The day started predictably with light following dark and kids sleeping in nicely after our thoroughly wonderful treat of tickets to Circ de Soleil in a beautiful box courtesy of David and Kate. Things were not to remain normal for long however…
“Has anyone got a bung for my oooji?” my chemo nurse enquired to the other chemo nurse who promptly without the need of a translator provided the missing bung. I didn’t see where she inserted it. There followed an animated conversation with her colleague on how to hook me up to the drip from my portacath. I suffer a little deafness, but Beethoven himself would have been perfectly capable of hearing this conversation! “I am not very good at finding these portacaths are you?” “No, I don’t like doing it, they move around too much. I tried her last time and after 3 attempts had to get Sam to have a go”. Undeterred by their lack of success they made their way to me brandishing needles and sure enough had a good old game of stick the needle on the donkey, although this donkey was playing hide and seek . Finally on 3rd attempt Sam was called and found the illusive portacath on her first attempt again . Champion.
In then came a shot of steroids called dexamethasone or dexy’s midnight runners as I call them. Hate them as much as I did the band and whilst they don’t sing Come on Eileen at the end of the evening, my legs do a passable impression of dodgy dancing and twitching all night long so don’t tell me that’s a coincidence. Anti sickness injection followed and we were just about to keep to schedule when I noticed my name on the chemo was Brown, not Bown. Now, I have no problem with this as have never been attached to surnames, but Chemo nurse was on the case… “that dipstick boy doesn’t know what he is doing”. Hmmm not at all alarming then seeing as this dipstick boy is from the pharmacy which makes up the chemo and I am pretty sure there is some strict science behind it. At least I hope dipstick boy doesn’t approach chemical recipes like I do food ones with a “that looks about the right amount” mentality.
And then came in Jim! As Jenny and I are both fully paid up members to the magnetic loony club, we sure enough attracted him like aftershave to a teenage boy. I am aware of the bloggers rule of ideally sticking within 750 words so I cannot possibly do Jim’s medical life story justice so you will (unlike Jen and I who are now about to embark on a deep sleep to recover) have to be satisfied with the edited highlights;
I cant turn Jim's image around but I dont see why I should be the only one who had to turn their head awkwardly to see Jim all day!
Jim aged 79 is a real character, has lung cancer and has lost 4 and a half stone, but this was mere child’s play to Jim who had died outside this hospital in 1996 when he started to see zigzags. Stories of defibrillation, finding himself cut out of his clothes including his coat and vest, quadruple bypass, stents and blowing up to a Michelin man and the effect on his male vegetables…were just the warm up act. We flew through the procedure for popping his eye out and replacing the pupil with a bit of plastic and a collapsed lung after a biopsy (you will be glad to hear Jim’s tumour is responding well and in his words has now disappeared after 2 chemo sessions) before changing pace and discussing Jim’s food intake. In short anything nice and sweet preferable with lots of fat on it yes please, anything green and healthy no thanks. Although he can eat Baxters Broccoli and Stilton soup but Mrs Jim doesnt like the smell. And all this information conveyed whilst eating a packet of crisps thus turning Jim into a human pea shooter and Jenny, should she now wish, has plenty of Jim’s DNA to test out on Matt’s DIY cloning set at home.
All in all a brilliant days entertainment and distraction, the time flew by, no magazines were read and everyone in the ward tuned into Jenny TV and are looking forward to the next episode hopefully on the 9th March.
And Jim, don’t forget, in amongst the TMI, you gave us your address along with your DOB so expect a birthday present in due course and maybe a small present!
Hope to see you again shortly, something tells me we have just scratched the surface. Any script writers for Holby City might want to get in touch too.