My dad took over from my mum as
I went in to the chemotherapy room. A room of about 12 comfy lazyboy chairs with
drips going into unwell people. I was to
join them as an outpatient for about 6 hours where I played chess with my dad
and dozed and sat. There was a young
gentleman and his wife opposite me having the same treatment and at one point
his wife noticed the drip bag was leaking and some of the chemo drug was in a
small puddle on the floor. The duty nurse moved him then put on goggles,
facemask, gloves, overshoes and a white SOCO overall to attend to the puddle.
What the hell is this stuff they’re pumping into my veins that they need such
protection from?!!!
At the end I was given a bag of
tablets including syringes and a timetable of when to take the tablets each day
which totalled about 11 a day and injections along with added complications of
some tablets to be taken with meals, some without eating, some not with other
pills, some on day 3 to 7, some on Mondays and Thursdays etc. My mother and I
drew up a calendar of what to take when.
Something was keeping me awake, I think it was the Philastrim injections.