Quick Visit

In and out of hospital for three days.  With my usual habit of telling myself "jack" stories, I'd managed to convince myself that my back was O.K., but my kidneys were going.  Probably the catheter was killing me.

I pissed off the doctors and nurses by refusing all pain meds except paracetamol, but I'm not cut out to be a morphine addict.   It takes weeks to get rid of the mouth and throat dryness and the after taste of withdrawal. 


Scans and x-rays showed nothing wrong with my kidneys, so I guess it is my back, again. Monday evening I'm interviewing a new GP; I'll ask for physio.

I'm still too tired to do anything except get dressed, but yesterday we had the yearly lunch with our neighbours where we used to live in Rémuzat.  Six hours at the lunch table and we were the second people -- only -- to leave.  I ate more than I've eaten for 3 weeks and promptly threw most of it up.  It had tasted good going down, though.

In fact, the food was so magnificent (cooked by a Belgian neighbour and his wife) that we are sworn to not discuss the meal -- to avoid a real estate rush, everyone wanting to live in La Combe and pushing property prices up.  (Yes sirree, the wine was flowing.)  This would  be good news only to the people who bought our house and  are now selling to return to the bright lights of Brussels.

A couple of friends who were there were supposed to visit today, but are suffering the aftermath.  Evidently the "lunch" didn't break up until 10:30.

I'm blogging, I'm blogging

Well first, I forgot to tell you about the human fly.

During my last treatment, I noticed a guy standing on the balcony of an adjacent wing of the hospital. Another guy was standing on the balcony around the corner. Then he stopped standing and started climbing. I asked the nurse if this was normal. She said they're working on the new wing, which the oncology unit is moving into in the spring.

Current unit looks all right to me, but I lived for 13 years with English hospitals: Victorian, haven't been cleaned since, light bulbs not replaced, trash unbagged and piled in corners, food delivered down the corridors in tractor-type vehicles -- that have been driven OUTSIDE. I am not making this up.

My legs are going down quite nicely. My feet no longer look like baloons, my legs no longer look exactly like they came from a piano stool, but I still have these golf balls on my ankles. Rats!

Saw the Lyon oncologist on Monday. He was happy with the progress I reported, too. A 5-hour drive for a 10-minute consultation. We decided that the catheter may have to come out as it isn't working very well, anyway, but I don't see the urologist until the 21st. Meanwhile it's Big Girl Panties!!

I also have an infection around the catheter; the microbe is proteus. I looked it up, but it's a bit complicated and I haven't had the time to read. Another test tomorrow and a course of antibiotics, I believe. The Valence oncologist actually telephoned and left a message on the answering machine. They talk to me!

One of the things I've been doing is translating the menu for the hotel/restaurant. When I offered, the owner looked slightly offended, but when I told her she was giving away the napkins and tablecloth with the starter (No, not making this up), she thought she'd avail herself of my services.

We got free drinks out of it yesterday evening. "Do you think we should order a second round and pay for it to be polite"? I asked Nick. We did. That one came free, too. So I bought a magazine. The bar is also the local magazine shop.

For the first time since we've been in France, I have bought a couple of new clothes in advance of the changing season and the advance in my weight. Today I bought a purple knit poncho. I've never worn a poncho in my life. Fat clothes. Here's one of my latest outfits: wide-leg trousers to hide the catheter bag; loose tops to hide stomach. Never been so stylish in my life. The point is, though, I don't mind autumn arriving as much as I usually do.

Read slowly. Nick's brother, John (John B. as opposed to John P., sister Sarah's husband) and his wife, Carole, arrive tomorrow from Spain, so I may be even more behind than usual. They're great houseguests and I'm looking forward to it.