Tag Archives: blood count

Wednesday 27th July 2016 – WELL, I HAD …

… a pretty miserable night last night. Not as bad as some, I must admit, but I was still awake at 02:00, again at 04:00 and yet again at 06:00. And from there I dozed off into a beautiful, deep and comfortable sleep only to be awoken by the nursing staff at about 07:30. That was just so depressing

After breakfast, Doctor Hermione came to see me. The blood test that I had this morning shows that my blood count has gone down again. Not by a great deal apparently, but I really did think that I was starting to leave all of these problems behind me.

On top of that, the proteins are off again and my urine is jam-packed with them. No wonder my legs have started swelling again. It seems that they are starting to become concerned about this and they will in early course be involving the kidney department.

The infection that I have seems to be going down slowly although you wouldn’t think so given how I’m coughing and how my head is streaming.

All in all, the news is not so good and I’m becoming rather depressed by all of this. It’s not working out at all how I was hoping that it might.

To cheer myself up, I had a shower this morning. That made me feel a little (but not much) better. And then I went for my hour out of my room to the CAT scan, having been pumped up with about a litre of some kind of disgusting drink that is a “contrast” fluid to highlight what’s going on inside me for the benefit of the people interpreting the photos. They had a “Toshiba” scanner and I asked the man in charge. He told me that it was rubbish and they had only bought it on the insistence of a doctor there. If he had anything to do with anything, he would dump it and buy a Siemens – the hospital is big on Siemens stuff. We talked about the equipment of General Electric, one of my former employers, and he agreed that they were pretty good too.

One thing of note is that I explained that I didn’t speak Flemish too well. He replied “no problem” and pressed a switch on the dashboard that changed the automatic instructions to English. Could you imagine that in an British hospital – changing the default language to a foreign language to suit the patient. Britain First and the rest of its racist mates would have apoplexy, but it just goes to show how insular and narrow-minded most British people are.

So having had a nice little hour or so out, and a good chat, I came back here for lunch. And to my surprise, I managed to eat a good lunch too. Rice with string beans, spinach and leeks. First time that I’ve had a decent hot meal for well over a week.

This afternoon, I crashed out good and proper which is no surprise. What was a surprise is how hard the girl from Social Services found it to awaken me. It seems that Hermione the Doctor has been asking her about my living arrangements and so she came to interrogate me. I know that they are far from ideal but I really don’t have too many other options. I’m as dissatisfied as anyone else about them.

It’s still quite early at the moment but I don’t care. The bad night last night hasn’t done me much good at all and so I’m going to try to have an early night. I bet that I’ll drop off into a beautiful, deep sleep only to be awoken by some nurse wanting to take my temperature or something.

That’s not as bad as what happened to me when I was in hospital in 2003, where a nurse awoke me to make me take my sleeping pill.

I’m still trying to work that one out.

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Monday 25th July 2016 – IT REALLY COMES TO SOMETHING …

… when you arrive at the hospital day centre and the nurse takes one look at you and says, in a horrified tone, “But Mr Hall – you look dreadful”. But that really is an understatement of just how I’m feeling at the moment.

I didn’t sleep too badly last night, I have to admit, and round about midnight I was feeling reasonably lucid which makes a change from how I was feeling when I went to bed after my pizza. I was soon back asleep again though, with one or two of the usual interruptions. I’d been on quite a few vivid voyages too, but the only one that I can remember concerns two extended-cab pickups. One was red, rather like a Ford Cortina estate but a pick-up, and the other one was a real pickup coloured a sort-of light lime green and with a black interior. Although I had arrived at this spot in the red one, I found myself spread out on the rear seats of the yellow one, half-asleep, with someone whom I didn’t recognise at all in the front.

The alarm went off at 07:15 but there was no way that I was going to leave my bed at that time of morning. In fact I went back to sleep again and awoke at 07:30 when the second one went off. I crawled upstairs to the kitchen and made myself a small breakfast as I’m still not all that hungry, and then off for a shower. If I’m going to have nurses poking and probing me, they would expect me to be clean and tidy.

For the next half hour we played “hunt the keys” for Caliburn. I didn’t find them but by this time it was far too late to do anything about it. I staggered off for the bus (remembering on the way to the bus stop that my keys are in my sac banane) and off to the hospital.

While the nurse took my blood sample I poured out my woes to her and repeated the story to the doctor. Not Hermione though – the one who replaces her when she’s not there. The Social Services girl came to see me and I told her everything too.

The doctor came back to see me a little later. The good news is that my blood count is still 10.0. It’s not gone up any for the last four weeks, but it’s also not gone down any and considering how ill I’m feeling, that’s really quite remarkable. It’s also quite remarkable that I haven’t had a blood transfusion for … ohhhh … weeks and weeks.

The bad news is that I have a raging chest infection. They packed me off for an x-ray (I’ve not had the results back yet) and then they reached a decision – that they are going to keep me in hospital for “a few days” so that they can give me some liquid food, some steroids and some medication for the infection.

So here I am, up on a ward,with a raging temperature of 39.5°C, sweating everywhere, and hopefully going to be cured – at least of this infection. But as it has been said so often, I’m at risk from all kinds of illnesses now that my my spleen has been removed, and while the lymphoma probably won’t kill me, I could be wiped out by something that I catch and won’t be able to fight off.

I hope that my room-mate here doesn’t snore. But he has enough to put up with with me coughing.

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Monday 18th July 2016 – I WENT TO THE HOSPITAL …

… this morning, and just for a change, seeing as how I’m not too well, I went up on the bus. I definitely can’t be feeling up to it if I’m having to travel by bus and spend €1:40.

Just for a change I’d had the best night’s sleep that I’d had for ages. Apart from one trip down the corridor, I was out like a light until the alarm went off at 07:00, and then promptly went back to sleep until the alarm went off again at 07:15.

I’d been on my travels too. Back driving a coach tour along the North Cornwall coast. The holiday had come to an end and we were ready to go home. The advertised way was down across the county to Exeter and then up the M5, but the prettier way, even if it was a longer way, was along the coast and so I asked the passengers if they would like to go that way. Many of the passengers had been with me last year when we had gone along the coast too. They were having a discussion about that and so I decided to move the coach off to a safer spot. However I had a hell of a time getting the coach to start and when it finally did start there were clouds of white smoke everywhere and the coach wouldn’t accelerate. This was a bad start to the final day’s holiday and I was hoping that the passengers hadn’t noticed.

