Thursday, 23 September 2010

so, what's next ... ?

I spent a few hours at the hospital today. Like you do. I may as well start renting a room over there, it would make life easier and save me a fucking fortune on parking fees.

Here's the short-term plan. Let's use a few more bullet-points. I like bullet-points. To be honest, after the week I've had, I feel like using real bullets.
  • On Sunday, I will be pissing into a plastic petrol-can for 24 hours. Not continuously, obviously, that would be absurd and dehydrating. But each time I need to go, I shall go into the plastic-petrol can. I will then take my plastic-can of piss and deliver it to a nice female nurse at the hospital on Monday morning. Another chip away at my crumbling wall of dignity.
  • On Monday night I will be packing my overnight bag, for a stop-over at the delightful Watford General Hospital.
  • On Tuesday morning, after getting no fucking sleep whatsoever due to the bedlam that exists on the ward, I will be taken to 'theatre' and have a Hickman line inserted into me. It's a plastic tube thing that's drilled into my upper chest area, so my chemo drugs can be pumped into me in the following weeks - a bit like my previous PICC line, but not in my arm, but up near my increasingly blackening heart. I've started reading about the procedure but gave up midway through the second paragraph as it was total depressing and sounds like a hideous procedure.

    If you want to read about it, read about it here. I clearly have the kind of sick readership that would probably still go to Victorian freak shows if they had the chance, so knock yourself out reading the finer details of the misery I have coming up.
  • On the following Sunday night, I will return back to the hospital to prepare for my first 5 days of chemo-carpet-bombing treatment starting on the Monday morning. I'm staying in a shitty dump of a ward (I've been there before) and I'm just praying for a 'side-room' so I'm not staring at a collection of 80-somethings with tubes hanging out of their noses and who shit into bowls after drawing a thin blue curtain around them for 'privacy'.
  • Some 'good news'. I got some better pain-killers today. They are called oxycodone hydrohloride and are of the highly addictive variety that people from Liverpool would burgle your house to get hold of. I got a little bit high off them, which is to be expected as they are an opiate. At last - a slight pleasure in my world of discomfort and pain. Of course, the downside is that they will constipate me to hell and - as I think I've realised this afternoon - make me grumpy and snappy. Sorry, make me grumpier and snappier.

    They won't be able to knock out the worst pain, but they should make the general day-to-day shit a bit more bearable - just expect a slightly more lethargic, slower, washed-out version of myself. And even more grumpy when asked to do things. So, don't go ruining my buzz none, OK? You can read about my new toys here.
That's about it. I'm not feeling very writey today and my words are all a bit rubbish. Must be the new drugs. Anyway, I will not make more words happen as they are sounding wrongful and misunderstooding.

I wonder if I'll every have a normal day again?

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Opiates are great and I recommend them whenever youre fortunate enough to come by them legally. Never had oxycodone before, but I did have percodan once (good shit) and it was amazing in a way that I didn't think drugs could be. Good in a "clarity of thinking" sort of way, not good in an alcoholic euphoria way where you think things are good and really not. This was more like "ah... how life should be, every small pain, including the ones I forgot were there, gone like magic". I think it only gets nasty when you take them just because you've got nothing else to do, or are already having fun but want to take fun to the next level? I dunno, but you've got a legitimate reason so enjoy without guilt my friend!