FIVE hours today for what is actually a 60-minute treatment, preceded by 30 minutes protective stuff (antihistamine, anti-allergy, steroid). That is a lot of wasted time. The rest was just waiting to have my blood tested and then waiting for the results. I’ve nothing better to do but I feel bad for my companions. I know they don’t mind but it makes it hard to ask them if they are available.
Anyway, a practical solution has been found. After next Monday, I will be able to drive over to Wharfedale Hospital on a Monday (no queues) and then go to St James’s on a Tuesday for a two hour session max (assuming they have the staff). I shan’t feel so bad asking people to accompany me for that length of time but, timed wrongly, no more sandwiches supplied and possibly only one cuppa. Swings and roundabouts...
I can’t believe I’m almost at the halfway mark of the second oncology treatment. It feels unreal. It was quiet today though the nurses were stretched beyond capacity. Seated next to me were a couple and she was called Janet too so the nurses were being particularly careful. She was younger than me, her hair grown back thick and curly (which she hates and straightens) and a different colour. I guess we were a similar size - certainly she struggled to fill her clothes (but it’s great that such things are important to her). She has leukaemia. She had a 100% perfect match of a donor in her sister earlier this year and had a bone marrow transplant. It failed. Now she’s trying a different kind of chemotherapy and it’s obvious she isn’t going to give up, even if it means going in several times a week.
It made me realise just how lucky I am.
Maybe next time I’ll whistle Always Look on The Bright Side of Life...
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