Through the Mill - But Out Safely

I am not really sure what happened with the whole blood count thing and I don't think anybody is, but it is the result that counts.

Whether someone was praying with utter conviction to God, to Allah or holding hands naked in a circle around Stonehenge chanting "Swordfish, Swordfish, Swordfish", I don't know but the rise in white blood count was dramatic by any standards and the rise in haemoglobin to the "break even" point was equally odd.

There was more to the day than I previously articulated because when I woke up this morning my back had gone again (the last time was at the beginning of this process when I was redeemed by the mad Canadian osteopath).  I couldn't sit this morning for shooting pains from my knees to the top of my head but, fortunately, I was able to lie down for the radiotherapy treatment.

The radiotherapy unit is only two years old and has clearly been very well designed in look, feel and function.  It is underground but feels light and airy and is full of straight lines and sweeping curves.  It looks absolutely spotless and, like the rest of the hospital, has exceptional staff.  In short it looks like a place of healing should do.

So in I walk.......

Everything about the process is explained clearly and when I walk into the treatment area it looks space age and its populace is four uniformed women.  I am sure that I can hear "The Girl from Ipanema" piping through the sound system and padding of Kitten's feet just outside the door.

But oh, hang on a minute, I am here to have X-Rays shot through my lungs and hammer a rather large tumour in my oesophagus.

No word of a lie though, when the meticulous process of lining me up for treatment by the machine that rotates 360 degrees around my body has finished the treatment starts to the accompaniment of Abba "Take a Chance on me" piping through the sound system.  There was a backlit blue sky and tree picture to look at on the ceiling too.

My back held it together for the 20 mins or so and that is as good as the day got.

I was feeling nauseas all day, which is very unusual for this stage of the process.  It can perhaps be linked to a combination of not having eaten much this morning, the disruption caused by the back problem and also the fact that, on chemo, I cannot stand the smell of the hospital.  As soon as I smell it I see bags of chemotherapy drugs and can feel and taste their slow "drip drip drip".

Chemo was at 3pm so Kitten and I came back to the house and I tried to get some "scram" down me to mask the nausea.  Unfortunately, it didn't work and I walked straight into the hospital, straight into the toilets and was ill.

As soon as the chemotherapy process started when the saline went in I was ill again.  The nurses were really gentle with me, but this wasn't the same man (or Swordfish) who breezed through nine and a half hours of chemo on his first outing.

I managed to hold it together for the rest of the process but came home looking greener than the finest welsh leek.

I've since had a good sleep and am back to reasonable form.

Once again, I have gone from saying how good I felt the other day right into a bit of turbulence, but I have got the right result and that is all I care about.

Kitten was a superstar today and she even tolerated me doing a couple of things for work despite hardly talking to her all day!

Thanks to everyone for the good vibes.

Now I hope that my back can hold out until its erstwhile saviour (the mad Canadian) is back in town.