| All aboard the good ship chemo....and MORE C.I.bloody D
Category: Life This flipping GCSF malarkey is good but it's damn painful. Cancer Vixen was right, it really does feel like you've been injected with cement which slowly goes off. This time as well as the heavy pounding nauseating skull, neck, spine pain and rib pains (they are much milder this time round) I've got parasthesia.........I think that's right.....anyway it's prickling skin. I say prickling skin, it's like saying "chemo is a little unpleasant". Randomly, with no warning my entire back from shoulders to pelvis it feels as though I'm being whipped with stinging nettles. I have the deep muscle flu like symptoms too, but then I STILL have a flipping cold so it's hard to tell what condition or treatment is causing which symptom.
Obviously it came as a bit of a shock to get a phone call from the Job Centre asking me to attend a work related interview..........WTF? I asked how easy she thought it would be to find me a job bearing in mind I have to to to hospital at least twice a week, have three injections every fortnight, be too ill to shower, walk, drive for a few days every fortnight etc......oh and about to face surgery in three months which could take two months recovery. She said she didn't know about the cancer, just that I had been awarded Incapacity Benefit. I then reminded her I have a job........would my employer not be a little upset if I went for other jobs whilst their insurance is giving me private surgical treatment and half pay? Perhaps they could help me with training needs, she suggested, but I must attend an interview, although she'd talk to her boss. Training needs? Train me to do WHAT exactly? Work well and gain bonuses and good pay rises every year for the last 7 years? Doh I did that all on my own ta very much.
I got a 20 page booklet to complete regarding the details of my "incapacity". For the love of small children, how many times do my GP, surgeon and oncologist have to tell people "I HAD BLOODY CANCER UP MY ARSE AND I'M TRYING TO KILL IT OFF FOR GOOD, EXCUSE ME WHILE I TRY NOT TO DIE OF FRUSTRATION". That feels a bit better.
Katy came over to see me on Thursday and we both realised since redundancy and ill health have kept us from the office, we don't miss it one jot. The people - yes, work NO. Even the lack of free copies of Heat, Closer and Grazia aren't enough to make me wish I was there (good job I kept that snippet of gossip from the job centre woman eh?). She offered to do my ironing (too ashamed of the mountain to take her up on that offer) but ended up emptying the rank kitten and rabbit litter trays. At least she has a cat at home! I did wave the hoover round the carpet and provide a comedy lunch consisting of toast, parma ham, cheese and a side order of 15p Aldi instant noodles. Has it really come to this? Gone are the days, albeit temporarily, that I whip up a tasty salad with herbs from the garden drizzled with balsamic vinegar and chilli oil. It's all hands on deck, eat whatever you can find that is palatable!
Friday afternoon I fell asleep on the sofa under a blanket for an hour waiting for Pobster to arrive to prepare culinary delights and deliver a shipment of "sex chocolate" from Donna (fab tattoos, lovely slip of a girl who gave me Skittles). It was daylight when I lay down (a few hours after nursey stabbed me with GCSF), pitch black when the doorbell rang. I was, once again an appalling host. He brings the food, prepares the food, cooks the food and generally I eat at least half the food. This time I had a child's portion and had a proper one in the fridge to eat on Saturday.
Saturday the nurse arrived before 10. I awoke to the phone asking for directions....ridiculously my road is a few yards from one called exactly the same but with an 's' on the end. Even more hilariously there is another house down my road with exactly the same name....what kind of halfwit councillor signed that off?
After going back to bed for all of 10 minutes the doorbell went again and I heard the world's worst detective tell my 12 year old son he wanted to talk to me about the whereabouts of S**** W*****. The one who buggered off to join the Foreign Legion, remember him? See blog somtime in January I think...... I came downstairs looking seriously pissed off (I was) and he asked if I remembered him. Yes I said and I told you then I want nothing to do with him, he doesn't live her, I don't know where he is, I don't care. He reckoned I refused to talk to him last time..........erm no I didn't I divulged a couple of facts ACTUALLY and answered approximately TEN questions AND reminded him I had bloody cancer and am still having treatment an DO NOT NEED STRESS. My neutraphils can't cope with it. I also told him off for not showing me his ID card when I answered the door. He was chuntering about showing it last time...........as he shuffled off to his car, whingey whiner.
I went back to bed only coming down for Pob's "meals on wheels" and the odd drink........and toilet visit.........and more tissues to blow my nose. It was a very tiring day.
Sunday, more of the same, evil jab in the morning, nice chat with nursey. Offered me more help aroud the house, shopping etc through the local hospice. I told her, I know I may be foolish but I can't help thinking that I can cope and there are so many people worse off, that I like to think I'll forfeit my share for one of those. I can't even let my friends do my ironing for heaven's sake! I never accepted a home help when I qualified through ill health 11 years ago. Mind you I was made to be independent and learned from an early age that if you want anything doing, you have to do it yourself an it's a hard lesson to shake off.
I have won a few poker tournaments..........I say won, I came second and third more than once and won prize chips! Woohoo!
I need to get off this sofa and this borrowed laptop (oh yeah mine broke weeks ago and they STILL haven't collected it to fix) and go to bed but I can't really be bothered with the nauseating pains I get 
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