coupé. I park at the Cancer Unit. After all the surgery and appointments, this is the first time I have been here. I have always been in the main hospital building, So I just felt like a patient having an operation. This was different. I go in, mask on, hands gelled. I hand over the form to the receptionist. She asks me for my date of birth. Now, I'm still struggling to speak. I speak into my mask and of course she says "pardon". I write it down. I feel I'm no further forward than when I left hospital.

I'm told to take a seat in the large waiting room. As I wait, I spot a bell that people ring when they finish treatment. This seems odd, as it just for finishing treatment, not an all clear. I never do hear anyone bother with it. I'm called into an incredibly dim depressing room. Not dark, but like it has not been painted for 20 years. I take a seat as Colin take me through what's going to happen to me over the course of treatment. I've been told at least 3 times that I will get mouth ulcers, my neck will get severe sunburn symptoms. I will lose some hair etc. I really don't need to hear this again. I didn't listen the first two times, I'm not going to start now.  

He explains that he is going to put some plastic into a machine that makes it hot. This is then placed over my head and shoulders. He will then mould it around my features (Cue Brian Rix). So I lie on this couch whilst this horrible thing is out over my face. I hate it and will continue to hate it for 30 weeks. For anyone who has yet to go through this, don't worry. It's not that bad, but I can get claustrophobic and that's how this made me feel. 

After this is all done, I'm told I have to see the nurse and dietician. This cheers me up, as we always have a giggle, although I'm worried the dietician is going to show me cctv footage of me not eating my meals on the ward. There's nothing to worry about. We have a chat, partly written, partly spoken and partly incomprehensible. The nurse asks me if I've been told about what effects the radiotherapy will have on me. No, I think that's been overlooked...Yes, yes and yes, I write angrily. The dietician tells me that they want to put a feeding tube in after a few sessions, as eating will become a problem for me. This day just gets better and better. I had one after my operation. Because I was so swollen, they couldn't get it down my throat. I felt like I was drowning. I saw my heart rate hit 170. I really though this is it. Eventually, another doctor tried and all was well. So, this was something I could look forward to. They both assure me that all would be this time. 

That can tube was to cause me more problems than either the operation or Radiotherapy, that I may have to write a book about it. This will obviously be of interest to film makers. If J K Rowling can make a fortune from a book about Roy Wood from Wizard, I'm sure "The Adventures of my NJ Tube", has a chance.

Again I hit the road. I'm probably at my lowest point now. The operation and recovery seemed a doddle. This part is just depressing. The Radiotherapy unit is cold and unwelcoming, the treatment doesn't sound nice and I've got a feeding tube to look forward to. I don't drink and now I can't smoke to relieve the stress, there's only one option left.. So I arrive at Home Bargains. What amount of garden produce can I get for £20. I arrive home and unpack the 5 boxes of grass seed and a stainless steel toilet brush. My wife asks how's it went and I reply with my usual "fine". 

All.of this was taking place during the Covid outbreak, so I attend all these appointments on my own. I actually don't mind that. Why should my wife worry about things that she doesn't need to. This lets me play down the whole day...." Yeh, it was fine. I wear some sort of mask and it is over In 15 mins" She accepts this, even though she has already researched it and knows more about it than I do.   Although divorce proceedings may be started if she asks if I know all about the side effects.

In between all of this I go for my wounds to be checked on my arm and leg. They have healed up really well. The Consultant comes in, has a look and says that I can be discharged from the clinic. Really, I say.. What am I going to do now. This was my only hobby at the time and. I had made some good friends. I promised to send pictures of my leg in for old times sake.

I drive home. Radio 2 is on for some reason...Then it's sheer panic time. Without warning, Fairground by Simply Red comes on. I hate this song so much, it even pushes Lady in Red into second place. The controls on the steering wheel do nothing except send the wipers into a frenzy. I  smash the "Off" button......and relax.. I leave it off until I get home, just in case it's Simply Red Hour.

I get in, and back to safety. I check with my wife that Mick Hucknall hasn't died, just so I know it's safe to turn on the news. Remember when Aretha Franklin died, that song Respect was even being played on the Shipping Forecast. Aargh.

..

What's for tea? Oh yeh, Ice cream, chocolate sprinkles and custard.