Yesterday was huge for him. 5 hours in the big blue comfy chemo chair. It takes a while sometimes as "they" have to make up the chemo bag of drippy fluid on the spot, it is light sensitive, that's why it is in a black bag, I didn't know that . . . . so when you arrive they send a message to the "chemo drippy fluid making place"  and you wait in the blue chair until it arrives,  . . . . he has to have a bag of fluid intravenously for an hour, then the chemo bag, then another fluid bag for another hour. Fluid bags are to help his kidneys. It helps his body flush the chemo through . . . we don't want his kidneys fucked.

The chemo room was full as usual. We both felt a bit numb and sympathetic seeing a dad of 25ish hooked up to a drip, his little daughter of maybe 3 jumping up and down saying "daddy . . . . . ". The other day when he was in the chemo chair a young man who was intellectually disadvantaged was hooked up also a few chairs away . . . what the hell? really? why? wtf? that's just not fair. If there is a god? FUCK YOU.

In the chemo room, one of the other carers, that's what we are called, us partners, was quite gregarious, funny, loud mouthed, "who wants coffee?", he said, "yes please!" thinking he was going to the kitchen for some not so tasty instant . . . he was spectacular and distracting so everyone liked him, he went down to the food hall and ordered half a dozen real coffees, cappuccino's, flat whites etc. Brought them up and handed them out, It was then we realised he was just like us, a partner of a cancer patient, bless you Michael for your loveliness.

Thank you to whoever brought the box of chocolates to our place on Sunday !! Lawrence was that you? I took them to the Alfred yesterday and shared them amongst the staff and patients. One man with a seriously deformed skull, clearly from previous surgery, hooked up to a chemo drip, joked with me, laughed about not being able to eat sweets, grabbed 2 chocolates and smiled, I smiled too. Cancer you fucking ass hole.

After chemo he had an appointment in the basement where the "mask of terror" now known as the "mask of not so comfortable" was waiting for him . . . . it used to be called the "mask of death" which I didn't like, but it was his way of explaining how he felt in it. His anxiety has dropped hugely since the first time he wore it, hence the name changes as time goes on.

It was a very long day. You would think that after such an emotionally draining day you would sleep well. Nup. Sleep did not come easily, for me anyway. He seems to be sleeping ok at the moment, he still gets up in the early hours but he's getting 7 hours or so.

on to Thursday . . .

a quick visit to the basement and to the mask that is now known simply as "the mask" . He has almost conquered his anxiety. We have chatted about irrational thinking vs rational thinking, maybe that has helped? Not such "psycho babble bullshit" after all, hey you??? Only he will get that.

We have found a really nice Spanish tapas bar in Melbourne next to the Queen Victoria Markets. It's our second visit and we will be going back. Real Spanish food, good music and the waitress is from Barcelona, we love her accent.
On to Abbeys Auction house in Burwood where we have sent some of my dad's collectables to be sold. It is really to give mum a focus, us an interest, and to put some pocket money in mum's purse. The things that may have been just given away or sent to the op shop, or chucked in the bin, now have a new home at the auction house and as someone said "one man's trash is another man's treasure".

Here's the link if you are interested: you'll have to copy and paste

https://www.abbeysauctions.com.au/rolex-and-tudor/

if you have any friends who collect Rolex pieces then they may be keen to see these beauties.

On to Friday, today. Begeebuz. I am seriously going to have a chat with my GP about some sleeping meds. I need to get some quality mattress time. We were up 6am. Bacon and eggs on toast with cheese and vegemite for breakfast along with the numerous pills, temperature taking, water intake monitoring, meal planner on the fridge thingy, lip balm, mouth wash, mouth drops, anti nausea drugs, me running around like a dick putting everything we need into my huge "hospital bag", snacks, nausea meds, water, salt water for mouth washing, chocolates, muesli bars, phones and chargers, checking my checklist and then checking he has done all the things I asked him to do . . . . .  whew.
Then ! Our little fur boy decides nope I am not getting out of bed for you nor anyone ! Fine then. You little furboy will stay home. Soft we have been called, well, yep we are indeed. Furboy stayed in bed, under the doona, and we both went of to the 9am appointment. Drove back afterwards, blurry eyed. Then went back again for his 4.15pm appointment. This week had a public holiday so he had to have 2 radiations on the one day to catch up. My eyes are burning.

On a fun note, I beat his time to the Alfred ! he took 58 minutes this morning, I beat that by a couple of minutes this arvo. I think I win big time as it was later in the day. People are sluggish drivers later in the day aren't they? so I had to negotiate that . . .  more mind power needed, more dexterity, more focus, to manouver, so I win  . . . .

We snuck our furboy in to the courtyard this arvo, I stay at the top of the stairs where there is an orange mesh fence of "don't go here" across the opening to the stairs, with furboy on the lead. My he goes down to the basement and comes out to the courtyard, up the stairs and calls our furboy. I let go of furboys leash and he runs through the "don't go here" area and through the gate, he's small enough so he fits through the rungs in the gate, and my he takes him down the stairs and waits for me. I go to the basement via the normal route, get my car parking ticket validated so it's only $10, and meet them both in the courtyard. The basement nurses know where to find us.

Today the Grand Prix cars were practising so it was quite loud. Not as loud as the bloody jet plane that was also practising! Many of the staff came running out into the courtyard to hear and see it fly over. Poor furboy ! what a time to bring him in, he was a tad scared. He did get lots of pats afterwards from the basement nurses. He calmed down not long after. Poor furboy.

We are all home now and he has had his protein powdered banana mango full cream milk ice cream honey smoothie with dinner. Hell you could live of those alone. 2 days off now !!!!! I am staying under the doona in the morning. I will leave instructions for him to make his own breakfast.

Who am I kidding . . . . . .

F.U.P.C.



WARNING !!!!



These photos are confronting.




This is him and his "Mask".

This mask is bolted down so he cant move an inch, a millimetre actually. It is snug, pushing on his eyelids, his mouth, his nose, his neck. Not pleasant at all. The only hole for him to breath through is the nose hole, which isn't big enough, he struggles. His jaw is rigidly clamped down as well. Not fun. He is doing so well. I love you Cancer Boy.