I’m back. And shattered. We got to The Christie at 0820 and left at 2150. On the way back my son the Engineer got fish and chips from a local chippie, and I ate a whole fish.
Now I feel better, but still shattered and very tired. But I’ll write as much as I can.
08:30, blood checks, then hang around for 2 hours waiting for the call for chemo.
11:00 up to chemo, Sign consent forms, take the anti-vomit tablets, get fitted to a canulla and introduced to a metal hatstand which will carry the drip bags feeding the chemo into me. Remember they are going pump about 5 litres into me and feed me 3 cups of tea. I will have to take the hatstand with me to the toilets very often. What’s worse I must perform into a cardboard funnel and write my bed number on the bottle, so they can keep track of input and output. I tried to do it using just one crutch, didn’t work, so I left the crutches by my bed and got as much support from the hatstand as I could. Worked fairly well, would have worked even better if the hatstand wheels hadn’t been made by the people who do the wheels for supermarket shopping baskets.
12:30 start the chemo with a dark stuff which goes in fats and turns your wee bright pink. I thought I’d better mention that first before my loving family get in first. (I’m in trouble anyway, the Dangerous Redhead is already out to get me, see tonight’s post.
13:30 Start pumping in 1 lt saline
14:45 Start pumping in 1 lt of chemo – this takes over 4 hours
19:00 Another lt of saline
20:30 0.5 lt of Magnesium
21:30 Flush everything out with a bit more saline and kick me out.
I’d hoped to get some work done, no chance. I felt too spaced out and weird. Towards the end I felt headachy as well. I finished off a couple of books and tried finishing another on my kindle, but I could not concentrate.
But I’m home. I got through the fear (at times blind fear), and now I’m just relieved.
For now I just feel drained, but happy. Talk more