Laughter follows my hospital visit

Back to the hospital

And so I conducted my first visit back to the hospital yesterday under my own steam to have blood taken which would determine the next course of treatment, like additional chemotherapy or how else readings of my blood condition had changed.

When I was leaving the hospital two Fridays ago, I had promised the lady of 85 in my ward that I would visit her and so I bought some chocolates and quite a lot of chocolates for the nurses on the B.06 section of the hospital.

First, I got a blank card where with a thick felt-tipped pen I listed out the 14 names of the nurses and then thanked them for their care, compassion, concern and professionalism, addressing it to the wonderful and amazing nurses of B.06 OLVG.

Mobility by bike and crutches

It is easier to get around on a bicycle but I had to find out how to carry my crutches, I got a marker to mark the points at which the height and elbow grips are set and found I could collapse both crutches to just about 70 cm in length.

I then placed the crutches on the bike load platform which is over the back tyre and held them in place with two heavy-duty elastic bands with grip hooks on either end.

After that I was ready to go, that arrangement was just right, with enough energy, I could get anywhere and when there I could negotiate whatever I had to get to my destination.

Meeting with the nurses

The bloods were done in less than 20 minutes and forthwith I went up to Ward B.06 to see the nurses, this was well before visiting time – apparently the lady had left the Friday before, which was good though I felt bad about not being able to keep my promise.

Immediately, I recognised two nurses, in fact, the first one I saw was the one that gave me a wash, she was off to see a patient, and then I met the one who checked me out and gave her my gifts offering to bring in a Taibo exercise DVD if they felt they were being fed too many chocolates.

One of the doctors walked by the reception and instantly remembered my name, she was happy that I was looking well, and the nurses were grateful, gracious and appreciative, I just felt it was the least I could do and I think every once in a while, I would surprise them with something.

Then I went down to see the Catholic priest that visited me at my bedside, he was called from one of his rounds, we had a chat and again, I felt his visit was very useful and comforting for me and I gave him a little present and made my way home.

I took a long route which allowed me to meditate, sing and edify myself.

Laughing through the pain

Until yesterday evening, each stab of pain or chronic pain was acknowledged with a grimace, a contortion of the face, a grunt or some other reflexive action and I suddenly decided, maybe by inspiration to register every feeling of pain with laughter.

Bizarre, you may say but there is a reason why laughter is supposedly the best medicine, so I laughed through every moment I felt pain, my body being slow to play that game because naturally one defaults to a cry of pain, to purposefully overrule that with determined laughter even when you do not feel like it is interesting.

What I noticed was the pain was no more occupying my thoughts that much and within the 6-hour circle of pain medication where the pain begins to show up after four and a half hours, I have now been able to go 11 and 12 hours respectively between the medications for pain.

When the nurse arrived this morning, he thought the idea of laughter for managing pain was funny but as much as possible I giggled or laughed for the pain. He felt I should have one of my toes checked out when I visit oncology on Friday and he arranged that meeting.

Apart from a few areas where I sometimes need help, like shopping and doing the rubbish, generally, I am coping well at home and also recuperating quite well too.

Settling back at home

Do not forget with the passing of time

It is now coming to a week since I returned home from hospital and the final batch of my medicines and dressings were delivered in a box as big as one for a standard microwave.

I left hospital with a passion to address a number of things and I should take heed that I do not weary because I have returned to comfort and convenience – I am a changed man nevertheless and what has become of me shall definitely be defining for the present to the future.

The nurse comes each day to dress my foot as I limp, halt and sometimes hobble around the house. I have diligently documented the times for the as-needed pain medication to prevent the under usage of mistaken overdoses.

I do that every 6 hours but the pain just begins to show up just about from the fifth hour, between temptation and endurance, on endures.

Chairs on crutches

My crutches also arrived on Monday and it took a number of adjustments to get them to the right height, yesterday I also got a shower chair which was a funny order because it had been ordered as a chair for my wife who I cannot for the moment find and I think someone felt they should check just in case.

Apparently, the chairs differ for the sexes; I would suppose the other kind of chair, if I allow my imagination to run wild probably has stirrups – O well.

I need to get a second foot protector for the shower, for my feet must be kept out of water because the skin is dry and soaks up water like wool, they must also be kept moisturised.

Homely situations

I get a few things done around the house but neighbours and friends are the most helpful companions – I eat well and really enjoy my food, there is nothing like having a good home-cooked meal.

I have not switched on my television since I returned home, I did not watch television either for the 18 days I was in hospital, I have found other things to occupy my time edifyingly and usefully.

My bicycle has been retrieved from where it had been shackled after my friend lost the keys, it means I would now have opportunity to get out a bit and collect a few things waiting for me at the post office that requires personal identification before collection.

Again, I am thankful for all the help, support, flowers, calls and messages of encouragement I have received, I am grateful.

Crutches on the drip

Happenings – fast and slow

The results of the biopsy are yet to come because that determines whether I should still be tethered to the intravenous drip mechanism or I can go home on oral medication.

The beginning of my second week has arrived with still no inkling of when my bed at home would receive the warmth of its owner.

The intravenous needle had begun to irritate me and cause pain, an alcohol/water mix pad was applied to offer a cooling effect but not to much avail, in the end, it had to be removed and everyone is waiting on the doctor to decide how I get fed my antibiotics.

Speeding ticket for crutches on the run

The physiotherapist arrived to see my foot and legs then went to get crutches on which I did a hobbling run that could have landed me on either my face or my butt, he steadied me as he told me tricks of rising and settling with crutches.

Whilst taking a breather the orthopaedic foot mould specialist arrived and my demonstration of crutch mobility was abysmal but I was commended all the same.

She took drawings of my foot, measured round parts of the foot then wrapped it around with cellophane and ruler down the front, applied a wet bandage that then hardened into a mould with was then cut out with a blade to the flexible ruler – I thought that was quite impressive chemistry.

90s, 80s but 40s?

We had a new patient nonagenarian arrive yesterday, now with my octogenarian friend who might leaving tomorrow, in fact, he has been at his most quiet today, probably because he knows when he is going back home.

Come think of it, being 43, I do not think there is something called quadrogenarian, you have to reach a certain age to be accorded a –genarian suffix and I am well away from that. The nonagenarian seems to speak Dutch with an English accent; he also has an English sounding name.

It goes to show that very few people lose their mother tongue accent no matter how fluent they become in another language, maybe he settled here after the war – my deductions might be true if he reads a high-brow Dutch newspaper but watches the English language news on television.

One observation, the hospital bed controls do not lend themselves to geriatric finesse, I have observed both fumble in frustration with the buttons, the more senior expelling expletives as if he was out at sea. Strewth!

A sport of ward probing

Then I did a round of the wards on crutches, no, I am not practising for the Paralympics but I think I have gotten a good feel of how to get around on those things.

The day is going fine, as I learn that the most inexhaustible reserve of hope, expectation and success is God's mercy for the stupid things one has allowed to happen and God’s favour to get one completely out of the rut to that place of confidence, assurance and worthwhile activity.