Sorry to be a bit late on parade with the blog, but to be
honest, I’ve been totally wiped out by the ‘high dose chemo’ they’ve been
filling me with since I arrived on Thursday.
Did I say high dose?!?! Nuclear
dose more like – I hardly knew what my name was the first few days. Chemo is
well known for making one feel a little distracted, but I genuinely can't maintain
focus for more than a few seconds at a time.
And as for putting together a coherent sentence, forget it. I hope the
stem-cell transplant manages to reverse all this forgetfulness, because otherwise
I’m going to spend the rest of my life not having a clue what’s going on. No change
there then, I hear some of you say...
Consistent sleep feels like a distant memory, as I’m woken regularly for Obs checks, chemo bag changes, room cleans, lunch (which I don’t want), tea (which I don’t want) and dinner (which I don’t want). I am currently surviving on tuna melts from the coffee shop and fruit. They weren’t joking when they said I’d lose weight in here, I just don’t think it’ll be for the reasons they had in mind. I seem to have finally managed a good sleep last night though, so hopefully, I’ll be able to maintain my train of thought long enough to get this posted. ;-)
I am in a ward called Adelaide, which is politely called a chemo ward a.k.a., cancer ward. I have a room to myself which as I’m likely to be here for a month or more, I have decorated with a few bits from home. Having said that, they’re mainly pictures that make me cry every time I look at them, so I’m not sure they’re achieving their primary objective of making me feeling better to be honest. Perhaps I should rethink that particular bit of home from home dressing…
Yet again I am bowled away by the amazing NHS staff –
particularly the nurses. They are
nothing short of amazing. Adelaide has
had a bit of an issue with heating over the last few days. It’s basically been like a bloody oven,
averaging about 26-28C. This has been
hideous for patients, particularly those of us ladies of a certain age and for visitors,
as Mr. J. bemoaned loud and long on each visit.
The nurses however have kept going throughout. Working a 12 hour shift in those conditions while
staying focused and keeping a smile on your face takes some doing, so if I had
a hat on, I’d take it off to them.
Another reminder why we must fight so hard to protect and retain the
wonderful, wonderful NHS. (I’m not sure
we need to fight to keep the engineers who messed up the heating though – they can
sod off to be honest).
Right, I can feel my brain starting to go on a meander now,
so I’ll sign off and see where it takes me.
Who knows where I’ll end up – if you see someone walking along the
London Road or through the Oracle in pink checked jammies and a Race for Life
t-shirt can you please return me to the Royal Berks? They’ll know where to put me…
xxx