I had another go at having a decent breakfast ready for my long day, but I ended up leaving half of it. I’m still not up to it, I reckon. And it was scorching outside, even at 08:00. I’m glad that I had decided to take the bus.

At the check-in at the day care centre I was taken by surprise. I was sent straight to a little room instead of having to go through all of the preliminaries downstairs. That didn’t sound too good. And I had a nurse who had exactly the same accent as Goldmember. That was worrying too. She fitted me with a drain and took a blood sample. And I have to give a urine sample too and that’s taking the p155.

My weight has gone down by 3kgs, which is probably normal seeing as how little I’ve been eating just recently.

The Doctor came to see me – not Hermione unfortunately – but the other one and we had a good time discussing everything that has been going on with me just recently. She’ll know more when she has the results of the blood test later today but to her it sounds as if I have caught an infection and it will soon pass through. I hope that she’s right.

She did however send me to have my chest x-rayed. Done on the spot!

Strangely enough, in between the blood test and the visit of the doctor, I’d suddenly started to feel so much better. How is that for an irony? I managed the soup and bread for lunch, as well as a large packet of crisps that Alison had bought me and which I’d taken along for emergencies.

The perfusion was ready quite quickly and didn’t take long. By about 14:45 it was all finished. The doctor came back with a prescription for the medication that I had finished off, and told me some good news. My blood count is 10.0 – exactly the same as it was 2 weeks ago. And given all that I’ve done and all that I’ve been through this last 2 weeks, that’s quite impressive. I’m very pleased with that.

And when was the last time that I have had a blood transfusion?

She told me that I do have an infection too. She’s not too worried about it and it’s one of the things to which I’ll have to become accustomed giving the loss of my spleen, but she wants me back next week (instead of in two weeks time) to see what is happening.

She did offer me the chance to stay at the hospital. Had I been living anywhere else that I had during the last three months, I might well have taken her up on it. But I’m comparatively comfortable here so I decided to come back home. I must be feeling better.

Having paid the odd account or two, I set off home – on foot too – and ended up in town at the supermarket buying a few bits and pieces. I’ve even eaten tonight – nothing special or exotic but proper food. And three good meals too.

And not only that – it’s now 23:45 and I’m still awake and not in the least but tired despite my full, exhausting day.

Things are looking up.

Ans we’ve had more excitement in Parliament today. During the debate on the new Trident replacement, the new Prime Minister, Theresa May, attacked Green MP Caroline Lucas for speaking against the proposals, saying that Lucas was “defending the UK’s enemies”.

Now have a close look at this speech – “Naturally the common people don’t want war; neither in Russia, nor in England, nor in America, nor in Germany. That is understood. But after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine policy, and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is to tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country.”

Did you notice the bit about “denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger” which has clearly influenced Theresa May’s speech? The speech that I quoted just now was one given by none other than Hermann Goering.

Having had the B Liar paraphrasing the Nazi speeches during his period in office, it looks now as if we’ve got yet more Nazi clones in charge in Drowning Street.

That’s a frightening thought now, isn’t it? Or were we all expecting it?

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Wednesday 13th July 2016 – I’M BACK …

… in Leuven. My stay back in France didn’t last too long, did it?

I had another good sleep, only having to leave the bed once. Well, twice actually, but seeing that the second time was 05:50, just 10 minutes before the alarm was due to go off, I didn’t bother going back downstairs. Instead, I dressed and went down to make breakfast.

By the time that I had done that, made my butties for lunch and had a shower and change of clothes, it was 07:10 and Terry was ready so we hit the road.

It was a beautiful drive right across France to the Rhône valley and Lyon, and we were there on the outskirts of the city by 09:20. The next 6 kilometres was a different proposition. With the traffic queue that we encountered and then the changes to Lyon’s road network that weren’t shown on Terry’s Satnav, it was 10:10 when we arrived at the station. It’s a good job that we had allowed plenty of time for the journey.

There was however plenty of time for a coffee as the TGV was late arriving. 11:00 was the time of departure, but we finally set off at 11:25. We stopped at Marne la Vallée, Paris Charles de Gaulle and Lille as I expected, but also at Haute-Picardie and Arras which I hadn’t realised. Consequently it was 15:30 when we pulled into Bruxelles-Midi.

The journey wasn’t boring though. I did a pile of work on my website, though and I was sitting next to a woman whose father was born in Les Ancizes. We had a lengthy chat about the Auvergne, and she and I set the world to right about the Brexit. It’s not very often that I meet someone who thinks along my lines.

A brief amount of excitement at Bruxelles-Midi was when I bought my ticket for my onward trip to Leuven. I used one of the automatic machines and I received my ticket, plus one from the previous passenger who had clearly forgotten to pick it up. I had to find an information booth to leave it there.

15:56 was my train to Leuven, and by 16:30 I was there on the station. And it was pouring down too. It started almost as soon as we arrived at Charles de Gaulle and had continued for almost all the way. Typical Northern French and Belgian weather.

It soon brightened up though and so I set off for my place of residence. Half an hour’s brisk walk it took me to arrive here and that was carrying a large bag too. That made me think how much my health must have improved. I would never have done this two or three months ago, and round about now i ought to be experiencing a collapsed blood count and expecting a blood transfusion instead.

It’s nice to be back in my little room again, even if I am moving on to another room tomorrow. I grabbed a coffee and sat down for a relax. Tea was rice with lentils peas and carrots and it was delicious too. I must remember to buy some more boulghour tomorrow.

Now, I’m going to have an early night. After my marathon voyage today, I reckon that I’ve earned it.

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Monday 4th July 2016 – JUST FOR A CHANGE …

… no-one disturbed me during the night and I had a reasonable night’s sleep. I was up and about a couple of times during the night as you might expect, and I was off on my travels too. And I would tell you all about it except that you are probably eating your breakfast or something right now.

I was up before the alarm went off too – beating the blasted church bells by a couple of minutes – and I had a good breakfast. I was not alone either – I had company for fifteen minutes or so while I tucked in.

