That’s right, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed … "well, yes" – ed … here in the hospital, ready for my final session of mapthera.
And bright-eyed and bushy-tailed I ought to have been too, because I was asleep relatively early too. Not that it did me much good of course, because round about 01:00 we had a party of fellow-residents returning from a night out in the town and they certainly let everyone know that they were back.
Not only that, I had a nightmare too! How long is it since I had one of those? Things are definitely being rather depressing around here right now if that’s the level to which I seem to have sunk.
An early start and a reasonable breakfast in the bright morning sum did much to restore my morale and then after a little relax to gather up my wits, not that it takes too long these days … "you said that the other day" – ed … I set off for the long trudge up the hill to the hospital.
I was here early too, and soon installed in a nice room by a couple of my favourite nurses (but not the cute and sweet Tara as yet). It’s nice to be on my usual ward with everyone so friendly and helpful. And I had a new doctor too. It looks as if Hermione is now a thing of the past. No more Ericus Reparo.
And we’ve had some very bad news too. They took my blood count and it is DOWN – from 12.0 to 11.0. It’s true to say that 3 months ago I would have happily settled for 11.0 and gone home smiling and whistling, but not after I’ve been up as high as 12.0. Here I was, thinking that I was out of the woods. It seems however that I have merely moved into different woods.
On the other hand, they have now made a formal announcement of the illness that I have. It seems that I have Waldenströhm’s disease (I should have kept well-clear of Waldenströhm, I suppose). It’s quite rare, which is probably why they were having issues with dealing with it at Montlucon, but then again it’s not as if I’m likely to have anything plebeian, is it?
They talk about vision loss, which as regular readers of this rubbish will recall is something that I have mentioned frequently over the last year or so, and a change in mental state. Well, you can all make up your own minds about that one.
They also say that it’s incurable, and that there’s a life expectancy of between 5 and 11 years (now, of course, 4 and 10 years) and I don’t like the sound of any of that at all. But as far as you lot are concerned, at least it gives you all some kind of idea of how long you have to suffer theremaider of this rubbish that I churn out.
I had all of the antidotes and calmants and stuff like that, and then I had the mapthera. That didn’t take too long and by 17:00 I was all done and dusted, having had an hour or so away with the fairies meantime. Now I have to wait the 18 hours to check for the side-effects, and I do hope that my room-mate doesn’t snore. And I suppose that he’s hoping that I don’t cough.
Now here’s a thing. In the absence of the cute and sweet Tara, I’m being attended to by the just-as-cute and just-as-sweet Evie. And she wants to know why it is that whenever she takes my blood pressure, it’s always higher than when the other nurses take it.
Ordinarily, I would tell her – but not when my room-mate is listening and the door to my room is open.
