Well the past fortnight has been a night mare in some ways, but in others it was a success where I got to walk with assistance a few times, and have made some very firm friends with the nursing and rehab staff.
Everyone was shocked and rather scared last Thursday when suddenly I started passing a lot of blood. Not in the urine,but what I thought was bowel movements, was actually a huge bleed happening. That evening I was taken to A & E downstairs in Maryborough for blood transfusions and platelets. The same ‘argument’ ensued with the head doctor there about whether I should have treatment or just go home and kark it. I’m not sure if they take this route to save themselves work and possible legal action, or do they just think I want to give up? They soon found out believe me! Tim was furious and stormed at them about their attitude compared to our wishes. Our Health Directive was revised..I wasn’t aware they had one for me here in Maryborough.
Later, I was transferred to Hervey Bay ED. The surgeon I saw, Christina, explained what she thought the bleeding might be, and sent me off for the CT scans. The scans failed to show any active bleed which sounded rather hopeful to us. Apart from my counts hitting rock bottom, I felt okay.
Christina’s boss, a very tall, serious looking Indian gent arrived to tell me I was not well enough for any procedures to be done…he suggested I have an endoscopy scope done with no sedative. He said I could swallow the scope. That idea was shot down in flames by me before it could even take shape in anyone’s mind. I told Mr India I would let him know in the morning.
So morning came and I had the long discussion with the team of surgeons. Quentin was good at explaining it all and he was a happy and positive guy. I like him. I decided to take the risk and have the scopes done under a light sedative. They found ulcers. A duodenal ulcer that is obviously a fallout thing from the chemo, and a smaller esophageal ulcer which can be fixed with a good drug. So, all in all I have been once again very lucky, and now it’s time for me to get back to my rehab workouts and on the way to independence once more.
The Maryborough staff keep asking after me and are looking forward to having me back with them, and that is comforting.
Yesterday, while talking to Karen from palliative care, we mentioned the garden area I was allowed to sit in with Mary and Adrian, the day before the bleed happened. Karen said we could have Daisy there to visit and pretty sure they would let her on the ward as well to visit and entertain. It would be a while before I’d consider her on the ward, but the garden idea sounds good to me. I can’t wait to be able to see her.
Now of course, it’s the waiting game for a place in rehab in Maryborough. In the short time I’ve been away, at least 15 people have applied to be accepted in the rehab ward.
Here is the second chapter of my WIP. Hope you all still hope it is worth a read.
With their coffees in front of them, coats now draped over the back of their chairs because of the warmth of the open fire place in the coffee shop. It was a favourite haunt of Meryl’s. It was part of a bakery, and the delicious aromas of the cakes and buns as well as the freshly baked bread, wafted through to the coffee lounge. Meryl’s stomach rumbled but she dismissed it. She would never lose weight if she indulged in the tempting goodies. The shop had a homeliness she found comforting and inviting, as well as relaxing, and just what she needed at times during her stressful days
Not every day was stressful she admitted to herself, and she enjoyed her job on the whole. Some days though there was a story of complete sadness or hopelessness to write and she found it drained her emotionally much sooner these days. Age and life experience seemed to do this to most she found.
Mr. Ducar took a deep breath and smiled. ‘Shall I begin?’ he asked.
Please do Mr. Ducar. I’m looking forward to hearing your story.’
‘I’d prefer if you called me John,’ she nodded in response and replied he must call her Meryl.
‘Right,’ he seemed to be gearing himself up to tell the story.
‘Every year at dusk on May twenty-fourth, I meet the woman I love, and have always loved, at the rotunda in the park near the hospital. Do you know it?’
Meryl nodded in acknowledgement.
‘It’s the only time and chance we have to be together,’ he continued.
Meryl inclined her head with unasked questions.
‘Once a year,’ she said. ‘So not your wife? Perhaps someone else’s wife?’ she ventured. ‘Why would you want this story told to every man and his dog in this small town? They will know immediately who the story is about surely?’ she said.
