Please remember the warning as this is going to get messy .......
Photo explanation later.
Bonjour, Bonsoir, Top 'o the morning/evening, Hi etc. my sisters. It is so humbling yet gratifying to know that I have made you smile or laugh out loud with my insane ramblings. It means so much to me. I don't need the praise though. The thought of your smile is enough. I laugh at myself and my crazy life so it's fine that you do too. But, I digress ....
One is pleased to announce that at 3.08 a.m., on this 13th day of purgatory, Rocky left the building. The following graphic description is not written to shock but to merely help those of you who may be facing a similar situation right now or may have to face it in the future. Many of you, I'm sure, will cringe with me, having been there, done that, T-shirt etc. Above all, I want to take the fear out of it, just in case you are worried and scared.
I settled into bed at about 9pm last night, completely exhausted. I'd had visitors. Two dear friends who brought a bag of fruit - apples, pears, bananas and grapes. Of course I was not allowed any of it, nor are likely to be in the foreseeable future, so it all went away with them. I felt so ungrateful. We sat in "my personal lounge". I had a mint tea and hoped that a nurse wouldn't come in and catch me. My girlfriend held my hand and stared at me with her beautiful Irish eyes. I obviously look bad. Her husband fiddled with the tv as I asked him if I could plug my memory stick into it and watch my programmes in cinemascopic panovision. He said no but told me how to connect my laptop to the tv. He may as well have given me the Enigma code to memorize..... I took my Doc Martin pill and was away into slumberland before 10pm.
Something woke me with a start at 3am. It was dark and still. My night light was casting weird shadows across the floor. I put my specs on. Better. I had the strangest of feelings. I'd had it before. The first time was back in June 1975. Now, bear with me here girls, or skip along as you wish. I was in a hospital bed in a maternity ward. My waters had broken at my mother's house whilst I was sitting on the sofa enjoying a glass of Guinness. Those were the days, ay! It was her birthday. She did not appreciate her soggy sofa. It was about 9pm and once I stopped dripping I went to the hospital. No pains or anything. I was given an enema (as they did then), shaved (hmmmmm), tucked up in bed and told to go to sleep. Hubby was sent home. However, I wanted my baby and it was impossible to go to sleep with all those wailing banshees carrying on in the other beds. I kept ringing the bell and asking if I was going to have my baby yet. I was told that it would be hours - possibly days. I continued to ring the bell every so often until in the end the nurse blasted me with Pethidine to shut me up. Bad move. It sent me into La-La land and I started to sing at the top of my voice, "Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside". It was about 2.30am. I got really told off then, but I wasn't bothered. I was having a great time. Shortly after I needed to go to the loo for a poop. I rang the bell and told the nurse to which she shouted back at me, "You don't need a poo, you've had an enema!". Well, says I, you either get me to the toilet quick or I'm going to shit in the bed. Luckily, her common sense kicked in and she decided to inspect my little bald pleasure palace. What greeted her was the beginnings of my beautiful son. Of course all hell broke loose. Bells going off in all directions, my bed being hurtled at full speed down the corridor into the delivery room and me shouting, "See - I told you I needed a poo!", quite unaware what was going on in my Pethidine haze. A couple of minutes later my son was here. I tell you all this, not because I know you will hate me as I am that rare woman who does not have labour pain, but because I think we've all have had that same "wanna poo" moment before baby's here. But it's not the normal wanna poo feeling, is it?
And so it was again. That same feeling lurking under the covers. Full of Doc Martin I staggered out of bed, unplugged my drippy friend - beep, beep, beep. shut up. Got to the loo. Plonked down and promptly nodded off for a couple of minutes. I came to as brown stinky soup leaked from my arse. Nice. Then, in slow motion, I felt a very smooth round object making it's way out. No pain, no strain, just a slow silent exit and all by itself. I had imagined Rocky to have spikes and razor blades all over his surface and be as big as a football. I'll have to guess the actual size but it felt like a golf ball, perhaps a bit bigger. It hit the brown sludge with such force that the splash-back covered the pan - and me. Then there was that other feeling. The same one you get when baby comes out with a whoosh. The internal organs jostle to reposition slightly and everything feels empty. It's a wonderful feeling and sitting there at 3.08am, all by myself, with no-one to tell, I cried. It was over.
