Doesn’t it just.

Yesterday Maria and I had three hours at the hospital going through all the procedures and risks associated with my new chemo regime. I don’t remember any of this from before so I guess they have tightened up on making sure every eventuality is covered including those disasters triggered  should I forget to close the toilet lid (I jest not). I guess the drugs are so toxic they can leap out of the toilet bowl and take out any passers by or spectators. Not a likely scenario but better safe than sorry I suppose. It was actually quite a fun experience and I could not help laughing at the registrars attempts at euphemistic language – I really don’t know what he meant by my private parts as there are at least two options neither of which seemed to fit the bill in terms of the potential maladies he was attempting to describe. Happily he had a sense of humour. Honestly ‘private parts’ should have long gone the way of ‘down there’ and ‘water works.’

This came after another long night accompanied by more  German cinematic angst. The choice on Mubi of Austrian films is quite limited but I am particularly interested in Vienna and Viennese culture at the moment so foolishly I indulged in an Ulrich Seidel film (advisory oh boy very very advisory) about elderly Austrian women who go to Africa to find ‘love.’ It turned out to be more than a bit pornographic with many enthusiastic  ‘wangers,’ let’s call them (private parts) amidst a good amount of wrinkly white fleshy bits littering the screen. I admit I got bored but as always with so many German/ Austrian art films it left a very distinctive vibe of hopeless and pathetic futility over a background of despair, [not jolly would be another way of putting it] which was exacerbated when after falling asleep (as I said it was quite a boring film) for an hour or so I awoke and attempted to turn on the bedside light.—  Zilch. I assumed we had had yet another power cut (we had had a couple cos of the storm) and slightly delirious I crawled around the house looking for a torch. After shuffling my way to the bathroom I absent mindedly flipped the light switch and -amazement -there was light. So there was no power cut just a bulb out on the bedside lamp. I felt a distinct German movie futility moment. Old man shuffles around das Haus, in the dark mistakenly believing there is a powercut. Perhaps I should make it.

Other news. While at the hospital I begged for stronger pain killers hinting that diazepam was my class A drug of choice but the registrar wouldn’t let me have them. I was persuaded that if I took more of the same old same old more regularly all would be well. I gave a very good natured response but I was sneering inside dreading another night of enthusiastic wangers but behold the medical professionals were right if you take loads and often the pain slips away and sleep slips in – blissful. A night of uninterrupted sleep was mine – I am happy.

Or I was.

After all the build up, Maria and I arrived at the hospital ready for the big event. I even brought my new satchel, yes I bought a 1970’s leather school satchel to hold all my German grammar books,  only to be told that a form authorising the budget for the treatment had not been signed so it had to be delayed a week. Honestly I couldn’t give a monkeys. Bet that surprises you. Now if I was till having back pain I might have kicked off (but actually that would have been pointless). Helen the nurse I have known for 10 years was very apologetic, but as I said to her , stuff happens and when it does you just don’t know what other events it might give rise to or what you might have avoided.  Perhaps I have dodged choking on a donut, perhaps someone unknown to me but in some convoluted way connected has avoided serendipitously something important, perhaps some deep space asteroid has minutely adjusted its course and in millions of years will avoid colliding with earth eliminating all references to the human race because my treatment was delayed by a week. What I am sure of  is that at any level beyond that occupied by Maria and I, it may or may not make a difference and we will never know. So after calling at Sainsbury’s and the post office we drove home (I admit a bit pathetically, tail between legs like) to be greeted cheerfully by Vinnie who is loving my sojourn in the ex Nonna downstairs electric tilting bed because he finally gets to sleep on a real bed in a warm room (see serendipity again) – he is excluded from upstairs, for which I believe he bears a grudge against Bobby who sleeps upstairs every day, and so if he can while he can (while my back still aches) he spends the entire day on Nonnas bed. I will join him

So Helen will check if the form has been signed on Friday and call me. Any further delays and she said they will ply me with steroids I asked if it could have them now, she thought I was joking, I wasn’t. Backs hurting a bit again maybe I spoke too soon. Damn it.

Tara C x