(all hum along now….)
Second cycle of chemo and like a 5 year old expected to go to school Tuesday as well as Monday… and slowly dawning on them that they have to keep on going whether its fun or not, I’m slowly waking up to the reality of a long haul.
The difference between being ill and taking some medicine to get better and being ill (well …self destroying) and poisoning oneself to out-poison the interlopers is HUGE.
Saturday night found me with a post lumbar puncture headache (well…i know that now..and also am told the best thing for it is Coca-Cola) trying to juggle phones, emergency services and sick bucket becuase I thought I’d be alright on my own for a couple of hours whilst my designated carer – my daughter in this instance- went to a late night showing at the flicks).
She never got to the end of the film… but was still the fastest option for getting me to A&E and coped brilliantly with me vomiting in the passenger seat as we sped through the night…only stopping once to empty out the sick.
Arriving in A&E, they were forewarned by haemotology…I had my magic ‘i might die’ laminated card… but I think what got me straight in a wheelchair and into the depths beyond the waiting room was the chemo haircut… wild eyes…pj’s and fluffy slippers and..oh… I was clutching an old porcelein potty as a sick bowl.
It was more One Flew over the Cuckoos Nest than Love Story 🙂
So another 24 hours in short stay emergency… where this time I felt in total safe hands.. they remembered all my drugs.. and I got an emergency referral to a dietician (who says if I feel like chocolate eclairs for breakfast I should just go with the flow and the calorie intake…andI’m not going to disagree with that)…
The upshot is stay as flat as possible… drink as much as possible (these two things are usually reversed at Christmas I know)… and hopefully the headache will slowly go…
… this morning I managed toast and a shower (not together but both upright activities) which didn’t result in me wanting to curl up in a ball and sleep in agony for several hours….. So they said I could come home for Christmas.
I’m not a fan of Christmas… I’m a bit bah humbug and curmudgeonly about the whole thing as a rule… but I did cry (just a little bit) when the doctor said I could come home.