Post 228: Struggling to be me.
I could hear fear in my Darling’s voice this afternoon, and I knew I could help her get back to herself after tiredness and worry had taken her far away.
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This meeting on Thursday is the big one. It’s always the big one — the biggest one yet. The one that gives us the info. The big meeting to break us if we’re not careful.
Why is it always the same? Two days before and hope gets knocked sideways by worry and confusion. Hope is the one thing needed to get through the meeting with some kind of success.
———
I’ve been emailing my oncology team and getting madder by the minute this afternoon. Hearing my Darling’s voice has put into perspective the anger I have for the stupid system of communication I’m facing lately. So I relax a bit and cool off.
The question I posed to the team was more an update two days before the meeting, so that the meeting could include this and give them a bit of time to give me a decent answer.
My right side has been aching since the radiotherapy on the left ribs. It’s hard to sleep, and as you’ve probably noticed in my writing lately, I’m tired and not at all the complete man I should be — allowing for the hormone therapy that took 99.99% of my manliness already, of course.
So my question was aimed towards the team giving a response in 24/48 hours. So when a reply pinged into my inbox, I was very surprised. It went like this…
“Thanks for your email.
This was passed on to our Physician Assistant for review.
She has advised that unfortunately it is not possible for the team to see or assess you before your appointment on Thursday.
If you are feeling more breathless then your right — if you feel very out of breath then you should attend A&E for acute assessment, this would be the pathway.
After the radiotherapy, it is normal to get a flare of symptoms for about a week or 2 after, which then should settle down.”
As my day was mainly sleep followed by eating then sleeping again, this reply made I larf. Made I larf hard.
The dozy Physician Assistant, who kindly accepted my question about the pain on my right after the radiotherapy on the left ribs, suggests that my pain is caused by a flare-up — which is quite common, as I’ve been told many times that it’s one of the main side effects.
But as the radiotherapy was on the left and my new pain on the right, one wonders just how this flare-up could possibly be the cause since it’s on the other side. Ho Ho Ho!
I replied and pointed out that although the reply was kind and quick, could I mention the pain being on the other side to the radiotherapy.
KR, Mr U.
The following reply capped it all, and I gave up bothering to ask for any more help…
I decided that asking for an explanation of what the second reply was all about would be futile and maddening to the Assistant, and therefore not profitable for either of us.
So I’ll stay confused and I’ll ask on Thursday, directly.
What a waste of time, and what should have been an anxiety drop was an anxiety rise. Sometimes I wish I’d never bothered to ask.
———
As for the disquiet in my Darling’s voice, I immediately knew what to do, and that was to offer to take her out for an evening meal — wherever she liked, and when she preferred.
That did the trick.
Not only did that get me out of bed and changed ready to go out, but it totally calmed my Darling and some of her worries.
We went to the most ancient pub locally and enjoyed a wonderful repast.
And although the conversation was about the up-and-coming meeting, it was not I who brought it up, and the discussion was really a good way of going over some thorny ground that was necessary to travel across sometime soon.
We returned home with full bellies and comfortable smiles and watched TV holding hands until our eyelids couldn’t stay up anymore.
“Time for bed,” said Zebedee.
Good night all.
