Despite Oncology being packed full of ill peeps, I didn’t have to wait at all. Straight after bloods, I was put in a room and the Thessalonikian walked in with two nurses. I was so happy. My friend! He wasn’t too chatty today though.
‘How have you been reacting to the chemo?’ he asked.
‘Well, the first time I had aches and pains, then sore feet for the first few days. The second time I had flu-like shivering and aches but managed to make the symptoms go away with a homeopathic remedy.’
His eyebrows went up.
‘That’s OK, isn’t it? To take a remedy I mean?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know what it is. What is the name of it?’
‘It’s called Carcinosen?’
‘I do not know what is in it. If I don’t know what is in it, I cannot tell you if it is OK.’
‘Well, it’s made of cancer, funnily enough.’
‘Yes, but I do not know what it is made of.’
‘It’s made of human cancer.’
‘I do not know how it is made, or what things have gone into the production of this, so I cannot tell you, really.’
Hmm. I was flummoxed. Being always aware of the packed waiting room outside, we moved on.
Reminds me of a story Peggy used to tell. Queen Victoria used to walk around the estate of Balmoral Castle and go in to the workers’ cottages and sit down and talk with them. One time a Scotch Broth was bubbling away on the stove. The Queen asked what was in the Broth.
The peasant scratched his head and said ‘Well, there’s onion intilt, and there’s mutton intilt, and there’re tatties intilt and there’s….’
Queen Victoria interrupted him: ‘But what’s ‘intilt’?
‘Well, there’s butter intilt, and there’s parsnip intilt and there’s turnip intilt and there’s…’
The Queen interrupted again: ‘But I don’t understand: what’s ‘intilt‘?
‘Well, there’s carrot intilt and there’s barley intilt and there’s leek intilt….’
‘But what’s ‘intilt‘, man, what’s ‘intilt’?‘ shouted the Queen in frustration.
I think the story just carries on in the same vein ad infinitum, ‘Well, there’s chives intilt and there’s parsley intilt and….’ but if any cousins remember a punchline, please add it in the comments.
It was a bit like that talking to the Thessalonikian. BTDubs! I have found out his name! You’ll never guess: go on, TRY. No, you really never will. It’s FERDINANDOS. Isn’t that rather magnificent?
We had to fill in around ten sheets of info for the trial. And then almost the whole of me had to be examined. Ankles, abdomen, neck, skull, face, eyes, ears, teeth. He tested reflexes, listened to heart, shone his torch up my nose (I know, bizarre), made me focus on his nose while waggling his fingers in my peripheral vision.
‘Yes, I can see them wiggle…..I see them! I see them wiggle…..I see them wiggle.’ I scored high on that one, I know I did.
During all this the nurses stood present, averting their eyes, looking at the wall. I had to press his arm down, then out, then up. Whenever the sheet that you are meant to clutch around your boobs fell down due to me having to use both arms for a task, the sweet nurse (she’s called Cat) pushed my pile of clothes a bit nearer. But it’s not like you can hurriedly shove on your clothes in the middle of such seriousness. That would just add to the awkwardness. Truth is, you get to be past embarrassment really. You have to know that medical people don’t see bodies in the way that we do. They are looking inside at all the blood and guts. And once someone has seen and felt your boobs, does it really matter how many times they see and feel them?
I get a certain amount of satisfaction from thinking ‘Hehe, Ferdinandos, you are BLOG FODDER and you do not know it lol.’
You can get dressed for the ticking of the boxes. He ticked normal on quite a few, I am happy to report. I really deserved an A* for the wiggling fingers test but only got a normal.
I asked for the results of the MRI. Boob number two is totally alright. That’s good. I asked for results of the ECG but they’re not back yet. I asked them all if they thought the trial was a good thing, (for me, not for the world). Yes, they all thought it would be beneficial for me. One benefit I have already seen is that the trial nurse booked today’s nine o’clock appointment for me, as I forgot to do it on the way out last time. They’re on the case.
Despite having had blood taken already, had to have more taken for the trial. Other arm. While I was waiting, I chatted to a couple coming every day from Peterborough for the chap to have his chemo. They end up waiting for hours, so I found them the leaflet for the Mary Wallace Centre where you can hang out and the chemo people will ring through to tell you it’s time.
On another note, have received two answers (both on postcards) to the question ‘What are tits for?’ One rather clever anonymous diagram portrays protruding tits left with an equally protruding bum right, with the answer ‘a counterbalance!‘ ANON, you score B+ as you can’t draw faces to save your life, but well spotted.
Another has its title at the top: TITS AND TEETH.
This line at the bottom reads: AND YOU THOUGHT THEY WERE EYEBALLS.
The other side reads:
You get the elusive A*, for profound thinking, Fiona.