So come Saturday I was more than ready to pack up my carrier bag of dirty laundry, chase up my last 'push' chemo and head downstairs to be picked up by Sally for the half hour journey home.
Saturday was a brilliant day - in more ways than one. The sun shone, the wind was hardly there at all and for the first time in weeks my lungs were full of clean, fresh air. My ear, too, started popping madly as if to say "this is more like it!". After a big bowl of homemade soup and crusty bread, we ventured out for a leisurely walk round the village and across to the recreation ground where we sat with our backs to the tennis pavilion and our faces to the sun for a good half hour, soaking up the warm winter sun. We bumped into assorted friends and neighbours en route and caught up with the news and gossip.
A Healthy Appetite
If I could eat like I ate at home for those 30 hours, I would put some weight back on in no time (am now just over 70kgs, or just over 11st, the lightest I have been for 35 years). I'm not sure what they do to hospital food - apart from serving it lukewarm - to make it so unappealing, and this despite a visit from the Hospital Catering Manager to talk about extending my choice of foods as I'm in there so long. It seems I can now stuff myself on sausage rolls and pasties, cottage pie and other delights, as well as ordering the occasional cooked breakfast. At least they are trying to make the food more appealing - have had three visits from a delightful dietician who is determined to make the food repertoire more inviting.
The steroids they gave me in the first few weeks lay waste to all my 'big' muscles - arms, legs etc are like matchsticks. I am going to have to do some serious, but planned, physio at the gym when I go home.
 |
| Who is that bald old git? |
My hair has thinned out dramatically but, surprisingly I have still have a soft (white) down and, much to Sally's annoyance, my reasonably bushy eyebrows. I guess there is still time for the rest to fall out or disappear completely - something I had prepared myself for - but I know it's only temporary. What I had forgotten is that my razor is redundant - I haven't had to shave for four weeks now.
I know hair loss is a big deal for some people, especially some ladies who suffer all sorts of further uncomfortable indignities hanging onto what they have and/or covering up with wigs and bandanas. Luckily for most blokes it's not such an issue, though it is a bit frightening looking in the mirror and seeing some wrinkled old balding prune staring back with scraggy neck, staring eyes and a look akin to a turtle.
Enjoy the Moment
So back home for a 30 hour visit, I ate well, slept well, and felt well. A couple of walks, having tea and cakes with good neighbours Sian and David, an unexpected visit from son Tom, a scramble about in the loft to get the Christmas decorations down and some lights up (makes the place look cheerier), doing 'normal' things like paying a few bills and sorting a few bits of paperwork, a proper Sunday lunch and plenty of cuddles with Sally and dotty dog Rosie in front of a roaring log fire. Just don't get me started about going back to hospital after an exeat weekend.
 |
| Putting up some Xmas decs with Sally and Tom |
They kept my room. But not for long...
Yep, when I got back on Sunday night, much to my surprise I still had my sideroom (this luxury was to last until Tuesday incidentally when the pressure on beds necessitated my ninth or tenth bed change, back onto the open ward on D3). Actually it helped me to adjust back to hospital after my short break and I appreciate that whilst I am not neutropenic there is really no reason why I should have my own private room; however, like any other normal person my preference would be for a bit of privacy to spread, enjoy private phone calls, sleep without the crash and bang, moaning and groaning and bright lights.
No comments:
Post a Comment