It’s fair to say I feel pretty rough. The pelvic tumour has continued rumbling in the absence of any direct attack and the painkillers continue to leave me pretty wasted. That latter feeling creates a cant be bothered approach to life and apathy to medical treatment.
Fortunately my sister is still on it, and got me to my Huddersfield eye appointment today. This time they managed to dispense the sprays and ointments intended and eye doctor number three got quite excited when I mentioned eighteen months.
It seems that’s the trigger for further options. Perhaps the weight on the eye to retain vision but reduce dryness.
Apparently I’ve been added to a list for appointment. It’s never quite smooth with the NHS. But I left feeling somebody actually gave a flying **** about my eye having been wide open since October 2016. How quickly this appointment will materialise, who knows. How quickly they can weight my eye, who knows. Whether I’ll still have any life left in me, who knows. I don’t see any desire in the system to prioritise the terminally ill for other treatments.
My sister Helen drives me home. Briefs me on next Thursday’s cancer meeting which I’m doing solo, highlighting the different treatment options and anticipating and possible obstacles. She offers to feed me but my body can’t think of anything worse than being fed. That’ll be the untreated cancer. Another week before they decide what to do. I hope I want food at some stage between now and then!
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