Well, after my meltdown on 14th, suddenly I seem to be creating a little storm in my medical world. I have been contacted by or have had contact with more medical personnel than ever before in the 10 days that have passed.
The very next day the local Cancer Society Nurse phoned me to see how I was, and at that stage I could hardly string more than a couple of words together without disintegrating into tears. She was concerned enough to want me to phone my doctor straight away, and promised she would phone back the next day to make sure I had done so. I tried to make an appointment with my Doctor that day, but there was no room, so I saw one of the Nurses at the Medical Centre. She was sufficiently concerned to want me to see a Doctor too. But my original GP had left the practice , possibly because of locally, well publicised, heart problems which ended up in his having to be helicoptered off Mt Holdsworth, after a tramping trip to the summit and having a heart attack while there. Now his place has been taken by his wife (who was also on the tramping trip)! The Nurse assured me that the new Dr was very sympathetic and especially experienced in cancer cases such as mine, and the fact that she was a female brightened me up a bit more too. So an appointment was made for me to see her the following day.
Dr Annie, is, indeed, very sympathetic, and quite worried too, that I might be sinking into a black hole of depression. I don’t feel that I am, but I’m sure that’s what everyone else thinks, just from the recent re-ignited interest in my welfare. What my problem is, I think, is probably due to lack of sleep and I’m an over-emotional sort anyway. Dr Annie was tossing up whether to give me a short course of sleeping tablets “to re-establish a sleeping pattern” or to put me on course of anti-depressants. Thankfully she opted for the sleeping pills, which have been helpful in letting me sleep more but tears will still well up as soon as I start thinking about my current medical situation. Though just not as many or a violently as before.
The rational part of me knows that I probably have the easiest ride of just about any cancer sufferer in that the surgery got rid of the tumours, there was no evidence of spread to other parts of my body and now the further treatment is just a 6 week course of radiotherapy. Easy as!! But overriding all that is this terrible feeling of violation of my body. I haven’t been raped, but I think I can empathise with the sort of grief that a rape victim must feel. Unfortunately I don’t seem to be able to turn off the irrational part of my brain that gives everyone else the impression that I am in the throes of sinking into depression. The other upsetting part that the irrational brain plays on is the sight that greets me when I look in the mirror every morning/night.
Later, the same day I had seen Dr Annie, I had a call from the South Wairarapa Oncology Nurse, a person attached to the DHB, a man!!!!! He wanted to come and see me on Friday (at home). Reluctantly I agreed. Rational brain reasoned that at least he wasn’t going to touch me, but irrational brain shouted “Oh no, not another male”. It was a sort of “getting to know you” session, when he finally arrived more than half an hour late. Rationally I could see that he is quite a nice man but again, rational or not, I just don’t want any more male medics in my life right now. Try as I might I couldn’t bring myself to open up to him at all.
Some of that reluctance, and the fact that I was still tearful throughout the conversation we had, seems to have found its way to a file that, perhaps, the DHB is keeping on me. I only ever came within their aegis on the 9th when I went to the Radiotherapy Oncologist at Masterton Hospital, albeit that he was a visitor from Wellington.
We had a three day holiday weekend with Monday off, and the Cancer Society Nurse called again on Tuesday and made me and appointment to go in there on Monday morning (28th) to see a Counsellor. That, apparently will be ongoing, but transferred to Wellington when I go down there.
I saw that file which seems to be burgeoning rapidly despite what I figure must be relatively few entries in it, when I had a call yesterday from the South Wairarapa District Nurse, coincidentally a friend from Athletics. She, too, came around to see me at home, with the file in her hands, and spent 1.5 hours with me, some of that looking at the garden etc, but she certainly knew how to put me more at ease that the male oncology nurse had. And I could open up to her, tears and all. At this stage what was really starting to bother me was the lack of a start date for the radiology treatment. All inspections of the letterbox this week had revealed only the empty box. No sign of a letter from the Wellington DHB to let me know the start date, appointment times and the duration of the treatment. The 6 weeks figure had been bandied around, but I knew it could vary and no-one had ever confirmed, or otherwise the length of the treatment. Mel rang the Radiology Clinic in Wellington, but the critical person was at lunch! She waited for ages for the return phone call but it never came. But, she said, it had been promised by the end of the day.
That didn’t happen either, but just as I was about to exit the house for a bit of pampering this morning they phoned and said could I come in on 29th. Having already two afternoon appointments, one with the chiropractor and one with my massage therapist for 29th, I had to decline the offer. I really wanted the massage one to get rid of a shoulder niggle before I began treatment where I have to lie still for 5 minutes with my arms outstretched behind my head. While being pampered, a message was left on my voicemail from the Wellington DHB. I returned the call and now I finally have a start date of 31st January, but I have had to get rid of my routine hair appointment so that I can keep it. (Smile). Also our pussy cats are reluctant to use the new cat door we have installed for them, and for my own peace of mind I need for them to be well catered for while I’m gone. We’ve tried shoving Buffo through a couple of times but the message that he could/should do it himself hasn’t penetrated his brain. As for Macy, I can never find her to try shoving her through.
And lastly, just a few minutes ago I spoke with Dr Annie again. She wants me to stay on the sleeping pills and go on a course of anti-depressants, she says just to make me more laid back. “Don’t look at the internet” she said, “I don’t want you to be overthinking things”. So that’s my problem!! She was kind enough to lay that particular problem “in the minds of well reasoned, intelligent, and articulate people like yourself”. If I’m one of those, hopefully I’ll come out the other end OK.