Post 298: Like a well oiled plan.
What could go wrong?
Well, now you come to mention it, loads, but I’m taking the side of the lucky guy and all is peachy-keen.
A quick chat with the hospice was all it was. Neither caller nor I were ready for a long protracted chat about the life and times of squirrel’s kneecaps so we parted amicably.
Darn-it I’ve forgotten again to email my counsellor with a preference to what comes next with my sessions — three that are not yet booked.
I’m not sure about waiting now, I might opt for the last three sessions with another counsellor. What the hell, eh?
Meanwhile, at the pit head, there were two patient receivers without a caller.
In the end a lunch was created, eaten, then rested on while nothing much else happened. So the TV remote was brought into action and while the lunch settled, our eyes soaked up the story of revenge with a second series: Taxi Driver 2. This was a delightfully funny, clever and entertaining story of a taxi empire that worked above ground legitimately but who underground had a very different and more spy-like basis of M.O. where this small band of misfit friends and colleagues charge around like a police force, doing their thing while the city sleeps in downtown Korea. Robin Hood-esque.
I had already noticed that there was a resolution from Anima for me. I checked it online and it all made sense. Firstly I would have a blood test that would precede the frozen shoulder appointment by ten minutes. The shoulder was not going to be the biggest problem for us as the blood test, once reported, would help ENT decide what my future was going to be for this holiday. They, the ENT experts, would have the deciding chapter to write about my holiday to Spain.
As it happened I rang the hospital front desk to get a line into the secretary pool and when done, I could then see if there were any updates.
But there were none (no updates today) and that was clearly because of the A&E discharge on Saturday still awaiting triage.
It’s not possible to have all the luck so I thanked the secretaries and bid them farewell, hoping to hear from them later this week that they’ve seen fit to discharge me.
I hope.
It’s now after four pm and the day is yawning but we are still following along closely with the taxi-driver’s stories that have not yet fully unfolded on the large TV, when there’s a ring—ring.
My Darling grabs the TV remote as I grab the landline phone.
Click…
“Hello”, “is it you I’m looking for?” (Ha ha only joking).
It was my favourite nurse from oncology just back from sick, and on a roll.
Our decision to pull a fast blood test to prove one way or another just what my pre-holiday situation is, has been a relative success…
All the bloods were good today, the CRP especially good at 100 down. Still high but at 109 way better than Saturday.
My PSA only rose only 41 to 444 in two and a half months so this is also a marker that says to me “relax”.
I am anaemic and still worsening so I’ll have an infusion asap (discussed with Dr S on Thursday). This will be on Friday, Saturday or Monday (whenever it can be arranged) and that might keep me awake more around the house/hotel.
Other than that, it’s a good result but not that interesting.
After the call dropped we both were visibly relaxed from the tension of the last few days. Without the nurse’s help and drive to get me answers we would be in the smelly brown stuff still but here we are with a clearer outlook and a clearer conscience with the honesty of the holiday insurance.
If I’ve got no new treatment plan from oncology considering all the evidence of the last week, I’m not at liberty to report anything unless ENT needs another piece of me. But if there’s no MRI check-ups then they’re not looking for anything.
Brilliant so far…
So, the pills and potions are doing a great job and having no chemo for the first time in 3 years is waking up my hair follicles around my legs and everywhere. I’m astonished and it’s another sign that I’m ok.
So let’s call this my new normal.
I’m still having one or two drams of oramorph at bedtime, but that’s completely fine. The rest of the day is one long pill-popping timetable but I’ve got used to that. The thing I now need to get used to is the more positive test results that were largely unexpected and very welcome.
So I’ll drink to that.
Mine’s a Laxido, cheers.
Good night
