Post 66: Quietly, the Week Ends.
Not much happened today.
Friday was… okay, I suppose — if you don’t count the two-hour episode of AFib that crept in mid-afternoon, just as Big Sis left for home.
It’s my sisters birthday this week, so we had our traditional lunch together. She brought everything, as usual — including some treats for me — and left with a little gift bag for Tuesday from us. We swapped news and I shared my now-familiar list of weekly ups and downs, delivered with my usual dose of melodramatic self-pity.
While she was here, My Darling took a rare break to head into town for the Friday café meetup with her friends. She left with a warning glare and a very clear message:
“Behave — or else — until your sister gets here.”
It was only a 15-minute wait for me but a relaxing lunchtime break for her, but it felt like a big step — a little window of freedom, and a reminder that she really does need space that’s hers, too. She’s been tethered to me every day lately, and I’m glad she got a sliver of normal social time.
Meanwhile, I quietly noted the ectopics starting again.
I held my breath — emotionally, if not physically — hoping the palpitations would pass. They stuck around for a couple of hours, and by the time I stood up to see Sis out, I was dizzy and drained. But there’s no need to panic.
No “pill-in-pocket” solution anymore — not while I’m on Sotalol. But luckily, this morning’s medication review at CCU went smoothly.
Despite roadworks, diversions, and traffic jams on every road, we made it to the hospital safely. This was an unscheduled drop-in, but I was seen so quickly it felt like I was a VIP.
Dr E, the registrar who’d said he’d review me personally, was — and he was, as always, a reassuring sight. He checked me over, checked the ECG’s, asked all the right questions, and doubled my dose of Sotalol as hoped.
So when the AFib hit that afternoon, I gritted my teeth and rode it out. No A&E this time.
I need chemo to go ahead in 7 days. My body can’t afford another delay.
After two hours, it slipped away as stealthily as it had come.
No hospital admission. No formal record.
Just between me, My Darling… and now you.
———
One hiccup remained — my prescription.
I only had enough pills left to last till Monday, and no way to chase anything over the weekend closure.
Dr E had said the new dosage had been sent to my GP, but it hadn’t shown up in the system yet. After a frustrating loop of phone calls that led nowhere, My Darling drove me down to the GP surgery just before closing time. The receptionist tried her best but couldn’t access the discharge paperwork.
So back My Darling went, home to collect the hard copy, while I held my head in the waiting room feeling broken but positive about doing all I could to expedite the prescription.
She dashed back in with the proof, and the prescription was queued for approval.
“It’ll be ready tomorrow and sent directly to the pharmacy.”
Crisis averted. Panic over. Just.
———
So yes, that’s my life these days.
Endless medical mayhem.
I’ve turned into my late parents — every conversation seems to orbit around tablets, tests, or traffic on the way to appointments.
If there were a club for “boring patients,” I’d be the honorary chair. Mr U: king of the mundane.
———
But to end on a lighter note — how did we unwind from the week?
We curled up on the big blue sofa and watched GPs: Behind Closed Doors for hours on our absurdly oversized TV.
Yes. A medical documentary.
About general practice.
For fun?
We’re totally and completely bonkers.
But it made us feel slightly better.
———
The new dose must do the trick.
Chemo must happen Friday.
The cancer needs slowing down, and I need speeding up.
———
And I need to find a way to show My Darling how much I love and value her.
I really, truly don’t know what I’d do without her. She deserves more than this chaotic version of me.
Here’s to a better week ahead.
Take care, and thank you for reading.
—
7 days. Let’s go.
