Anyway, despite being allergic to pure morphine, as I've had diamorphine with no adverse effects we decided to give fentanyl patches ago (as suggested by Beating Bowel Cancer nurse). He was quite happy to listen to other suggestions since she is "obviously better used to dealing with this sort of pain"....so another GP at the surgery who considers what the patient is saying instead of a "I am God, you are a mere mortal, I shall be the judge of what is wrong and what you need" attitude? Curious.
Fentanyl 50 (they start at 12.5, 25 mg but he thought since max dose tramadol was doing feck all, worth bumping me up a few notches) is basically slow release morphine of some sort. 24 hours to get in your system and as long to leave it. If I show an allergic reaction that's going to screw up my weekend right?
The pharmacist (very nice, concerned I didn't terrify myself tripping my t*ts off alone on a Friday night when surgery is closed) double checked the dose with the GP as she thought it was "rather a high dose to start on". I pointed out I have cancer, and really things aren't going to get much better are they? I had to sign an extra box on a form and couldn't get them from the surgery dispensary since they're class A controlled drugs. Awesome - and they cost me nada.
Got back to work, slapped on a patch and waited for the itching, the vomiting etc....luckily nothing much happened till about 7pm at which point I started bouncing off the walls a tad. I rang sis (trying desperately not to sound pissed) to ask if she could pick up Lady D from the train station for me, as generously offered. Lady D arrived, we had to cram a bit of gossip in before bedtime (12pm). By 1am I was barely breathing or moving, or able to move, until I realised it said something about breathing troubles as a side effect and bounced pinball stylee off the bedroom walls, bed, hallway and staircase to get the leaflet.
Back in bed (head swimming, ears swooshing, room spinning) I read that if you or your partner/care giver (I shout again WHAT CHUFFING PARTNER) notice you are breathing more shallowly or weakly, remove the patch, call a Dr and whilst waiting for the Dr, you must keep walking and talking. SHIT. So obviously at this point I'm thinking - Lady D is asleep, if I stop breathing in my sleep, she'll not find out till late morning, we were both so knackered. Faerie will have left ages before I'm discovered, and that will really screw up everyone's weekend. So, what did I do? Did I shout Lady D in a state of panic as instructed by her prior to her head hitting the pillow? No, I practised "not breathing" which was terribly easy...but each time my breathing kicked in with a gulp so I figured I'd probably make it through the night. Clearly I made it, hence blog update. It all seemed kinda funny the next day.....
Super wibbly in the morning, not "myself" but - other than some breakthrough pain around 12 - 2am, I woke up for the first time in months with NO PAIN. Felt high as a kite, but no pain. Who gives one?
Faerie rocks up in her spangly convertible (showing off with her electric retracting roof - well not showing off, I was just jealous) and the afternoon was spent in traditional BB style with much gossip, catching up and some pampering of the foot type (i.e we managed to find a small bath to fit my Avatar sized feet in to soak) there were a few "oo, aahhh, oo that's good" noises but no men involved and we all kept our clothes on, amazing! I died my hair - having left too many weeks of roots since I bought the dye so I have a kind of red halo and dark red/brown everywhere else, never mind (yes roots are lighter by virtue of all the white ones). I demonstrated my ability to open the pink bubbles making the cork popping sound like "the satisfied sigh of a woman" apparently. Drove to the village (in a slightly illegal haze) for a chinese and we toasted Rebecca. No tears - just very wet eyes. She wouldn't appreciate sobbing I don't think, I certainly wouldn't.
The next hour was spent trying on clothes "does this skirt look better, or this one?" and thankfully Lady D brought pants with her (we were all wearing a different design of Wonder Woman pants of course) which is OK cos I think Faerie had a spare pair in her car.........
I don't care if you agree or not, we looked pretty damn hot! Becky's new husband was taxi and turned up on time (unlike his wife who likes to be an hour early) and we behaved very well and spent the evening in the White Hart bar on a comfy sofa. Even wangled some free Malteser shots.
Yes that's a shot glass, with maltesers in it. I had one and shared the rest out. I drank a fair amount of water, which wasn't that bad, still got bloody hiccups though and then felt sick. The only sober one who had to rush to the loos, how unfair! Lost a £1 trying to get a sample of pineapple flavour condoms too, don't ask....
The drunk ones thought they needed a kebab - however for some reason this particular shop sold DIY kebabs, with the meat in one tray, bread in another and chips in a third? WTF? The BBs were not impressed.
Sunday was spent mostly in the garden, on the decking, with me having whipped up a nice green drink and some wheatgrass shots - feeding it to my borders instead. Not sure if it was the lack of food, water or having stuff my body hadn't been used to for so long (only had veggie satay and one glass of bubbles and some beansprouts in a "spring roll". Anyway, I was feeling quite crappy. Managed to keep a pack of walkers ready salted down me and a banana, later a gluten free pancake. Whoop! All too soon my girlies had to go, but bed was beckoning us all. Next stop Dublin!