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.

The Opium Den

For the past couple of days I've been feeling rotten, again. Do I have a cold? (Arghghghgh! Will I miss my chemo?) Do I have SAD? It's been raining and raining and raining and raining and raining and. . . (Nick says only 3 days.) I took to bed. Sulking.

Today Nick figured out the problem. For a couple of weeks now, I've not needed my top-up morphine -- not enough pain -- but I've been taking the 20 mg slow-release pills, anyway. A few days ago I ran out and they require a special prescription. Not only do I need a special prescription, my doctors can't get it together about who gives me what, so I haven't been taking any morphine at all. Withdrawal symptoms, anyone? Never let the hospital tell you you're on too small a dose to have a problem. I got a new supply yesterday and started on halves about an hour ago. Hello world.

Saw the urologist. He went on about my kidneys (which are still O.K.) I said my major problem was my bladder and the infection. That may be your major problem, he said, but my major problem is your kidneys. The look on his face was both horrifying and priceless when I told him how long I'd had the catheter and it hadn't been changed. And it wasn't working, anyway. So it's out!!!! I have these little self-service units called intermittent catheters which I don't seem to need much. Mine's the green model.

When the urologist sent me upstairs to get the Rx from the oncologist, we had a longish wait in the waiting room. The lunch trolley came by and they asked if I wanted to eat. "Oh, I'm not here for treatment," I said, "just for a consultatation." But there was a tray with my name on it (they must not have realised it's my off week), so Nick and I had salad, veal steak, buttered macaroni, goat's cheese, bread and peach compote for lunch. LOL!!