Mr Fat and the Oncologist

Before I get on to my day with the Oncologist I should mention that I was back at the dreaded Broomfield Hospital for the CPEX test on Monday 10th June.  If you don't know CPEX is where they attach all those electrodes to your body stick a tube in your mouth and sit you on a pedal machine while they monitor all sorts of crap.  I'd tell you what they were actually monitoring if I knew but it seems to be a secret and I can only guess that it's my heart and lung rhythms!

(c) unknown

The Doctor, Dr W, took me in and introduced me to the technician, and then he left us to it.  The technician wired me up going through the procedure, commenting that once wired up I would be sitting on the machine for three minutes while base lines were established and then the test would start with me pedalling until I got to 60 on the counter and that once I got there I was to maintain that rhythm throughout the test.  He went on to state that it would be a gentle pedal until I got to the 'hill' then the pressure on the pedals would steadily increase as I climbed.  'As you get to the top it will get harder, I've done it', says he, 'but don't worry I'll be cheering you on!

Well, all said and done, I never really noticed any change in the pressure on the pedals and I felt no discomfort or breathlessness at any point during the routine.  At the end he called the Dr back in and they started to look and whisper as they looked at the ten or so graphs that had come up on the large screen.  After a few minutes I asked if all was well and, 'Am I fit for surgery?'  There was one blip on one of the graphs that they were both scratching their heads over but again refused to tell me what they thought it might be or if they thought there was a problem, getting ratty now, again...... and he said that they would need to analyse the results.  I asked, well I don't know do I, if that's not what the computer did with all those graphs and 'how long have you been doing this?

Anyway he asked when and who was my next appointment with. I responded that it was with the

(c) Caremed NZ

Oncologist back at Basildon on the 19th. He said that he would have the results by then and that he would make sure that they were sent to Dr C, and the team at Broomfield.  Needless to say when I arrived at the Oncologist yesterday they had no idea what I was talking about and said that they wouldn't necessarily get those results as those tests were for the surgical team and not the oncology team.  Fine, I can accept that but why then would Dr W say that he would ensure that they were available for me if he had no intention of doing so, getting really rat arsed now.  In the meantime I have had two letters from the Cardio department at Broomfields stating that Dr W has referred me for two further tests, one I can turn up any time for and another where an appointment has been given for 9th July .... Now I fullY accept that these folk are trying to mend my diseased riddled body and it's not their fault, did you get that Dr H, not your fault, that I have cancer.  But if you carry out a test and you find something awry then F*****g tell me what the problem is, I WANT TO KNOW..... don't just refer me for further test without explaining what you did or did not discover during the first test to warrant further tests.

So, on to the Oncologist yesterday.  Met with Dr P her registrar who went through a list of questions and how I had been feeling to date and what symptoms were presenting themselves. Had a wee rant about Broomfields but I don't think she was really that interested as it's just 'not cricket' to be showing any interest when a patient is complaining about colleagues.  Anyway after that she disappeared into the next room and Ishbel and I were left sitting there for about 10 minutes, presumably while she briefed Dr C who came whizzing through the door like a woman possessed (not in a bad way) I suspect she had many patients to see and needed to get through us all as quickly as she could...

(c) Iamnotyourdoctor.blogspot.com

So, she explained that I didn't need to have chemo and I could elect to go straight for surgery but results have shown that of the patients who elected to have chemo and then surgery, no numbers given on totals, that in 5% of the cases, the patients lives were extended by a couple of years.  I could sense Ishbel stiffening up at that little nugget as we sat together.  I asked if I was sitting there as her father and presenting the exact same symptoms, what would she recommend but she refused to answer that questing commenting that it was not their role to recommend but to present the facts and that it was for the patient to decided.  I agree but they are the ones with the training and understanding, much more so than the average patient and there is a lot of information and and it is usually all bad, to take in and I think it is a fare question to ask, so I did again and got the same response.

So I was told the possible benefits of chemo, it may shrink the tumour and make it slightly more easier for the surgical team to get at and remove. On the other hand, it may not!

And then the list of possible side affects , that went on and on and the only one I don't need to worry about is the hair loss!  So I signed the consent forms and now am on the circa three week waiting list before I head to Southend Hospital, at least I am getting to see all of South Essex, to start a 63 day cycle at 21 days per treatment cycle of chemotherapy and maybe by then the numpties at Broomfield will have sorted out what the problem is elsewhere with my heart or lungs or flabby belly and be ready to hack away at the offending little bugger - mind you, having said that I feel great today and I think we might be able to get back to normal and cancel all of these annoying wee hospital interludes.

(c) mouthfromthesouth.com

I have mentioned elsewhere about the gagging problem I have as soon as food enters my mouth and I have been 'learning' just to take the tiniest wee nibble and not each much of anything (apart from Crunchie chocolate bars - just to maintain my fuller figure you understand).  Well last night I couldn't be bothered, and you do know how much I like to cook, and decided to get a takeaway instead.  Sweet and Sour chicken for the boss, never varies bless her, and I decided I would just get some noodles in the hope that they would just slide down, ha, wishful thinking.  As soon as the first small forkful hit my mouth and the first noodle began to ooze its way down my throat the gagging reflex kicked in.  It was the worst one so far and I really thought I wasn't going to survive it as I stumbled towards the bathroom, no idea why as I have felt nausea on and off since this thing started but only actually vomited about three times, and as I got to the hall I hurled and a sticky gooey mess went all over the floor, thank gawd for wooden floors, and I think I may have dislodged the tumour, cos I feel great today, but it was a bit of a bummer at the time and poor Ishbel was as white as a ghost, what a fright she got.


But never mind she went back to her sweet and sour and left me to clean up my own mess, nothing disturbs Ishbel too much when she's eating.  I even asked her to sing Soft Kitty to me and was told to bugger off so I never bothered asking her to rub something on my chest, but at least my interweb Bestie Julia R Barrett sang soft Kitty to me via email later on, Ishbel are you reading that, Jules knows how to treat me .....