As ever, nothing in hospital goes quite as expected. Today I was supposed to have my second radiotherapy treatment and my first chemotherapy. The radiotherapy didn’t happen so I’ve still 29 more to go.
Thus far the chemotherapy has been an anticlimax. That’s good. I don’t want to feel nauseous. The stuff I’m on is pretty mild.
Today’s treatment consisted of sitting for five hours in a ward which seems to have been designed to look like an upmarket sandwich bar – white walls, black stone floors, with detailing and furniture colour co-ordinated in orange, green and red. Even the bin lids are a tasteful shade of lime green.
The idea is presumably to create a bright, relaxing atmosphere. Not in Spain. There were probably 20-30 people in the ward receiving chemo at the same time as me. I had six drip-bags to change and each time one finished it set off a loud beeper. I guess others were much the same. At times this meant it sounded like being in an HGV car park with multiple artics reversing at you simultaneously.
My answer was to crank up my MP3 player to 11 so I could lose myself in music. This was fine until I failed to notice the nurse wanting to speak to me urgently about my radiotherapy appointment. I think she thought I was deliberately ignoring her…