The Party Bag

After the car park gridlock, and the missed Jammy Dodgers, chemo 3 followed the regular plan. Apart from the tea and biscuits. I’m still getting over that. I made the rest of the ward suffer by ordering an egg sandwich for lunch. Next time they won’t let her leave until I get there.

Checklist of any bad reactions to Chemo 2. “Not really, my head itches like crazy in the 2nd week though”, apparently that’s not usual but no-one looked concerned, less concerned than my family do. They all edge away from me. My boys are well aware of the Nitty Gritty comb, they’re taking no risks. Pat is bald, but wary. “I DON’T have nits, we’d be able to see them..selling teeny tiny copies of The Big Issue”.
“Oh, yes, I do ache. My arms and legs both hurt, especially my hamstrings and shoulders…hang on. No. That’s not chemo, that’s the pilates class I did at Harri’s yesterday. Stand down, bring on the drugs”.
I did mention the injections I have to do at home make my teeth feel like they’re made of rubber. I detest those injections. Have you any idea how hard it is to inject yourself whilst not looking? I should be grateful though, they do..something…to my bone marrow and can often make your bones ache, a short burst of rubber teeth is a bit of a result. I tried to look less disgusted and more grateful. I think I failed spectacularly.

Chemo is cold (they keep it in the fridge), we avoided the stinky wheatbag stomach churn though, I remembered to bring my own hot water bottle. The wheatbags apparently start life smelling of lavender. After a gazillion pings in the microwave they smell like hell. My stomach churns just typing that. After all this is done I’m fundraising to supply old-fashioned hot water bottles to chemo wards everywhere. That tea lady has access to hot water. The cold chemo makes your veins contract, hence the stinky warm bags of yuck to keep them open. <heave>.

Once we were done, I got my party bag. They’re ever so good, I never go home empty handed.
And, as much as I bitch and moan, I love our NHS. Please save our NHS. We’ll all (mostly) be a bit buggered at some point without it.

Here, not sugary snacks, just lifesaving science, Harri’s fab pilates book and lovely tulips from one of my best friends. They’re beautiful and hide a little of the chaos in the background. An excellent party bag haul. I drank the Guinness. It’s allowed.

Hmmm, no cake. Someone send cake!



7 Replies to “The Party Bag”

  1. Brilliant Fiona. I can still smell the wheat bags. Hideous and I would be the one putting them in the microwave.


  2. Never mind the blog…who is the young man in the card behind the flowers.? I don’t remember pat looking like that at school.


  3. I do believe we have one of those wheatbags. Will not donate it! I will donate something that will bring a more acceptable sensory experience however! Say the word. X


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