Looking into holes. Part sixteen.

 “Never tell me the odds” Han Solo, The Empire Strikes Back

After a fairly uneventful week, hence no blog, it was planned that I should be able to leave the hospital for a short period at home before beginning the second trench of chemo. There will be four in total and,  possibly at some time early next year, a bone marrow stem transfer, depending on my suitability.

I had a letter from the QE hospital asking me to attend a preliminary meeting about the stem cell option and that was for Tuesday. Taking advantage New Cross decided that Tuesday would be the day I was also discharged. I expressed my concern that trying to do so much on the same day was a recipe for disaster but was assured that this would not be an issue.

First sign that the day might not go as planned was when I put my jeans on and they immediately sought refuge around my ankles. I needed a belt. I’ve lost about 2.5 stone so I’m pretty diminished. Of course a few pounds of that could be accounted for by my hair which has been replaced by the occasional dandelion clock billowing softly on my bonce.

At 11 Laurence came to New Cross to pick me up and the doctors proudly announced that I’d actually been discharged already although they hadn’t cleared it with the nursing staff who were enraged. I had no drugs or drugs timetable prepared for my week at home so clearly they had jumped the gun. I agreed that I would come back to New Cross after my Birmingham appointment to pick up what I needed. As Laurence and I walked away it felt like one of those slow motion scenes from the movies where the protagonists walk towards the camera as the landscape behind them explodes into flames.

This next bit should carry a health warning. We drove to a McDonald’s and I had a qtr pounder with cheese meal, banana shake, fries, two tomato ketchup sachets. give me a moment while I just focus on this. Ok I’m done.

The QE is the most ridiculously located hospital with apparently no parking in the middle of one of the busiest cities in the country. The haematology centre seemed rather low key and the main reception was manned by two blokes who appeared to be doing the same job at the same time in the same place. I have never seen two receptionists sat next to each other and I’m still trying to work out why this was.

The doctor who was very pleasant spoke to me for about an hour. She spoke factually and included as many mortality stats as she could muster. By the end I was convinced I only had two months to live. At one point the doctor said

 “we don’t use the C word here” 

“Cancer?”

“Cure”

I get that the stem cell treatment is part of a clinical trial so they need to lay out the stats but I just wanted to get back to the more positive environment of New Cross where they use the C word all the time. 

We got back to New Cross at about 3.30. I waited in a side room with Laurence and the nurse came in. 

“Stephen. As far as I’m concerned you have not been discharged and will not be until 7pm tonight. Your bed is still here and will not be released until you are. It was unfair to discharge you when you’ve been so ill so if you don’t mind I’d like you to remain on the ward until we are happy to discharge you later on this evening.”

I returned to my bed where my doctor emerged to gently suggest in muted tones that there might have been a computer glitch. He asked how my visit to QE had gone and I suggested that as positive mental attitude was a big part of recovery that they’d just shaved two years off my life. Anyway I did get to go home at 7 and that will be documented in my next series of blogs . They will cover the next phase of my treatment. The new series of blogs will be called “you’re my life now” so I’ll see you there, hopefully in the next few days. Thanks for staying with me so far and thank you for your support.