It took me a while to sort myself afterwards and then went off to the hospital. A brisk 20-minute walk (and saying that it was brisk tells you how I’m feeling right now) brought me to the hospital, and I dropped off my nice clean bed-linen in Caliburn. That’s more stuff out of the way now. However, when I returned here later in the afternoon, I bought a pile of tinned stuff with me so we are quits.

But we have had some good news in the hospital, and that is that my blood count has gone up from 9.3 to 10.0 – all on its own. And that’s after two weeks too. Mind you, we’ve had a couple of false dawns before as you know, and so I’m more interested in seeing what it will be like in two weeks time.

We discussed my water retention issues, and they sent me down for a scan to see whether there was a thrombosis. That turned out to be negative, so they could start the next lot of treatment. They are giving me Mabthera, something that is designed for the chemotherapy-intolerant of those who have relapsed. I had that last time and I didn’t notice any side-effects and that’s positive news.

And, of course, no blood transfusion and that’s always good news too.

They have given me an emergency number to ring in case I have another major swelling issue like the other weekend, so I’ll have to file that carefully. I might need it.

I was liberated late in the afternoon and walked back down here in the heat and sunshine and doesn’t that make a pleasant change?

I cooked myself a meal of chick peas and the like with rice and had a chat with Lizand Rosemary on the internet. Now, I’m having a quiet relax before bedtime.

And in other news, I’m sure that you have noticed that yet another rat has deserted the sinking ship. It seems that the Brexit “Ship of Fools” is now drifting helplessly on the storm-tossed seas with no hand on the tiller. Not one of the leaders of the “Brexit” campaign has stayed to steer the ship. That’s because they all know what is awaiting them (Standard Life is the first financial institution to close down part of its UK operations as a result of the result) and they don’t want to have the catastrophe nailed on their doors.

It’s really quite funny to watch all the Brexit leaders running away.

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Monday20th June 2016 – I SUPPOSE THAT YOU ARE ALL WONDERING …

… what the outcome of my visit to the hospital today was.

Firstly, no danger of my being late for the appointment, for I was wide-awake at 05:30 this morning and surfing the internet, for want of anything special to do. I had a leisurely breakfast and then, making an executive decision, I set off to the hospital in plenty of time without my rain jacket, seeing as how the day looked as if it might just be promising. And how I regretted that decision on the way home, when I had to brave a rainstorm to return to my tiny garret.

First person that I saw after registering was my doctor. She told me that the bone-marrow sample showed no trace of any illness having spread into there and so they too were making an executive decision – which was to definitively stop the chemotherapy. That’s good news as far as I am concerned. Instead, they are going to try another type of treatment and see what effect that has, as well as giving me a medicament that will stimulate the red blood cells.

The nurse then came and dragged me into a little cubicle where she took my blood pressure and pulse, and fitted me with a drain to my chemotherapy port. Once that had been done, she took a blood sample.

An hour or two later I was led to a little private ward where they coupled up three perfusions to me. One was the aforementioned stimulant, the second was a steroid and the third one was some kind of medication. They were all connected to me via a metering machine and I had to ring them every half hour so that they would come and increase the speed.

10 minutes later the doctor came to find me, to tell me what they were going to do to me, but she told me that she wouldn’t bother, seeing that they were already doing it. But the good news is that my blood count, a good week after the last transfusion, is at 9.3 and it’s a long time since it’s been this high. And so no blood transfusion this week.

It was round about 18:00 that I was thrown out of the hospital so I went to check on Caliburn, give him a couple of laps around the car park to warm him up, and park him in a different place so that it looks as if he’s doing something. Plenty of space on the car park at that time, so I reckon that if I decide to move him, I’ll have to keep him out all day until the evening when I can take him back.

I’m running short of socks and undies here so I fetched some more down, and I also meant to bring some more foodstuffs, but I forgot. And how I wish that I had remembered, as I have no small tins of mushrooms or vegetables to pack out the remains of Saturday’s Indian meal. I had to use plain rice and a stock cube instead.

So with my next appointment now in two weeks’ time, I can relax for a while and not worry too much. But I’ll be intrigued to see what my blood count will be when I go back.

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Wednesday 25th May 2016 – JUST FOR A CHANGE …

… I had a pretty good night’s sleep last night.

I was in bed by 22:00 and I don’t remember very much after that before I went to sleep, but apart from one or two trips to ride the porcelain horse, that was effectively that until about 07:30. It’s a long time since I’ve had a sleep quite like that in a hospital.

Today, I’ve had a couple of visits. Firstly, the doctor came in for a chat with me. She’s concerned about my general health, which I might have said the other day, but she’s even more concerned about my dramatic weight loss. I’ve lost 11.6kgs since all of this started and she’s worried that if it keeps on at this rate, I’ll be starting on the muscles and proteins and that could be serious. She did however mention that my blood count has gone up after my transfusion – it’s now 8.7.

a short while later, the dietician came to call. Not the usual one (she’s away for a couple of days) but another. he told me that the doctor had sent me and that they wanted to know much more about my eating habits.

He spent a great deal of time chatting to me and seemed to be very thorough in what he was trying to do. He didn’t, unfortunately, have any instant solutions (I would have been surprised had he done so) but he’s going to try to put together some kind of plan and he’ll get back to me tomorrow.

Apart from that, that’s all really. I’ve had a quiet, relaxing day of not doing very much at all, and I’ve managed to force some food down – to such an extent that you might say that I’ve had a couple of decent meals for once. They remembered to bring me biscottesinstead of bread for breakfast – but forgot the jam!I’m hoping that I can have a pretty good sleep tonight too and maybe feel a little better for tomorrow.

But what’s worrying me is that I’m feeling like this already and I haven’t even started the next lot of chemotherapy. Remembering how bad I felt last time once the chemotherapy was over (and that was starting from a good healthy position), whatever am I going to be like in a week’s time?

I shudder to think.

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Monday 23rd May 2016 – MY LIBERTY …

… didn’t last all that long, did it?

Here I am, back in the hospital, in a different ward, and here I’ll be staying, I imagine, until the cows come home. I’ve no idea.

And despite all of the money that I spent on some decent accommodation last night, I had something of a bad night. Having crashed out last night by 21:30, I was awake long before 03:00 and I don’t recall going back to sleep afterwards.