It was part of her job to be curious, but he had aroused her curiosity with just a short statement. She thought that perhaps this would arouse the interest and curiosity of her readers just as quickly. Looking at her watch she said, ‘Tomorrow is the twenty-fourth.’
He nodded. ‘Susan and I have been meeting each year on that date at the rotunda for fifty years now,’ he smiled. ‘We have never missed a year.’
Fifty years! Meryl was just thirty-five. Doing some quick math, she figured they must be in their seventies by now or close to them at least.
She looked at John Ducar with renewed interest. Imagine loving someone for fifty years and not being able to be with them every day.
Just one day a year.
He looked fit and healthy with a full head of silver grey hair, blue eyes, handsome face. Perhaps he was one of the lucky ones who had aged well. Men always aged well and became distinguished, whereas women aged well and if lucky became graceful grey haired ladies with kind faces and pretty smiles. It is such an unbalanced world, she thought ruefully.
Sipping his coffee, he eyed her over the rim of his cup. Those eyes of his, she thought, would have gotten the girls in when he was younger. Strong good looks, black hair, lightly tanned skin and those eyes. She sighed again.
It was impossible to picture him as a young dashing man because every time she tried, an image of her father pushed its way into view. He was a handsome man in his day and the women swooned over him, to this day. Meryl reflected how patient her mother must be to have put up with it so calmly all these years. Whenever they were out for dinner, shopping or on holiday, women would almost fall over their own feet to get to her father’s side.
Her mobile’s loud ring broke the moment and John Ducar visibly shrank from the table. Muttering her apologies Meryl answered.
‘What forms?’ she asked. Her secretary was on the other end of the line spluttering about forms of some kind but Meryl’s mind was too full of John’s story at the moment to comprehend what Jenny was on about.
The forms were approvals of the advertisements that were to appear in tomorrow’s edition and needed to be signed off by the editor. Just another tiresome task in Meryl’s day. She promised she would be back in the office in a few minutes’ time to sort all the approvals out.
‘They have to be with the printers by three don’t forget,’ admonished Jenny.
On hearing the snippets of the phone conversation, John rose and pulled on his coat and scarf.
‘I’d like to hear your story John, but work is calling me back to the computer and my desk. I’m sorry. Can we make it another time soon?’ she smiled hoping he would not be offended with having their little chat cut off so abruptly.
‘That’s okay,’ John nodded. ‘My timing seems to be a little off. You’ve been very generous in listening to an old man’s story thus far and I appreciate it. It has been nice talking to you Meryl.’
As he walked outside, Meryl felt tongue tied. She wanted to call him back but she was now thinking of all the other things she had to do before this week’s paper went to print. Darn it she cursed as she put on her coat and wrapped her scarf around her neck. She would try to catch up with him and make another firm time.
It was then she noticed he had left his brief case behind, where it had been nudged under the table almost out of sight. She grabbed the worn handle and turned to call him back. He was on the pavement and could not hear her call his name once the bakery doors closed behind him. She rushed to catch him.
Unfortunately, by the time she made it to the door after dodging around eager customers wanting to purchase some of those goodies, John Ducar was driving off in a sleek silver car.
Meryl had no phone number or address to follow up. She had no clue as to where he lived. Besides that, she really needed to hear the rest of his story before making a decision as to whether she could print it in the paper or not. What about Susan? The woman he met each year. Would she mind having her story told to everyone in the town and district? Meryl shook her head in frustration and headed back for her office.
With a firm grip of the brief case Meryl felt sure he would realise his mistake and make his way back to the bakery or her office to locate it. It was heavy and by the time she reached her office, she was happy to put it on the floor behind her desk, safe for the night, while she worked.
Happy Australia Day to everyone. This day always sees the closet Republicans crawl out of the woodwork. I have always loved the Queen and the Royal family…all except Camilla that is.Even Fergie doesn’t annoy me as much as Horse-face Witch.
I honestly believe it would be more respectful i we didn’t go on about dumping the Royal family, until the Queen passes on. If Camilla is going to be Queen Consort or whatever title they can come up with, believe me, I will be one of the first to opt for a republic…till then, let’s back off.