Post chemo dramas...

I don't know how they make it so complicated, but between Guy's Cancer Centre and the Wandsworth Single Point of Contact, I've never had a district nurse visit go smoothly.  After this round of chemo, I was given Filgastim, an injection to take from days 3 - 10 to help boost my white blood count.  Guy's Cancer Centre sent me home with the prescription (but failed to tell me it needed to be kept in the fridge).  They arranged for the district nurse to visit on Friday to show me how to do the injection, however Friday came and no district nurse showed up.  I called to query and apparently Guy's Cancer Centre hadn't given consent or something so no nurse could come.  I stabbed myself...  Not great for someone who hates needles.  I'd had to inject Matt with heparin at one stage so I knew the basics, however it still took me a good while to psych myself up to do it.

Saturday was another stinking hot day and I felt tired - both from the heat and the chemo.  I spent the afternoon lazing on the sofa, watching England win the football and then sadly watching Kyle Edmund lose to Nadal at Wimbledon.  Shortly after the match finished I headed to bed and as part of the nightly ritual, checked me temperature...  38.1.  I really didn't want to go to A&E - I was tired and wanted to sleep, it was a Saturday night, A&E would be heaving, especially with the England football game.  I slept but woke at 11pm and checked my temperature again - 38.3.  Bugger.  I called acute oncology and they told me to go in to A&E.  This time, my closest A&E was St George's Hospital.

Nephew Tim and I Ubered it to St George's where we waited for 40 mins to be triaged by a nurse before finally being taken through to Major Trauma, ward 14.  And so followed the same pattern, vitals taken, antibiotics administered and then the long wait until they got my blood results and decided whether or not they could send me home.
Waiting...

Oops...

Drugs...

Unfortunately St George's were extra cautious and decided I needed to be admitted so they could run a course of antibiotics even though my temperature had dropped right down to 37 again.  At 4 am I was admitted to the Richmond Acute Medical Unit and as I was supposedly neutropenic I got a room all to myself.  Tim headed home and I was left to the nursing team to take my vitals again and an ECG.  At 6 am I was woken to be given more antibiotics and at 8, just as breakfast - coffee - was on it's way, I was whisked off for a chest x'ray.  Then began the long wait for an Oncology doctor to come down and decide whether I needed to be admitted to a ward or I could go home.

It was a long day of dozing, reading and waiting.  The oncology doctor finally came at 1730, looked at my notes, said my blood count was fine and I could go home.  HAPPY DAYS!

At 8 pm I was no longer happy or patient.  I wanted out, I needed fresh air and desperately needed a shower.  The team were waiting for my prescription (antibiotics) before they could discharge me.  Finally, at 9.27 pm (4 hours after being told I could go home) my prescription arrived and I waddled out that ward as fast as my little legs could take me.
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