I didn't bother to fish around to find Rocky in the muck, I had my work cut out cleaning the loo. I had to shower and change as I was peppered with stinky brown splashes. I was exhausted, crying, happy and I loved my children so very much at that moment that it ached. (Love the hubby too of course - sorry darling). I slept the best sleep ever after that.
I was woken up at 6am as per but felt really weird. Sort of out of it, too calm to be normal, away in the distance looking in. I told the nurse my news. She cheered, bless her. Breakfast passed me by again and a nice young man came to suck blood out of me. I still felt weird so just went for a little walk and later Doctor Toilet Handle arrived, smiling her beautiful smile from inside her enormous white coat. (She is German, by the way. She told me so today). In extremely bad English she told me that my latest blood test is looking good and that I can have chemo on Wednesday and go home on Friday. Sicher nicht, meine Liebe. I'm on a plane on Thursday. Nein to Friday. So, we haggle, like a pair of idiots in an Arab market. In the end we settled on Thursday morning - early - if I don't die on Wednesday. I'll have time to go home, inspect hubby's DIY, pack and get to the airport by 5pm. Job done. Doctor Loo Handle was thrilled that Rocky had at last exited and she left me with the promise of food. I asked if I'm going to see my own onc - the delicious Dr G. Nein, she says. He's on holiday. So, he's not hiding on me after all. I can stop stalking around outside his office now. I cheekily asked if she could let me have a CA125 test. I know it's not a good indication for me but I feel I've got to start thinking cancer again so let's see what's going on. She said ok, but we'll wait to see if it happens. Next blood test on Tuesday. I'm prepared for the result, whatever it is, and I'll let you know. I phoned hubby and told him to stay home as I was feeling weird - but happy. He didn't want to, but he did as he was told - for once.
Lunch arrived. I never thought I would get to say those words again. Soup and yogurt. I tried to slurp the soup slowly. It didn't happen. I abandoned the spoon and just picked up the bowl and in it all went. My goodness, it was good. But, the weirdness didn't go away. I decided to try get the photos off my steam driven phone onto the laptop, without really knowing what to do. Nurse Julien - the other Brillo nurse - came in to change my drip so I plucked up the courage to ask and got him to fiddle with my wires. Yes, really! He used the charger from the Kindle to rig up a connection from my phone to the laptop. He then downloaded a free photo programme for me and showed me how to upload. I've done that now and very soon - probably tomorrow - I'll give you a link to see them. That's if you are interested. In the meantime, here is Julien and Sylvie (above). Sylvie I have known for a year. She is usually in the chemo clinic. Last year, when I was partially paralyzed and trying to knit, she helped me and knitted a lot of rows for me. She isn't a full nurse - otherwise she wouldn't have had the time - she's an auxiliary. She is always happy and I love her to bits.
During the afternoon I watched a film on the laptop and just sort of chilled. The day was so still. No sunshine. No noise. No people. Maybe it was because it's Sunday or just because. I had a little walk through the ghost hospital. Bought a cappuccino in a drinks machine and sat all alone in an empty corridor with a security camera watching me. I wondered if anyone was watching me in a little office somewhere. I didn't do anything silly. My drippy friend started to beep. Bugger. Have to go back.
Dinner came - two yogurts and an apple compote. I went into my lounge and made a cup of tea - orange and cinnamon. My sons phoned. I told them that I love them to the end of the universe and back and how proud of them I am. They think I've completely lost the plot now, but they are happy that they'll see me soon.
So, It's almost time to close the shutters and think of tomorrow. I still feel weird but I'm not in pain and I'm not scared anymore. I don't even care about the cancer tonight. My sleeping pill has arrived and I'll have another hour messing and then turn in. Thank you all for your encouragement and comments. I cannot reply to all of you individually but I want you to know that without you all, I would have a little less reason to wake up every morning. I will continue with my reports - if you want me to - and hopefully I will still be able to make you laugh, or at least smile. The cancer will not rob me of my identity. It will not stop me seeing the funny side of my life, even when it's in the shit. It will get me in the end, of course, but it's not the end yet.
Sleep tight, mes amies. Don't be afraid. Let's hold hands nice and tight and march on. xxxxxxx
To admin: I'm sorry for breaking all the rules. x
Update To Recent Question
Follow-up to my post 
Pendle99 : Farewell to Penny
Monitoring for a recurrence
Hello Everyone
