Thanks Lester. Good to see you mate.

I wrote this a little while back when I was having chemotherapy, so it proceeds last week. It’s also before I had a portacath fitted, so I’ll moan about the cannula. 




You couldn’t make up The Christie. Well, not as a hospital you couldn’t. A strange sprawling building in the middle of the massively middle class and hipster Didsbury. I imagine that there are a few evil, tentacled property developers that would love to get their suckers on the place and develop the land whilst building a “more modern and comfortable hospital, a shining beacon of the benefits of public/private partnerships” on the outskirts of the city. Or at least beginning the development before the shell company declares bankruptcy, handing back the keys of the muddy field and portaloo to the government, leaving us to drink muddy water or rub ourselves briskly with stained KPI reports to cure our respective ills.



Sorry, I digress, The Christie Is plainly the result of dozens and dozens of attempts to make the building more modern whilst trying to stay inside its existing footprint, in fact, it is the physical embodiment of most of us cancer patients....not looking so bad from the outside, some parts positively spot on, but a little bit worn inside, with the odd bit requiring taping off for a while whilst someone goes to work on it.



I like it here. The nurses are funny and comforting, optimistic, and bear the weight of the sadness, the regret and the pity in the day case ward on their shoulders with an amused elegance and sincerity that comes from their years of experience, or the naivety of inexperience. I’m fitted with a cannula eventually, the nurses taking a couple of attempts as apparently I have, “the veins of a small child.” (You have no idea how hard it is to not respond to this with a completely inappropriate comment referencing Madeline McCann), and we are ready to go after multiple confirmations of my name, address, inside leg measurement, and level of sexual gratification of my last three girlfriends. I know they do this to confirm that the label on the drugs matches me, but I’ve often amused myself with the thought that somewhere, there is a lunatic that gets their sexual kicks from bundling chemo patients into a wardrobe, donning a jaunty disguise and having their chemo pumped into them whilst being looked after by sympathetic nurses.



As I’ve mentioned, I’m very fortunate to be in the little private bit of the hospital, so it’s a little more polished than the other sections. The food here on the day ward is awesome (salmon, burgers, selections of open sandwiches, cake,etc) which is really just a cruel trick. A little bit like an ancient torture, poison you until you feel continuous underlying nausea, and your tongue can only make out ‘metal’ as a valid taste, then offer you an a la carte lunch menu to dine from, (“I’ll have the plain cheese sandwich please and a flat glass of coke.”).



As the day goes on, we come and go, other patients shuffle in with their partners to share sandwiches, talk about shopping, the cousins in New Zealand travelling over and window boxes. There are children with ageing parents, happy/sad to be able to repay an infant’s debt. Some swivel eyed patriot tries to engage me in a conversation about brexit. “The jokes on you mate, you’re not going to be around to see all that control being taken back.”



Saving me from Mr. Wetherspoons, today, an old mate pops in and says hello. Unfortunately, his ex wife is ill, so he’s brought her in as a day case on the NHS day ward. Julia comes after lunch from work and we share the afternoon, the kids are at after school club, and we’ll pick them up later on, then go have dinner. If it wasn’t for the cancer, that would be a really lovely day.



If it wasn’t for the cancer.

Indeed. You should keep a sort of diary like that Mos. Your words accompanied by photos would be a wonderful thing for your friends and family to have.

That's really nice, if nice is the word. I mean, focusing on something like the writing, I guess.

I've tried, but I can't think of anything worthy enough to say.

But luckily these five fine fellas above have already summed it up excellently.

Ah Mos. That was too beautiful to have to be about dealing with cancer. Fuck.

Thanks Mostly, for the read

Fuck know what it is but, for the last two days, I've had a headache, my sense of balance has been right off, all my limbs are heavy and using my hands is hard (many typos have been corrected in this post).

Internet suggests either I'm drunk (I'm not, as far as I know), stressed (I shouldn't be; I'm on holiday and the only thing bothering me, more than the usual, is my Joy-Cons) or I've got meningitis.

That could just as easily be a bad cold, mild flu, or just generally being a bit run down. Or, fuck it, could be labrynthitis from your description. WHO KNOWS?

8 inches of swelling.

Dinostar77 wrote:

AJ no idea how old you are mate, are you getting pins and needles in your forearms?

36 and no.

Like pop says, it could be anything. I'm sure it'll clear up soon enough. If not, it's off to the doctor's for be.

Labrynthitis has a cool name, though, so I I'm kinda hoping that, if it's anything, it's that now.

Give your head a wobble m8

AJ wrote:

Fuck know what it is but, for the last two days, I've had a headache, my sense of balance has been right off, all my limbs are heavy and using my hands is hard (many typos have been corrected in this post).

Internet suggests either I'm drunk (I'm not, as far as I know), stressed (I shouldn't be; I'm on holiday and the only thing bothering me, more than the usual, is my Joy-Cons) or I've got meningitis.

Thought most common symptom of meningitis is a stiff neck. If you seriously think it could be that, go to a doctor.

Are your ears blocked? I get a lot of dizzy related annoyances, never found out what caused it. Only time I was able to do something about it, in stead of waiting, was using nose spray. I drank quite a bit the night before, had to work the day after. Felt fine in the morning, but after an hour of two it felt like my brain was in a laundry machine. Boss suggested using nose spray (I've tried a lot of them, doctor kept prescribing different ones, they never helped) and I was fine within an hour. Didn't expect that, but was happy that it did. Had to close the store that day as my boss was going for a triathlon in the afternoon. Would have felt really bad if I messed that up.

I'm getting close to blaming the moon. Every time I had a more severe dizzy day, I found a Facebook post from someone who I went to high school with (teaches yoga now) about how special they moon was that week and how it can disturb your energy and all that.

Crowd sourced diagnoses over the Internet. Is there nothing we can't do on B&B?

WorKid wrote:

Crowd sourced diagnoses over the Internet. Is there nothing we can't do on B&B?

I bet Tin’s reading this and cringing.

I am better at psychoanalysis.