Quick post after first 3 hours sleep since early hours of Sunday. After answering all the subtle messages from my brain, I discovered an horrific truth which I knew would end up with a hospital stay, I spent a few hours with my son as planned. Then text my sister, think it's all fine now, emotions in place, to ask for lift to hospital. She drove my son home "sorry, my pain is just a bit much to take you this time".
Edited highlights - 3 hours in A&E, repeat details and history to 5 medics in 4 wards, 4 different beds. Admitted, neutropenic. Need surgery which is too dangerous with neutropenia, still not seen surgeon promised by Monday morning to confirm action plan. Not operating increasing risk of yet more infection of worsening degrees. Assigned ensuite single room due to bloods on death of another patient.
During stay have had to insist that no "being young doesn't mean I'll live, why do you think I'm curable when my onco says not" to one Dr (clearly Dr 2's handover missed out the palliative nature if neut killing chemo (0.9 by this point). In sobs of tears (mine) the penny drops. Suddenly I am "vulnerable and need all the support available". Support arrives in disguise of Occupational Therapist asking how I feel today "utterly miserable" "oh dear, have you been feeling that for long?"
Incredulous, I say, well since some time after discovering I'm incurably ill but worse since my discovery leading to admission. No I dont need someone to come help me wash and dress every day, I dont need devices to help me get out of bed, I have cooked and managed my own life since I was 16. Yes of course I can walk short distances and don't need a frame - WHY are you of the impression I'm 80 and frail? I had a shower and dressed thus evening, packed a bag fir a weeks stay, arranged transport to hospital, how can you think of me this way having just met me with NO view of my notes, no idea that I got up four times and dragged my drip stand to toilet in the last 2 hours? Oh handover notes said I need help? Yes MEDICAL, perhaps emotional, definitely surgical. She realised too late she should have assessed me before making assumptions, apologies and left me in even more tears.
My stay has been a catalogue of minor but continual errors. Worst - the 1st Dr insisting I tell him how long I've got to live in front of my sister, now fighting tears herself, who after 3 attempts realises I will NEVER ask for or adhere to any expiry date from one of his kind. What bloody difference does it make to my treatment? Sorry you only have 8 months left, no point helping you, cuts etc? Who knows. I'll elaborate for those who liked Fawlty Towers when I'm out of here,
because really, if you don't laugh, you may as well jump in your coffin.