Thursday and I wake up to a coffee and the thought of my radiotherapy appointment. I get up for breakfast, coffee and morning meds slowly and without enthusiasm. What I am buoyed by is the WhatsApp messages of support I get. My friends are being very kind to me and it is very much appreciated. I dress and start the blog to fill in time before driving to the hospital.
GUTTED. I am too much of a risk to do Radiotherapy on. My cancerous prostate is invading my bladder so that radiotherapy is too risky and would leave me with some very unpalatable outcomes. The doctor was clear, cogent and sympathetic, if lacking a sense of urgency. So I have spent 71 days waiting for an outcome on drugs that I know are not working and watching my PSA level double in less than 71 days. I urged the doctor to press for an immediate appointment with my consultant oncologist so that I can get onto a new medication. His response was that he would write his letter today and my consultant would get it early next week. For fuck sake have they not heard of a telephone or email. Its so ritualised and unresponsive as to be unbelievable. I shall be on the phone tomorrow to the specialist Macmillan nurses who I will recruit into my campaign to be in front of my consultant as soon as possible.
Back at the car I find I am hemmed in and cannot get out. Cars too big and parking spaces too small. I’m about to probably lose it when the guy parked in front of me appears and leaves so I can drive through and get out. The drive into town is silent, neither I or my partner can process what just happened in the clinic. We sit in the restaurant and gradually talk about options. There are some practical things that this frees us to do so we make a couple of calls. Having eaten we leave and drive to the gym where my partner cancels her hair appointment on Saturday so that we can go to London for the final visit to my dead sister’s house.
Once home I change out of my “going to hospital” clothes and don shorts and an ice hockey jersey. I go to the village shop and get some cash as the garden guy is coming today. Once home I find I am still stunned and immediately head for the garden. I spend the next few hours organising the pot collection and potting out the plants that were rapidly drying in the greenhouse. Its comforting to immerse myself in the plants and garden. I finish all I can do and just as I pack up the garden guy arrives bearing a gift of fresh rhubarb from his allotment. We chat, I pay him and he get on mowing the grass, while I retreat inside to start my evening of eating, blogging and watching football on TV. I will inevitably end up taking my useless night meds and going to bed.
I’m lost in no mans land. Its going to be a rough fight, and I need the tools to fight quickly and that in itself could be a battle. Now I make new plans, simplify, simplify diet, simplify my days, simplify my priorities. Today the wind blew and my clock lost some of its body.