I had a visitor during the night too. A local farmer came to see me back at my place in France (it wasn’t my place in France, actually, but never mind). He complained that I’d been going too fast past his fields and he would appreciate it if I didn’t go so fast and that I didn’t take the short cut through the mountains. I didn’t recognise him so I asked him to show me which were his plots of land, and eventually he whipped out a map of the area, which turned out to be the Arran Peninsula in Scotland. After a good look, I could work out that there were parts of France marked on this map too but I was having difficulty trying to identify them. And while I was doing that, he was explaining that he was part of a committee that oversaw various rules and regulations and had the power to fine transgressors as much as three Euros for any breach thereof.

This morning it was lashing down with rain and there were traffic queues everywhere. Luckily the traffic going my way was moving steadily and I wasn’t delayed by much. In fact, I was at the hospital in the day centre by 09:15, 15 minutes before my appointment.

The place was crowded too and it took a while to be seen, but it wasn’t too long before I was stuffed into a side ward and given what looked like half a gallon of antibiotics. My blood count is down too (although this is no surprise) to 7.4 and so a transfusion is on the cards.

And what with one thing and another (and once you make a start, you’ve absolutely no idea how many other things there are) they’ve decided that rather than kick me out and call me back on Friday, they’ll be keeping me in. Still, focus on the positives – it means that I’m not having to pay any accommodation fees anywhere.

I had to wait ages, though, for a free bed and it wasn’t until 20:30 that I was wheeled upstairs. A different ward, as I said, and no-one speaks English here which is just as well for I need to stretch my Flemish.

I have a room-mate and he seems to be quite cheerful enough and, to my great delight, he doesn’t seem to snore. How I’ve longed for a room-mate like this.

So I’ll settle down for the night now and see how it goes, and I’ll give you all an update tomorrow. If ever I drop off to sleep, that is, because for some reason or other (possibly because I had something of a sleep during the afternoon) I’m not feeling in the least bit tired at the moment.

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Friday 13th May 2016 – NOW, THAT’S MORE LIKE IT!

Last night, I dropped off to sleep during the middle of one of the Boris Karloff “Mr Wong” films, and apart from a trip down the corridor in the small hours, that was all that I remember until 06:25. It was one of the best nights’ sleeps that I’ve had since I left France and I enjoyed it so much.

I’d been on my travels too, playing bass in a rock band somewhere and we had a concert to play, part of a huge music festival. And although we were set up and ready, our drummer (a friend of mine from way back) hadn’t turned up. He hadn’t sent a message or anything to say where he was or what he was doing, and because we weren’t therefore ready, our spot at this festival was slowly being whittled away by the organisers. And with him being my friend, my bandmates were having a little whittle at me about it. Everything was here from this drummer – his tent, his drums, even the roller skates for his roller skate hire business – everything except him.

So breakfast all eaten and done long before the alarm went off, a nice warm shower and clean clothes long before 08:30, even time to spend on doing some more blog updating before hitting the road at 09:30. And I apologise to Pellenberg for some of the things about it. Not because they aren’t true, but because it’s only half the price (like €10:00 per night) to stay here. I’m prepared to put up with the inconvenience at €10:00 per night.

First stop was the bank, where I had business to perform. And I learnt a thing or two there that I didn’t know either and that made me feel bettertoo. And afterwards, I went to LIDL where I bought myself a set of three new toys – some 800mm (massive) SDS drill bits, 16, 18 and 24mm, at €9:00 (for three, not for one) and these are so impressive.

Next stop was to Spit. This is a charity shop in Leuven that sells books, records, clothes and tons of furniture. It’s huge and full of stuff and I spent a pleasant hour in there looking for stuff. Not buying anything, of course, just looking. But I could have bought several items had I been of such a mind. There was some good stuff in there.

Lunch was at the fritkot at the Jacobsplein, and then off to the hospital for my check-up.

I gave a blood sample and it came back as 8.1. And that, surprisingly, is quite stable for the last couple of weeks. In fact, since I’ve been undergoing treatment, the blood count hasn’t dropped below 7.8. They reckon that I can go for a week without a transfusion because they are keen to see how I hold up. I explained that I’ll be doing a lot of driving but they seem to think that I’ll be fine.

I do like their optimism.

So they heaved me out at 16:00 – minus the transfusion – and I hit the road for home. And I don’t mean “home” as in Pellenberg but “home” as in the Auvergne because I’m coming back for a week. I need more clothes, more books, more stuff in general if I’m to stay here until September and I reckon I should grab it while the grabbing is good. My next appointment is Monday 23rd so I have a little 10-day window to do it.

But it was horrendous coming back. Totally horrendous. The traffic queue started just outside Leuven and lasted until well after Valenciennes. And then there were all kinds of perturbations on the Francilienne. All in all, a journey of less than 4 hours to Melun took just under six hours to complete. Ironically, before I set out, I was toying with the idea of going back via the old road to Auxerre but I reckoned the motorway would be less stressful.

Ohh woe is me!

If this isn’t bad enough, the Première Classe Motel where I’m spending the night (in view of my state of health I’m doing the trip back in easy stages and in comfort) isn’t actually in Melun, it’s in the neighbouring commune. However, there’s a street of the same name in Melun so that when you programme the street name and “Melun” into your GPS like someone around here did, you end up in the middle of some rather insalubrious council estate somewhere. That took me a good 20 minutes to sort myself out.

But as the legendary Marechal MacMahon once said – “j’y suis, j’y reste” or “here I am and here I’ll stay”. Or as Martin Luther put it – “hier stehe ich – ich Kann night anders” or “I’m staying here – I can’t do anything else”.

I’ve had enough for one day.

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Thursday 21st April 2016 – BACK IN THE HOSPITAL AGAIN!

But I nearly wasn’t! I vaguely remember the alarm going off at 08:00 and had it not had a snooze setting to ring again 10 minutes later I would be still asleep now, I reckon.

Mind you, this isn’t a surprise. Although I was soon asleep after watching another Bulldog Drummond film, I was awake again at 00:35 and once more at 03:00. And that time, I was awake for hours, even watching dawn slowly filter its way through the curtains. But I must have gone back to sleep at some point, if only to sleep through the alarm.

