Post 332: One Call Too Many.
I’ve made a decision to get someone to look at my bed mattress.
Since the holiday I’ve struggled with pain across my middle and lower back and my bum. Sitting is painful, and it’s now with me nearly all the time. I’ve slowed up on the walking too.
All together, I’m worried.
The first call came at 8:15.
An apologetic voice explained that Adult Social Care (who supplied the bed) aren’t responsible for testing or replacing the mattress. I’d need to go through my GP and a district nurse.
I ended the call slightly confused.
So I turned to the Anima GP triage system, the usual route.
I selected “medical” and explained clearly that my sleep was being affected by the bed and I needed someone to assess it.
The system, as always, was long but efficient.
The result?
“Please go to a pharmacist for some over-the-counter medication.”
Wow.
I actually laughed.
“I won’t be beaten,” I thought.
So I rang the surgery.
“You are 9th in the queue… press 9 for a callback…”
Oh, bugger.
I pressed 9.
Call ended.
But that wasn’t enough for me.
I went back to Anima — this time choosing “administrative.”
I made it very clear:
I need a new mattress.
I typed it everywhere I could.
Sent.
Satisfied.
Back to my K-dramas, lying uncomfortably in bed.
⸻
A while later, another call.
From the surgery.
Brilliant, I thought.
“Name, date of birth…”
Then:
“How can we help you this morning?”
Ah.
This was the callback.
From earlier.
I’d completely forgotten.
“Erm… I’ve done an Anima now… I don’t need help anymore… sorry…”
Embarrassment complete.
⸻
Then another call.
Landline this time.
A solar panel company.
Something about mis-sold panels.
I tried to follow, but honestly couldn’t be bothered.
I let her down gently and ended the call.
Back to bed.
⸻
I tried a third pillow.
Anything to ease the aches.
Sunlight came through the window, warming my face as I lay down uncomfortably.
For a while, I actually felt comfortable.
I slept.
⸻
But underneath it all, something was becoming clearer:
I’m not getting better.
I’m getting worse.
I struggle to get in and out of bed now.
The pain is increasing.
And I don’t really know where the pain is coming from.
Will I manage the holiday in three days?
Will I cope for a full week?
Will I even manage Spain with our friends?
If, if, if.
⸻
My Darling appeared a couple of times, asking if I wanted food.
I didn’t.
I just stayed there, face in the sun — topping up my “Tenerife tan.”
⸻
Then the phone rang again.
I answered without moving.
“Hello?”
“It’s Nurse N.”
That got me upright.
This mattered.
She asked about the holiday.
Then got to the point.
“How are you? Any more pain?”
“Not really… just the bed aches…”
“Oh, I can help with that. I’ll refer you to the district nurse.”
Result.
Finally.
Then:
“There are two blood results we need to talk about…”
PSA: 738
ALP: 684
Both roughly doubled.
Even I know what that means.
Progression.
We mentioned Zoladex, which I’d asked about stopping last month, last meeting. But the Zoladex is here to stay.
We’ll still meet the oncologist on the 9th of April.
“Have a lovely holiday in Dorset,” she said.
And that was that.
⸻
I started that call half-asleep, with no real worries.
I ended it wide awake.
Everything had changed.
⸻
There aren’t many options left to discuss now.
None were offered on the call.
It’s likely down to:
• Radium 223
• Or Docetaxel (at reduced strength)
⸻
I had to go downstairs and tell my Darling.
We’ve had news like this before.
But this time felt different.
Quieter.
Heavier.
⸻
The rest of the day passed in a kind of silence.
No big conversations.
Just small touches.
Little smiles covering bigger fears.
Understanding without words.
⸻
I went to bed early.
Uncomfortably.
Mind full of questions I already know the answers to.
⸻
What a crappy day.
Good night.
