My second chemotherapy session. Drip plugged into my left hand and away we go. Three hours of pretty chemo drugs going in topped up with bone strengthening zometa.
My sister successfully completing a gargantuan drive through the worst The Beast From The East had to offer.
Welcome hot drinks and biscuits served as the drugs flowed in. Then a generous lunch of soup, ham sandwich and jelly and ice cream. Then another warm and welcome cup of tea.
Then the inevitable happened. Fifty year old man waning lots of liquids means an inevitable outcome. Please can I go for a wee nursey?
Safely unplugged from the mains I took my drip to the nearest disabled loo. After spending a minute mastering the lock, I headed to the porcelain. It’s in the left corner. The drip is on my left hand. The internal pressure is building.
Somehow I strategically placed the drip behind me and took the necessary action to prepare for action rom alight sideways trajectory. At which point I realised I couldn’t hold the appropriate item with my left hand. Right handed is a little unstable, but here goes. Sweet relief and unexpectedly good aim. Then an unexpected turn of events.
A number two requirement. Constipation from painkillers has made this a rare event of late. But my body was giving me a clear story. It’s time to go. I turned around, moving the still connected drip across the floor before carefully lowering myself into position. A short but successful event brought an internal cheer. Then the next problem.
I am at risk of infection. Washing my hands is important. I’ve been quite thorough in this requirement but without ripping out the medical implements in my left hand I’m going to have to achieve a reduced version. And don’t rub the hands too vigorously or disconnection is a real possibility!
In the end, all was achieved that needed to be achieved. But it was bloody difficult to do and they took a good twenty minutes to plug the machine back in when I returned to my seat.
I was offered another cuppa before the drugs started flowing again!