Mind you, I was on my travels during the night, and strangely enough, I wasn’t appearing in my first voyage. I vaguely remember a young, rather inept parish priest who was continually having difficulties with life in his parish, to such an extent that his bishop and a canon came down to see him. At some time during the proceedings the bishop and his canon ended up locked in the police cells due to something that had happened involving the priest, and it was up to the priest to convince the authorities to release them, not that anyone had any optimism that he might be successful based upon his track record to date.
But once I had gone back to sleep during the morning, I found myself with my brother (and I do wish that my family would stop becoming involved in my adventures). He had a BMC 1300, the same metallic green colour of my Vanden Plas and it had broken down somewhere in a small French town. He’d pushed it into the town square and left it outside some friendly person’s house and that was where it stayed. I was then roped into have a look at it. The first time that we went down there to see it, I had a good poke around and couldn’t find any reason why it wouldn’t go – it all seemed fine to me – and the friendly neighbour made us both a cup of coffee. The second time we went, I could still find nothing wrong with it and this time someone (a friend of ours but I don’t know who it was) brought us a couple of huge plates of macaroni. There was so much that I hardly made a dent in mine and in the end we left out plates on the dinner table of this neighbour. On making enquiries of my brother, it turned out that what had happened to the car was that one of the driveshafts – the left-hand one – had tightened up. I immediately suspected the CV joint but that wasn’t something that we were going to fix then and there, so I needed to go and fetch my trailer and hope that wecould winch it aboard. I reached in through the window of this house for our plates, passing my brother’s plate to him, but I upset mine and half of the macaroni went all over the floor.I apologised to the neighbour about that but he was quite OK about it, which was quite nice of him. And then I asked my brother about what he intended to do about thanking the neighbour who had kept an eye on his car for him, made us both coffee and so on. My brother didn’t think that he needed to do anything about it, which I thought was rather mean of him. I reckoned that a bottle of whisky was a good idea, but then again, it wasn’t really a concern of mine.

At breakfast this morning, we were a strange crowd. There was only one person whom I recognised, and all oth the others seemed to be quite young couples. We seem to have had a dramatic change of inhabitants overnight. And whoever made the coffee this morning – it was nothing like as good as usual.

I was on the bus at 09:45, sitting next to the girl with the viola whom I had seen on the bus last time that I’d come here. And by 10:10 I was at the reception. It didn’t take them long to see me either and I’ve had a drain fitted in my arm. They also weighed me, and it seems that I’ve gained 3 kg since last time. That doesn’t sound right to me.

They gave me a blood test and while waiting for the results, Sophie the trainee doctor who had seen me last week called me in to see her. After giving me a good going-over (including another feel of my groin) she told me that I need to come back next Thursday 28th April. They’ll give me a series of X-rays and fit a chemo port in my chest, then on Friday I’ll start my next session of chemotherapy. I’ll be here, apparently, until the following Monday and believe me, I’m not looking forward to all of that – not in the least. 5 days – and 4 nights – in hospital. I hope I have a room-mate who doesn’t snore!

Another task that needed to be done was to give me a scan of my legs. This swelling isn’t improving and they are worried that I might have another nomadic blood clot. But it seems to be a problem about water retention. Perhaps I should ask Terry to give me a tap on the ankles.

But although it doesn’t seem much like it, there is good news. Firstly, my blood count is at 9.1 and so I didn’t need a transfusion. That cheered me up a little. As did the news that the mouth-wash and the anti-biotics can be stopped as soon as the supplies run out, which will be in about 2 days, I reckon.

I wasn’t in the mood for jam butties for lunch so I settled on a visit to the shop in the foyer. They have a selection, would you believe, of vegan food and although the chick pea salad looked vaguely interesting, I settled on a vegan spiced loaf. I ate half of it and the rest I can add to the supplies up here.

On the way back here (I walked back, by the way) I found a wallet on the car park. I was tempted to take it to the police but I’m trying to keep a very low profile while I’m here because, as regular readers of this rubbish will remember, I’ve had more than my fair share of run-ins with Belgium’s finest in the past so I don’t want to go looking for interaction, so I brought it into the hospital downstairs and handed it in at the desk, giving a little white lie that I had found it outside. The net result will be the same, in that seeing as the owner’s identity card is in there, it will find its way home eventually. But just without my involvement.

Leuven was packed tonight, I don’t know why, and I had to wait 25 minutes for my pizza to be cooked, such was the pressure in the kitchen. And it wasn’t as good as usual either, but I suppose that they were rather rushed.

So once again, it’s an early night for me and then a relaxing day with nothing planned for tomorrow. So I’ll have a nice quiet day totally free of interruptions. Just you watch someone come along now and spoil it.

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Friday 8th April 2016 – I WAS RIGHT …

… about last night. Another dreadful night where I couldn’t drop off to sleep and at 04:00 I was still wide awake. How I hate this. And it’s a long time since I made so many trips down the corridor too in one night, but I didn’t really care about that. If I’m suffering, so should everyone else too.

But I did manage to drop off and go on the odd ramble or two. The first part of my little voyage involved producing a rock concert for one of my heroes – the Welsh rock group “Man”. I decided that their long concert of two and a half hours would be played in two sets, each of an hour, and then a third set of whatever remained. The group seemed to be okay with it, although I did have the impression that they would have agreed to anything that I proposed. I went off to do something and on my way back I noticed that one of the group was busy siphoning some diesel out of the fuel tank of my lorry, which was an old ex-army three-ton truck. I was annoyed about this but I had to remember that for important and valuable clients, you need to be prepared for this kind of thing.
From here, I was back at University and it was the first day back. We were all in a huge group sprawled over a great big bed and other groups of people were dressing up in disguise or in some kind of prop, swarming over the University grounds. One or two were heading our way so I had to warn our people that they were coming. No-one was taking any notice however and this was annoying me (my bad mood seemed to spread all through my rambles during the night) so in the end I lashed the head of the bed with a length of chain. Even so, although this did lead to people beginning to talk, it didn’t have the effect of galvanising them into action and I was quite disappointed, if not totally fed up, of all of this.

First off this morning, I had to give a blood sample and the nurse had an enormous amount of difficulty trying to find any. But then, as you know, she’s not the only one who has had difficulty doing it. And then I had to wait.

And wait

And wait.

And then the blood came round at about 11:15 and we started off the transfusion. I’m to have two pochettes apparently (so this is going to be another all-dayer and we’ll see about whether I’ll be able to leave today).

