A Godot full day!

So I've finally accepted the need to rest and acknowledge there needs to be convalescence time at the end of my treatment. However, up to this point I've still found myself saying, 'I'm going to rest properly after I've done....'
The intention has been there but I just haven't seemed able to switch off completely. Its not as though there's much that I do that others can't pick up. And there's no 'poor me, I'm not needed' in that. Actually I am delighted by how well The Hub is running without me and the way Chris has stepped into her own power and light is just beautiful to observe. But I so enjoy what I do and gain so much from doing it. I was given a piece of very sound advice recently- to 'cherry pick' the stuff I continue to do. I can qualify that now by adding that I'll continue to do things that make my heart sing and help in my healing. And all I actually did in the week after treatment 9 was lead a Meditation group, a Reiki Share and attend a Mantra Chanting Circle. I also spent time with folks away from The Hub whose wisdom and healing energy  feeds my soul.

Treatment 10 was a double whammy with the Herceptin injection as well as the Paclitaxil chemo. The most immediate side-effect of Herceptin is a thumping headache. The best advice I was given around this was to take a couple of Paracetamol tablets beforehand. I find myself feeling quite agitated and unsettled for a few hours afterwards. The best thing for me at that time is to stay occupied. Reading, chatting, resting but keeping my mind busy as a distraction from what is going on physically for me. Eventually, after a few hours, a deep sleep takes over and I wake up next day feeling much better. This treatment was no exception and I did feel better, if still a bit groggy, on the Friday. And that was the last time I'll have the double whammy, though the Herceptin injections continue every three weeks through to October.

On the Friday afternoon I had a 3pm Oncology appointment at another hospital. The purpose of this was to arrange the Radiotherapy treatment that will follow chemo. We arrived at a disturbingly busy waiting room and I was relieved to see there were three separate clinics using the same reception space. Within 10 minutes I was called in to be weighed, measured and have my BMI calculated. I took off as many layers as I could (Slimming World style) but left my shoes on for that extra bit of height- every little helps! After this we returned to the waiting room and chatted as we watched folks coming and going. An hour or so later, one of the nursing staff came out to apologise and told us there was a 70 minute delay. I wasn't feeling too good with post-chemo fatigue kicking in but I always assume hospital waits are because someone else needs the doctor more than I do. It was clear people with later appointments than me were being called in but I assumed there must be some triage based reasoning behind this. 

At around 4.30pm another patient became quite vocal and threatened to walk out. She shouted that she shouldn't be kept waiting as she was diabetic. Her daughter tried to reason with and reminded her she'd eaten at 2pm and her blood sugars would be fine. However, she became increasingly agitated and eventually walked out. Two kind  nurses went after her, brought her back, gave her a drink and biscuits and took her off to wait in a separate room for the doctor. In effect her outburst got her moved up the list and she was seen before me though her appointment was after mine. In my mind behaviour like that warrants a spell on the naughty step rather than preferential treatment but then again, I don't know that lady's circumstances so its not really for me to judge.

By now it was 5pm. I'd been sitting in a busy, stuffy waiting room for over two hours and was certainly not feeling at my best. Back before the start of chemotherapy, my oncologist warned me to protect myself from picking up infection by avoiding crowds and people who may be ill. How ironic then that I should find myself in just such an environment while waiting to see another oncologist!

Its fair to say I was cross. By now I had a headache, the start of stomach cramps and was feeling tired in that overwhelmingly emotional way that a growing sense of injustice feeds. We were called in by a very apologetic nurse. I asked if I'd have been seen sooner if I'd threatened to walk out. I pointed out that I'd followed previous advice to protect myself from infection and they'd left me in such a situation by keeping me waiting there for so long. I told her I was feeling crap after chemo the previous day. To her credit the nurse made no excuses and apologised unreservedly agreeing that I shouldn't have been kept waiting for so long. There had clearly been a mix up which caused my paperwork to be  mislaid or placed at the bottom of the pile.

