May Contain Nuts

I went out to lunch with Garry and Davey yesterday. It was my first lunch out since treatment had started. I hope it didn’t show that I was nervous. First time out to lunch and first time out with my picc line. I didn’t need to worry, everything was fine, and the lunch was tasty and just what I needed. I now have a new companion for Teeny Tiny keyring Toast, he is called Jellycrap! 

Woke up a bit later than usual today, it was a bit of a disturbed night with me keep worrying about the picc line. Of course I didn’t catch it, but the thought of sleeping with my arm up, and breaking it inside, is the thing that keeps me waking up. There is a little bit of blood inside it, but they said that was normal and it won’t always be like that. I don’t like to look at it. I know I should, but it’s still bruised and there’s a big fuck off clear plaster in my armpit that is helping glue together the hole that she cut. I already have a little red mark from where they did the biopsy on my lymph node in my armpit, now I’m going to have another, bigger, scar. Thanks, thin veins. Which family member passed that little genetic trait to me?  

Got ready for the hospital and got there with plenty of time again. Simon was in a better mood as he had taken the day off as holiday again. 

I was offered Bay 2 or 3 today. I opted for 2 and hid in the corner. Bay full of older women today. Woman opposite me spent most of her time on video calls with her friends and family. Joyce next to her was someone I recognised from my first round. She had been in the chair next to me and complained about everything. She was still true to form today. Woman in the end chair was doing her knitting, and everyone came to look at what she was making. It’s a bright red cardigan for her granddaughter and she going to make one for the plumbers’ daughters as he’s a lovely man, always helping her out. Then she slept most if the day! At the end of my row was a Scottish woman who told every member of staff about the ambulance she had called the other week because she was so ill after the red devil that they gave her (EC chemo), and the ambulance still hadn’t come after two days even when she had been calling again for help. One nurse did ask her why she didn’t get a taxi straight to A&E, but then she cried and said that she was too poorly to have gotten out the house. She lives on her own. Now that must be hard. I have my family around me to help; she’s going through it alone. That’s tough. She got a lot of attention from all the staff, and she left happier than she arrived. 

Picc line was used, which was weird. I thought I would feel more, but I didn’t. Felt as if nothing was happening. The pump on the drip sends everything through, so it goes in quicker. That’s a bonus. Bloods taken through the picc line as well. Having the dressing changed stung, a lot. I guess because it’s only just been done, but still, it smarted. A lot. 

I didn’t talk to many of the people again. They may think I’m rude, but I put my air pods in and listened to podcasts. The room was filled with lots of women talking and machines bleeping and alarms going off. I still don’t feel like I want to make small talk with strangers. 

Simon picked me up and we came home. Take away for dinner again, my choice and I opted for Pizza Express. It was delicious and I didn’t need to run to the toilet. That’s an improvement on last week.