But the Professor and the Doctor came to see me. The plan seems to be that I can leave after the transfusion, and go to this guest room in town. I need to come back in a week for another blood test, and then again in two weeks time for another go at chemotherapy. If this all works, then I’ll need chemo every month and I might maybe no longer need any blood transfusions. And won’t that cheer me up too!

But I’ve been led up the garden path before, so I’ll believe it when I see it.

However, to my surprise, the transfusion was over by 15:00 and by 15:30, armed with a date for a further appointment and a prescription for the gout from which I seem to be suffering (and which was missed by Montlucon, apparently) I was heaved out into the unsuspecting public.

I picked up a few things from Caliburn, moved him around the car park to make sure that it looks as if he’s in regular use, and then caught the bus into town. Four or five stops away, Sint Pieter’s Hospital is, and that’s where I’ll be staying for two weeks. It’s basic and primitive, but quite clean and reasonable comfortable, and €20:00 per night including breakfast, so you’ll hear no complaints from me.

But check-in isn’t until 17:30 so I left my luggage behind in the office and went for a walk because that was quite clearly a big mistake. I came over all queer after about 15 minutes and had to retrace my steps to the hospital where I crashed out in a chair in the waiting room.

Once I had been admitted to my room (which is, as you might expect, room 13) I crashed out and that was that. The strain is clearly telling on me these days.

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Thursday 7th April 2016 – WHY DO I ALWAYS …

… seem to be given the perishing room-mate who snores? There I was at 05:30 still not able to drop off to sleep.

But I must have gone off at some time or another because I was on my travels again. I started off trying to make some sandwiches with white bread but every time I went to spread anything onto the bread, it tore the bread away from the crust and after a while that started to annoy me greatly. I decided to go out for more bread but I needed someone to do some baby-sitting for me while I was out (don’t ask me why) and just at this moment a young girl – someone who has featured once or twice in our nocturnal rambles – came along. My idea was to grab hold of her to stand in for me but she was rather uncatchable, discreetly drifting away every time I tried to ask her to help out. But in the end off I went, in an old early base-model Mark I Ford Cortina 2-door, dark blue. MY route took me up a track at the back of some houses, through the daffodils, only to find my way blocked by an old car that I hadn’t noticed, so I had to retrace my steps.
A while later, I found myself in France again and I’d been following this trailer with an old car on it – a Peugeot 203. This was taken off the trailer and pushed up an overgrown lane to where there were another two of them. I couldn’t stop there as it was on the side of a hill, quite exposed and with bad bends, so I parked up in the nearby village and set out to walk back. even though it was a Sunday, there were hordes of people about and I wanted things to be much more quiet than this but I just couldn’t escape the people. I lost my way in the village and was surrounded by curious onlookers and I couldn’t find my way to these cars. Most of the people were British and there was clearly something going on of which I didn’t like the look at all – a drugs deal or other criminal activity maybe and this was an uncomfortable place to be. And somewhere along the line, this girl appeared in it again.
And yet another while later, I was in a car with, having made a dramatic reappearance, this same young girl. We were watching these British people and they were making a film – something like one of the 1970s “Cops and Robbers” dramas on British TV. This involved a car chase – the part in which she was interested – and so was I when I saw that the car being chased was a gorgeous Daytona Yellow Ford Taunus – the model from 1973-76. It was the most beautiful car of its type that I had seen for years and I had my heart set on it but I knew in my bones exactly what was going to happen to it – and I was right too. They slammed it right into the external corner of a wall and put a huge V-shaped dent in the front of it. I was furious and leapt out of the car calling them all kinds of names and in the end, after the chase had passed by, I man-handled the Taunus onto my trailer, which just happened to be attached to the back of my car. I asked this girl what her plans were for tomorrow and she told me that she “had to go to check out a scene for the Sweeney” – one of the aforementioned “Cops and Robbers” programmes and I took it to mean that she had to go and look at a location to see if it would be suitable for filming. I thought to myself that she isn’t half having some interesting and important tasks for a girl of her age.

But it’s amazing in a way that the same person can appear in all three parts of my little voyage during the night, and that I was of the opinion that it was all interconnected in some way. It’s not the first time that I’ve stepped out of a little nocturnal ramble only to step right back into it later at more-or-less the same place.

Anyway, after this, I did finally go back off to sleep and I remember being off again, but being awoken at 07:30 so that they can take a blood sample, well before you’re back in the land of the living, means that wherever I went has gone forever.

We had the cleaner coming along quite early and she showed quite clearly that she must have studied under Hattie Jacques. It must have been the turn of our room to have “the works” because she went over it from top to bottom, to such a thorough extent that Hattie Jacques would have been quite impressed. I kept to my bed while she was at it. That seemed to be the safest course.

I had a whole stream of visitors – nurses, doctors, Professors and the like. And each one told me a different story about my stay here. But one thing became clear, and that was that my blood count isn’t so good. The transfusion that I had the other day brought the count up to just 8.1. That’s close to the critical amount of 8.0 and so they are proposing another blood transfusion to bring it up to something more like it.

First off though, was to have more chemotherapy. They’ve decided that I’m fit enough to have a second helping of that before they give me more blood and so they made the necessary arrangements. And remembering how things unfolded last time, they took it slowly. That meant that they didn’t finish it until about 18:30, by which time it was too late to do the blood transfusion and throw me out.

That disappointed me – it means that I’ll have to stay here for yet another night and go without sleep once more. It’s ruined my day completely, the effects of last night without sleep because I’ve been drifting in and out of sleep all day and I’ve not really been able to accomplish anything that I’ve set out to do. How I dream for a good night’s sleep and a proper day of some kind of effort.

Not only that, OH Leuven were at home to White Star Brussels this evening. I’ve never seen Leuven play, but the last time that I saw White Star, they had about 200 supporters and a brass band. I was looking forward to going this evening, but I’ve had to rule that out which has annoyed me greatly.

Alison came by the visit too. Her cousin had some over for a short stay so she had been to pick her up at the railway station. On their way back, they came to visit, bringing a few edible bits and pieces with them and they will go down quite nicely.

So now everyone has finished what they are doing and we are supposed to be settling down for the night. But fat chance of that with my neighbour rattling off like he is. I’m thoroughly fed up of this, I can tell you.

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Wednesday 6th April 2016 – THE BEST-LAID SCHEMES …

… of mice and men gang aft agley, as Rabbie Burns once wrote. And how right he was. I reckoned that I lasted maybe for 5 minutes of my film before crashing out.

