The third chemo session went ok, just another day in the office really, though I will not lie it is always a sobering reality check spending the day on the chemo ward. Still it went fast enough and I got my peaches and ice cream that I was hankering for. The rest of the week carried on in much the same way, the usual hiccups, camera club on Thursday, and ending on a high in work on Friday as month end went well, promising a great weekend. I drove home in our sexy red sports car excited for the weekend…
And then it went wrong. I’d picked up a bug somewhere and next thing my world had shrunk to the confines of the bathroom as I was hit with D & V like I just could not have ever imagined. My dignity was stripped away in seconds and this went on all night and most of Saturday. I was shocked at how quickly I became as weak as a kitten, barely able to walk. By Tuesday with no improvement in sight, we went back to the chemo ward for a check over. I was in most of the day, mostly waiting around, but nothing seemed to be going right. First they checked my blood pressure. It was high, it took five readings before it looked anything like right. I blamed Chrissie’s short skirt, I stopped looking and it read right – but maybe they just did it properly – you figure. Next they went to take some blood samples. Guess what my PICC line would not give up any blood, so they had to stab my other arm to get the samples. We would have to wait around for the blood results before they could release me.
Meanwhile the Mystery of the Missing Blood was being penned as a small sub saga. They put stuff into my PICC line hoping to free it up but it didn’t work. They x-rayed my chest to see how it was sitting. All this involved me being wheeled around the hospital, I couldn’t walk any distance at all. They then concluded that I needed it refitting, so now on Monday I am having the PICC line fitted for the third time! The doctor saw me, asked lots of questions and gave me some tablets for the pain – oh yes as well as the D & V rolling pains and well just pain in my tummy were exhausting and debilitating, stopping me eating and drinking. Finally I got away. I wasn’t fixed, in fact I was more broke than when I went in, but I had the reassurance that I wasn’t going to die, so we went home to build on it.
In truth Wednesday was no better, but Thursday saw an improvement. I tried real hard to eat and drink plenty and my strength flickered back. It was also an emotional week. Being weak I guess, but boy Heartbeat on TV made me cry – a real tear jerker. The TV I really was enjoying though was The Bridge, but being in Swedish with subtitles, I did not have the energy to watch it till last night. A blonde Swedish woman drives around in a classic Porsche 911 solving murders – yep I like it. Anyway, I was looking rough and was long past due a haircut which I had hoped to get on Saturday but was way too ill for. Peanut drove me to the barber’s and dropped me at the front door and I felt like I crawled into his shop and sank onto his chair. I apologised and said I was poorly, which was why I would seem so miserable and asked him to perform a miracle on my hair. He did and my week turned around some more.
Friday saw a big improvement, I could still barely walk but I was eating and fancying things to eat and I was more my old self thinking about boys toys and things, which all week held little sway with me. Finally at six o’clock last night I knew I was saved as I uttered the immortal words said by so many trying to recover from a hangover, “God I could murder a Big Mac.” And so Mrs P took me to Maccy D’s and I committed murder.
Just to prove the cure we then watched the final two episodes of The Bridge and Mrs P is now the happiest she has been for a week.
Talking of my wonderful nurse, she has not been great herself, either catching a bit of what I had or making herself poorly worrying about me, but still being a fantastic nurse to me, dressing me, helping me shower, getting me to eat and drink and getting me to smile. Yeah yeah, I know I have the Big C, we know where it’s going, but you know what, I’m still the luckiest man I know – I have Mrs P in my life.
Tomorrow is another day, for some people the start of a whole new life of fun, I am privileged tomorrow to watch a young couple start that journey, and watching them I will be holding Mrs P’s hand and tomorrow I will make her a happy girl.