In hospital with youthful blood pressure

Testing the bloods

The day began quite early, I am not too sure I had that much sleep for excitement I could not explain but it was the day of my 7^th quarterly medical consultation at the hospital.

I am not too sure if I can call it quarterly any more, the intervals between meetings could stretch out to 4 months and sometimes it is within 3 months.

Each meeting requires some preparation which involves visiting the hospital to give blood for tests at least 2 weeks before the appointment – the battery of tests yields 7 groups of results that tell a complete and complex story about my condition and how effective my treatment has been.

Then 7 vials of blood were taken to reveal 28 individual results which would either fall within a range as normal or will elicit certain changes or continuation in therapy until such a time as the results fall into expected scope.

The fetish of the feet

I arrived at the hospital just in time for my appointment on bicycle and I was immediately called into have my weight measured and my blood pressure taken before my consultant invited me to his office.

As usual, there is a student doctor there who would have been given a general idea of my original condition, the course of treatment, the changes over time and the opportunity to meet with the patient reviewed.

We started off with my general circumstances and in I informed him of my impending move to the UK along with my concerns for making such a move, then we got to how I felt, health wise.

Apart from the occasional irritation and itch, everything else was fine and I shared information of the foot therapy session I had with Gurra rufa fish nibbling at my feet, he laughed as he dismissed it as a money-making gimmick and nothing more.

Good signals all round

My weight was steady over the last 3 months and my blood pressure he opined was very much in the range of that of a 20-year old, he observed that the previous readings were quite high but this time I seemed to be more relaxed – I am rarely anxious in hospital, you get so used to visiting that expectations are moderated to expect to hear what the bloods say and then we deal with the issue.

All the indicators seemed to be going in the right direction but none as radical enough to discontinue any of my drug therapy apart from the summer months hiatus from Calcium and Vitamin D supplements.

The immunity functions seem to undulate when what I need is an upward exponential change, that part of recovery is just a long-term thing I am made to understand.

Am I depressed?

As my first therapy session is tomorrow it is important to determine whether part of my drug therapy is not creating the onset of depression, we’ll talk and hopefully get to some sort of useful conclusion on that.

We planned to meet again in just over 4 months’ time in the winter when I would have gone back on Calcium and Vitamin D supplements, my treatment advisor was on holiday and the pastor was in a meeting.

On the whole, I felt good about the meeting that was over in just about 20 minutes.

Hospital eases bureaucratic stress

All-round advisor

Another day at the hospital planned just last week and besides that planned for tomorrow to see the foot and rehabilitation specialist.

Last Friday, I decided to avail myself of the hospital social services having seen my quest for welfare support derailed by ping-pong bureaucracy.

The appointment was an early on set for 9:00 AM, I do not think I slept that much overnight but I got all the files and papers filled in last month together and that seems to have been all I needed.

I vacillated about taking my laptop with me and eventually left it at home thinking the problem will be taken out of my hands and sorted somehow, I was determined I would not be further burdened by the stress of navigating the system.

When I met my advisor, she first wanted to know about my health, my strength, my mind and my expectations – well, I feel good, though my right foot does flake a bit and offers me a good itch due to fungal infections and blisters that might well be dealt with soon.

She obtained an alternative prescription cream for help deal with the itch as we talked about other matters of post-chemotherapy conditioning for the return to work and so on.

Not so easy, it was not

Then we moved to the matter for which I was visiting, my application for benefits that had been stuck in the system – we drew a timeline of time of unemployment, when I first fell ill, the progression of illness to the diagnosis of cancer, the treatments and the post-chemotherapy issues.

It appeared my business was not particularly a walk in the park; she left to explain the situation to a psychologist who also happens to be the resident expert on these bureaucracies and persuaded her to review my papers.

The times and records became the more important issue apart from the fact that my not realising my health was deteriorating meant I did not seek medical help promptly nor resort to welfare funds, I needed a narrative.

The expert called all the offices to find out the best kind of approach to deal with my situation and fortunately she linked up with someone who had a good idea of what to do, albeit the suggestion was offered as a very long shot.

My new application

My last contract, bank details, identification papers, records of last payments and a reasonably lengthy litany of the how I found myself in the situation I was in and the why it took so long to register the situation was needed to make my case to the bureaucracies.

Fortunately, I had all that information and the services of the hospital internet service computers to craft my supporting letter which the expert reviewed, amended, notarised and packaged for delivery on the hospital’s livery along with all the photocopies of requested material.

Just over 4 hours at the hospital and I could maybe breathe a sigh of some relief and hope for a very favourable response to my application in the not too distant future – even tomorrow already seems too late, that is how much I need this matter resolved now.