That lesser known Crowded House song.
Today has been a bit of a long day. I've seen the radiology band (there were 5 of them), the oncologist and the GP.
The GP was seen last and honestly I want harm to come to one of us after my most recent chat with him. How does a man who claims to be so caring get off with being such a condescending moron?! I probably need to explain a little but essentially he's been seeing me regularly for over a year because left unmedicated I'm a little unpredictable. Nothing earth shattering but I've gone through a year of CBT to go with it and actually as long as I remember to take my prescribed potions I'm normally pretty chilled out and a fully functioning human bean, of the pink variety.
Unfortunately, having been seen for 'mental health' reasons, my GP now seems to think I'm clearly just over egging the cancer malarky. I want to kick him in the face frankly. The CPN I'd been seeing had a word with him last week because the last time I saw him to explain that I'd been averaging 3-4 hours of sleep a night for a couple of months and was finding it had impaired my cognitive function enough that I couldn't even hold a coherent conversation for large parts of the day and he'd told me I'd get over it now he'd seen my CT scan. So I was hoping this visit would be more helpful. It seriously wasn't.
I went in and enquired about the conversation he'd had with Claire (CPN); he made a comment about her being a nurse and not qualified to offer medication. Well who's up their own butthole Dr?! He asked me if radiotherapy was over and done with now (he surely knows it's not since they send him copies of the letters too) and I explained today was the first session. He asked how many more I was having. I told him I was having 12. He asked if that was just one a week. I explained that it was one a day because they wanted to keep it dormant for as long as possible. He raised an eyebrow and made a comment that was something along the lines of them overdoing it. Sorry dear, if my oncologist, radiologist and haematologist are all in agreement, why would I listen to you, a man who didn't even know what I had when the report came back and didn't even have the common sense to Google it! Stupid condescending man!
Anyway, I explained that I was just exhausted but in good spirits apart from feeling ground down by how tired I am. He told me that I should try to sleep more. I explained that obviously I was doing this. He then told me that the trouble with me is that given my 'mental health history' I was of the belief that worrying was a good thing and it would help fix the problem so I just needed to focus on the fact that the only person making me ill was myself and learn to adjust to the new path my life was taking. Excuse you?! I'm not of the belief that worrying fixes anything. I am doing everything I possibly can to stop worrying which is entirely why it's slipping out in my dreams and why I was trying to seek assistance rather than just allow myself to slip into a hole of self pity and doom. His solution? Use the dreams to write a book and 'ride the wave' because surely in a couple more months I would feel better. A couple of months? Do you think he'd want 8 more weeks of nightmares, little sleep and nonsensical panic? It's not that I'm not entirely aware that I am the one worrying myself but I think that's probably relatively normal. I'm not announcing the end of the world is coming or that I'm about to die, I'm merely saying I am a bit worried about the future of this new diagnosis and I'm really tired because I'm constantly back and forth seeing various medical professionals.
I told him what they'd said about my neck earlier (I need to see the oncologist next week because she thinks it might well be a virus or something like that given that it has spread to both sides of my throat in 48 hours and I feel like a bus has hit me, despite the lack of a sore throat or a temperature). My GP on the other hand told me I probably was suffering from anxiety and it was in my head. I agreed that it was entirely possible that it was that and I'd more than welcome that news but apparently he didn't feel the need to do anymore.
The GP then decided to sign me off work for 4 weeks, after I explained I was struggling despite the fact I said I would like to stay at work, but they're worried about me because I wasn't sleeping. He told me I needed to take a break and take the time off, then followed this up with telling me that really I should be trying to stay at work because the routine would help me and he was worried that if I took time off I'd have more time to imagine symptoms. Excuse me? I explained that if I was sleeping I'd happily be at work; I hate being off. He just smiled and told me to give it two months. In two months I probably will be on a much more stable footing but that still means I'll have been knackered for 5 months. Is there seriously any need?!
I'm a bit cross with him. I hide it well though don't I!
Ahem, so that's the not so great part out of the way, the cancer side of things really is fine.
I had my first appointment for radiotherapy and after 5 people faffed around me with for over half an hour and conferred, compared me to my crime scene photo, turned lights on and off, propped bits up and strapped bits down and told me I had no choice but to listen to Ed Sheeran for the duration, the radiotherapy itself was nothing to concern myself with at all. In fact the consultation first was far more distressing with the lovely descriptions again about lymphoma - the liquid disease! Oooh yeah, I'm sexy and I know it!!
I showed them my neck and whilst my GP thinks my neck is in my mind, having not even felt it, the oncologist was of the opinion that there was indeed swelling but given how strung out I am, it's far more likely to be a virus since I'm not really 100%. I agreed and said I thought it was more than likely the case but it had still crossed my mind more than once and therefore had been worth asking about. I'm going to see her again next Wednesday and if it's no better then she'll think about getting it scanned.
It's been quite the busy day thanks to all the hospital/doctor visits.
I got flowers and some cards today from friends/family, honestly anyone would think I was ill! It was a really lovely thought. Other than that I've cuddled up with the cats and watching things on the TV that don't really take any concentration because I'm determined to get some sleeping in here somewhere! The cats might not agree with sleeping during the night but they're certainly fans of sleeping during the day so I suppose I ought to make the most of it.
Currently, I'm just really looking forward to Hairy getting home for a big hug and some reminding that I'm not as crazy as that stupid GP is making out. If I were, I'd hardly be holding down a good job and be in a long term relationship with a mortgage (I'm in a relationship with Hairy though, not the mortgage). The way he goes on anyone would think I was at risk of running through the streets of the north with my knickers on my head, screaming 'HE'S COMING. THE BUDGIE KING WANTS TO EAT US ALL. HIIIIIIDE'.
For the record, I've never done that.