I was only awoken three times during the night – once by the usual need to take a stroll down the corridor, the second which was by one of the nurses who wanted to take my temperature, and the third time my a nurse asking me if I was okay. And had my reactions been any quicker, she would have had a pillow in the face as well. GRRRR!

But during the night I’d been looking at old cars for sale. I’d come across a garage that sold classic cars and my eye was caught by a maroon Wolseley 1300 (the same as Nerina used to have, except that hers was Black Tulip) that was for sale at €1,883. But I ended up playing in a rock band once more with Hans and also with a female on drums. We were playing at a concert up on the Chester road, slightly north of the Bluestones traffic lights near Acton (and we’ve been here before) and warming up, we played an impromptu blues number that I made up on the spot, called “I’m the accused”. Of course, the word “accused” is one of the easiest words in the English language to rhyme – there are so many other words that go with it, but it was still impressive that I could write a whole song “off the cuff” while actually performing it. And if I could write music, I’d write it down because I can still remember it even now.

And so the morning came round quick enough and I was soon tucking into breakfast. And with a sweet smile, I was even able to negotiate a second pot of coffee. I then had a shower (which made me feel so much better after yesterday) and a blood sample.

The blood sample wasn’t so easy though. They tried to take it out of the drain in my arm but for some reason that had become blocked. In the end, they had to take out the drain, fit another one in the other arm and take the sample from there.

An hour or so later they were back. “Your blood count is only 7.3, so we need to give you a transfusion today”
“So what was if before I had the transfusion on Monday?”
“6.5”
No wonder I was feeling like death in Givet last weekend.

We then had some amusement with the cleaner too. Doing her best to speak English to me (and I will never ever mock anyone’s attempts to speak a foreign language), she said “you must stay on your bed when I’m cleaning. It’s dangerous when I’m around”
“I know the feeling” I replied. “People often say that it’s dangerous when I’m around too”.

I found some time (although not very much) to start to write up the notes of my Canada 2014 voyage – I really need to get cracking with this – but it ground to a halt at about 15:00 when they came to give me more chemotherapy. This time, they took their time and it was soooooooo slowwwwwwwwwww. The blood came next and that needed to be heated to 41°C so they had a bizarre kind of coil heater machine to do it.

Foolish me should have gone to the bathroom at that moment because the blood transfusion was even slower. It crawled along and wasn’t finally over until 23:00, by which time I was bursting.

It meant that there was no chance whatever of me leaving the hospital today so I’m in for another night. And my neighbour is snoring like a pneumatic road-drill. It looks as if it’s going to be on of THOSE nights.

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Thursday 31st March 2016 – TODAY’S THE DAY …

… when I might learn something about my state of health and whether the Hospital at Leuven will do something about it.

But before I can think about that, I have other fish to fry. Hans is coming back from Zeebrugge this morning and we’ve agreed to meet up at the Motorway serviced just down the road from here for breakfast.

I was up early and off out to fahr’n fahr’n fahr’n down the autobahn about 3 miles to the service station where I waited.

And waited.

And then I had a phone call – “just pulling into the Services now – it was Tienen, wasn’t it?” as a matter of fact, it wasn’t. I was at Heverlee and so a quick thrash down the motorway brought me to Tienen and breakfast.

We had a good chat for a few hours and then I had to return to Alison’s, for she was intending to run me into the hospital, which was very nice of her and something that I appreciated a great deal.

First port of call was for a blood test. And sure enough, my blood count has gone quite down. It was 9.1 the last time I was here, but now it’s down to 7.8. That’s set a few alarm bells ringing at the hospital, make no mistake.

The doctor who saw me asked me quite a few questions and gave me a good examination, and then summoned her Professor – the kind of thing that always makes me feel better. But the news that I received deflated me rather rapidly. It seems that the Hospital here at Leuven thinks that I have a different type of lymphoma than that diagnosed by Montlucon. They didn’t understand the need for the removal of the spleen and, in agreement with the opinion of the District Nurses who have been visiting me at Liz and Terry’s, they don’t understand why I need to have these anti-coagulant injections and think that they might be doing more harm than good. The first week or so, yes. But today it’s long-beyond the bounds of necessity and I can stop immediately.

As for treatment, they propose a course of Chemotherapy. There are two types of this – a standard type that is the most common and which is recommended in 99% of cases. There is another type – about 10 times more expensive (and so it’s not reimbursed by the Belgian authorities) and 10 times more effective. And this is what they propose for me – a course of treatment that might last for as long as 6 months and they intend to start it on Monday morning. Furthermore, it has been reimbursed by my Medical Insurance in the past in other cases, and someone from the Social Services department of the hospital will be coming to see me on Monday to “help me” make the application for this treatment. Yes, not backwards at coming forwards, here at Leuven.

They aren’t sure how this is going to pan out though. I’ll be treated as an out-patient but I need to spend a few days recovering from each session. I’ve told them that I’ve nowhere to go to stay (I can’t keep on relying on other people’s generosity) so they told me that there is some guest accommodation at the hospital. The Social Services department will help me here too, to see if I qualify for a place.

And so here we are. I had my operation on 27th January and since then, nothing much has happened at Montlucon with regard to my illness. Here at Leuven, they have a decision within 9 days and propose a course of treatment starting in 4 days time.

It’s very easy to say, with hindsight, that it was the wrong decision to allow Montlucon to go ahead with the removal of the spleen, but there was a good chance that it might have worked and I was worried about any further delay. Had I known that the treatment would begin less than two weeks after my first visit, maybe I might have thought differently. And then again, Leuven has had access to all of the tests and analyses carried out by Montlucon which aided quite considerably the speed of the diagnosis. How long would I have had to have waited for all of this?

We went shopping afterwards to a Charity Shop rather on the style of a Canadian Value Village. Loads of interesting furniture, including a lovely coffee table that, when cleaned and polished, would look lovely in my little house. But all of this is a long way away.

Anyway, I’m off for the weekend. I’ll find a river somewhere and lodge myself in there for a few days to relax. I need it.

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Tuesday 22nd March 2016 – TODAY’S THE DAY …

… that I have my defining interview at the Universiteit Ziekenhuis Leuven – the University Hospital of Leuven.