On top of feeling angry and emotional I then received news I wasn't expecting and did not welcome. Not only was the radiotherapy treatment going to be longer than expected. There was also going to be a 3-week gap after chemo ended before the next stage could begin. That drags the whole treatment process towards April when I'd hoped everything would be finished by the end of February. I felt that the consultant was patronising and quite insulting. He asked Chris how I was psychologically. I tried to explain that I've been doing really well and staying positive throughout treatment. But all he had before him was an angry, emotional, bald, complaining old woman who must have looked nothing short of completely shite.

We eventually left the hospital just before 6pm. Chris and I had travelled separately. Nothing to do with royal protocol, Chris had been over in Chorley for lunchtime Gongs. I won't pretend I felt at my best to drive so just sat a while in the van. A rummage in the glove compartment found a chocolate bar that I thought would give me a boost. I took a bite then placed it on the dashboard as I started to manoeuvre towards the exit. As I turned onto the main road my chocolate bar flung itself to the floor. That really was the last straw and I heard myself screaming "just what I need right now, a fucking careless Whispa!" I'm not sure how emotions change so quickly but I went from proper sorry for myself anger to crazed laughter in seconds. And as I drove down the hill away from the hospital, both extremes gave way to tears.

Its fair to say that neither of us were at our best that evening. We unpicked what had happened and there was talk of a letter of complaint. I was exhausted. Chris lit the fire, we ate a comfort food supper of cheesy mash and quorn escalopes and I drifted into a coma of a sleep on the sofa before waking briefly around midnight to go to bed.

I woke early the next day and straight away my mind drifted back to the hospital. What were these sensations that were coming up?
Injustice! It was so unfair that someone should be moved ahead of me in the queue simply because they complained. I was a good girl. I sat quietly and waited without complaining.
Rejection! Someone else was treated with compassion while I was feeling dreadful and deserved to be treated kindly but wasn't.
Helplessness! At no point did I feel able to say or do anything to change what was happening to me.
Worthlessness! Everyone else in that waiting room mattered more than me, hence I was last to be seen.

As I sat with these thoughts and the feelings that came up I started to realise that the only person I was really angry with in the situation was myself. I shared what had happened with a friend- a proper rant it was. How could I be so weak as to just sit there without speaking out? Why did I value myself so little that I remained in a situation that put my health at risk? Why was I so stupid? Rather than get caught up in the drama of the situation or feed my anger in any way, my very wise friend simply asked me what I would do next time such a situation occurred.

What could I have done? What would I do next time? What would I advise others to do in a similar situation?

Well firstly, the nursing staff on duty were clearly kind and compassionate. However, they didn't know how I was feeling. Neither did they know I'd had chemotherapy the day before. So I could have made this known. May-be my situation would even have trumped Mrs Grumpy-I-need-a-biscuit! Second, I could have taken control of the waiting room situation and asked was there somewhere else I could wait. Or even asked if I could go and wait in the car and got them to call me on my mobile when my turn came. At the very least, I could have politely enquired when I could expect to be seen. I remain truly grateful for our wonderful NHS and the fantastic treatment I have received over the last few months. However, the staff on duty that day were not mind readers and I had a responsibility to take charge of the situation I was in and speak out in positive, constructive ways.

It was clear from my reaction to what happened and how deeply it affected me emotionally that the situation tapped in to some old stuff around injustice, rejection and feeling helpless and worthless. One gift in the situation is I now have opportunity to sit with this and address the core values stuff that comes up with these emotions.

The day after the oncology appointment I found myself in the cherry-picked environment of The Hub working with a lovely group of folks in a Vision Board Workshop. What a gift of a situation just as I was contemplating how to draw new ways of responding into my life! As always, being surrounded by positive, genuine folks was healing in itself. As for my vision board-there are no material requirements. Rather, what I hope to attract into my life this coming year is 'Health', 'Peace' and an increased ability to 'Go within'.

So, not really a fluffy bunny blog this week but there's definitely a rainbow at the end of that rather grim storm!

Liz x