And so this morning I was up fairly early, bumping into Alison on the way downstairs.

I’d been back on my travels during the night too. Back to the UK in fact. There I was, rushing to catch a train at what was supposed to be Stafford railway station and my brother was there with me and he was holding me back by trying to have a discussion with me, talking to me about all kinds of stuff and I was rushing to catch this train and I wished that he would shut up and let me get on with it. Next to get in my way was a plant seller going on about how we all ought to buy plants and how everyone in the USA ought to learn gardening and all of this kind of thing and I wished that he would shut up too. There was then some American with a small wicker basket full of growing plants and a British guy was there with an almost-identical basket of plants that he had bought somewhere for just 3p more. And as I rushed for the train, a train was pulling in so I burst into the station and towards the stairs but then I realised that I didn’t have a ticket so I had to run off to buy one for Crewe. And then I ran down the stairs to the platform where the train was standing – a train of old-stock maroon coaches. The guard was leaning out of the window of a first-class carriage saying that it was full in there and then he stepped down from the train to a group of his colleagues led by a young female platform manager. I asked if this train was going to Crewe to which they replied that it was going to Birmingham which is of course in the opposite direction. But there was another train pulling in behind and the guard suggested that this might be the one. I asked the female manager if this was the London train (even more in the opposite direction to Crewe) and she came out with a sarcastic comment. I told her to stop making these witty remarks designed to do nothing but bring a smile tothe face of her sycophants and answer my question. And there I was, wanting to go on to Crewe and no-one would tell me which train I wanted to go to Crewe.

Alison had taken a day off work to look after me, which was very nice of her, so after breakfast we went into the centre of Leuven for a look around and a coffee. It’s been years since I’d been there and I couldn’t remember the place all that much, but Alison knew of a café where they served decent coffee so that did us fine for the morning, just chatting and watching the world go by.

At lunchtime, seeing as we were in Belgium, there’s only one place to be and sure enough, we soon found a fritkot. That would do us fine and it goes without saying that the chips were beautiful.

As for the hospital, it’s absolutely HUGE, and I do mean that. So much so that you could fit the hospital in Montlucon into the foyer and instead of having a trolley park like they do in a supermarket, they have wheelchair parks where you can borrow a wheelchair.

I had to be registered, which took ages, but at least everything was properly explained to me, not like Montlucon. They even gave me a brochure and I had a choice of language – Flemish, French and English.

“Follow the blue line” said the receptionist once she had finished with me, and about two hours and three miles later we arrived at another reception desk. My documents had arrived by internal intranet quicker than I had arrived on foot so I was told to take a seat in the waiting area. This was the corridor facing a row of doors which were the consulting rooms – 15 in all, which is a massive improvement on Montlucon.

I was summoned into n°13, which I found rather ominous, and I presented my papers. Not all of them, I have to say, because I was selective in what I let them see. Anything that might have prejudged the issue, I selectively held back as I don’t want the results from Montlucon to influence their minds. They can see all of the scans and all of the reports and all of the examinations, but nothing that suggests a diagnosis. I want them at Leuven to make their own diagnosis.

But I did let them see a letter which I personally think is quite infamous and which has annoyed me greatly. It’s a letter from the surgeon to my own doctor saying “the operation is a success and there are no after-effects to consider. Mr Hall can slowly pick up his former life bit by bit, the only constraints being the effects of his severe anaemia”.

That’s right – the only thing that is holding me back is my severe anaemia, and that’s what I went into the hospital for in the first place, and there’s no mention of them now looking for a cure for it. It’s as if they have abandoned hope of dealing with it, and that has upset me enormously. Hence my visit to Leuven.

As expected, the doctor picked up immediately on this, and was also totally confused about my 3.8 blood count. “Do they measure the blood on a different scale in France?”. But when I reassured her, she too was horrified by my problem.

After a good hour there of tests and examinations and questions (and a blood test) she excused herself, saying “I’ll have to go and have a word with my professor”. And that filled me full of optimism. You wouldn’t get this in Montlucon. And when she came back, we had a discussion and a debate, and the result is exactly the result that I wanted. I could have been detained for two or three days there, which I didn’t really want. I could have been told to go home, and come back in three weeks (or maybe not at all) qhich I am, quite frankly, not up to. But instead, they took all my papers away to read and told me to come back on 31st March at 15:30. That’s exactly what I wanted and it means that I can have a nice relaxing week by the seaside.

Alison and I then came home via the scenic route and after another lengthy chat – that took us up to about 22:30, I went off to my attic and to bed.

So why, I hear you ask, have I chosen Leuven for a second opinion?

There are a variety of reasons and I’ll do my best to explain them.

The first of which is that France, like many countries in the world (including the UK and the USA, before anyone says anything) is very chauvinistic. If I were to ask my doctor to recommend someone for a second opinion, he would probably send me to someone whom he knew in a neighbouring hospital. That’s no good, because he would only have had the same training and experience as my doctor.

The hospital at Leuven is huge, as I have said. It’s a teaching hospital – a University Hospital – so it’s constantly at the forefront of the latest news and development in medical treatment. It will(I hope) know everything about new discoveries and techniques long before the news filters down to a small rural hospital in France.

Alison was treated successfully for a very serious illness, as were a couple of other people whom she knows, and I’ve heard good things about it from my time in Brussels.

Furthermore, my experience is that the Belgians are much more cosmopolitan than most people in the world. They have no false chauvinistic national pride as such and so it’s much more likely to be the place that, if they can’t help me with my problem, a doctor would say “well, I heard about this illness being treated successfully in Los Angeles or Vladivostok”, without a hint of misplaced national pride. And with my medical insurance, I can travel the world looking for treatment.

Of course, having said that, I bet that it won’t work out at all like that. But it’s clear that Montlucon isn’t working and I’m going nowhere there. I have this medical insurance that entitles me to treatment anywhere and so I may as well make use of it. I’d be silly not to. And here in Leuven, I can speak the language after a fashion (and after a week here, I’ll speak it better too and I love the Flemish language) so all in all, it’s the ideal place for me to take my first step on the road to what is likely to be a very long and interesting journey.

And, of course, I’m amongst friends too and that’s very important. I may not have many friends but quantity is not important, it’s quality and I have some of the best friends that anyone could wish for, as events since November have proved.

Where would I be without you?

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