"I'm Special" - that's what they keep telling me.

I wonder why staff from different DHBs don’t talk to each other when they have a patient in common?

I also wonder why, when you suggest to someone that they do, the person your're talking to can immediately find any number of reasons why they can’t, or why it’s not a good idea.

For a whole host of very good reasons, of late I’ve been involved with three DHBs: Auckland, Hawkes Bay and Mid-Central. At various times during appointments at each of these DHBs, I’ve been asked questions – or I’ve asked questions - about procedures, tests and scans that occurred at other DHBs. In pretty much every case, the question’s gone unanswered. A lot of times, I’ve been very tempted to explain to the person I’m talking to, how phones, texts and emails work. But, to my credit, I’ve held my tongue.

Now, even though I’ve been involved with the medical profession in New Zealand for a long time, my actual knowledge of medical processes, terms and nomenclature is less than zero. I know this ‘cause just about every time I try to use a medical term, the person I’m talking to corrects me. So, not only don’t I know the correct terminology, I use incorrect terminology. I wonder if this is causing me to ask less questions then I should.

Turns out; getting rid of the cancerous tumor in my face was the easy bit. Even though the surgery was a big deal (I was worked on by two surgical teams for eleven hours) all the stuff that’s come after is proving to be much more of a challenge. Both to me and to Denise.

Last Tuesday we had to go to Palmy to have the Radiation Mask made and for a couple of scans – one of which was a CT Scan of my head - and then last Friday, I had to have another CT Scan of the same area in Hastings. Now there are probably any number of good reasons why the same CT Scan can’t be used by both doctors, but I’m buggered if I know what they might be. It’s not that I’m worried about the number of CT Scans I’ve had. According to Dr. Google the compound effect of multiple CT Scans is negligible. It’s more that it seems to point to inefficiency and waste in our medical system.

Listen to me! I wonder if getting my brain fried is leading to me growing a social conscience. Let’s all hope not.

Anyway, I had two appointments last week. The first one was with the Hand Therapist to have a special glove fitted.

Now just to backtrack a bit – it seems you only get to see the Hand Therapist if you are referred by someone. Interestingly, no one’s ever said anything about this, so I can only assume that the referral was done by the Physio from Auckland that fitted me with a wrist support soon after the operation. But if you want a referral apparently you can just ask your GP for it.

It’s basically a compression sleeve that’s used to reduce the scaring and the swelling from the donor site. It does this by forcing the blood and other fluids away from the site. It seems to work quite well. After wearing it for a couple of days the swelling just below my elbow reduced quite a bit.

The Therapist used a special paper “thingy” to measure the circumference of my arm every four centimeters from my elbow to my wrist. This was sent to “Stralia” and a week later the glove turned up.

You can see how the inside of the sleeve has little “bobbley” bits. These apparently do most of the work.

So, then it’s on to the next appointment. This one with the Eye Specialist – and, guess what? We found another Gremlin in the system. Turned out that everyone – the booking clerk, the receptionist, the nurse at the clinic – all knew about the appointment. The only person “they” forgot to tell was the Specialist. Gotta say, she looked a little surprised when she called into the clinic about three-quarters of an hour after our appointment time and saw us sitting there.

Anyway, after a while rearranging some things we got to talk about my eye. Now, to be fair, we actually already knew how the discussion was going to go, ‘cause we’d received the CT Scan results before the appointment. Thanks again to “Manage My Health”. (This really is a great tool for doctors and patients.) It seems one of the major issues with my eye – but not the only one - is that the lower eye muscle is “catching” on the mesh that makes up the lower orbit of my eye – or, there’s scar tissue catching the muscle as it tries to move. Either way, it’s a problem that doesn’t have an easy fix. So, the next step – an appointment with the Maxillofacial Surgeon. Hopefully between the two of them they can work out a way forward.

As if things aren’t complicated enough… I’m supposed to start Radiation Therapy next week, but that might not be a happening thing now. We got a call from the Radiation Centre in Palmy the other day and they want to see me again before they lock in the program. Apparently, the Oncologist is having trouble with the planning – whatever that means. I guess I’ll find out soon.

Hopefully the Radiation Therapy won’t be postponed. Seems it will cause damage to my eye anyway, so, it would be good to get past this so we know how bad things will actually be, rather than just guessing what’s going to happen.

Do you know how confusing it is to buy an eye patch? There’s any number of patches you can buy for kids, from Jack Sparrow types to Frozen types. Not so much available for big kids. I picked up a couple of cheap cardboard ones from the chemists. But seems there’s not much call for them, unless you’re into Cosplay - I wonder if I could get one from the King of Asgard. He probably won’t need it anymore.

Anyway, I think I’ve found one on Fishpond, so we’ll see what turns up. When I’m inside I can use my glasses with the right side covered but when I’m outside, any sort of breeze gives me grief, and it’s looking more and more like it might become a permanent, or semi-permanent, thing.  

So, now looking forward to another big week of appointments. Maybe by the weekend I’ll have a better idea of what’s going to happen. Time to stand tall and just shrug it off. I’ve decided if I don’t have control over things going forward, what’s the point worrying about it.

I know you are already, but remember to keep being kind.

A Guest Post by a Head and Neck Cancer Survivor

The Post below was written by an inspirational lady from Auckland who has traveled the cancer road for a long time. The subject she is writing about is important to everyone, not just those of us who have fought cancer.

Please take five minutes to read her wise words, and please follow her advice and share this with your family and friends. Awareness from reading this could save your life as well as your loved one's lives. 

If you would like to read more about "Maureen's Journey", please click on the link in the panel  to the right.

I’m older than you, please listen

Campbell’s Bay Primary School was closed for a while in the early 50s because of the polio epidemic and when the vaccine became available we were first injected with the Salk vaccine and some years later (1962?) lined up at school and made to drink the famous Sabin vaccine from little paper cups.

There wasn’t much objection from the anti-vaccination brigade. Children were being paralyzed and placed in iron lungs. There was a worldwide panic. Beaches were closed.

People of my vintage might remember reading classic novels where there was always a character whose life was changed forever by smallpox scars. I read that smallpox was so bad in London that the vaccination became compulsory for a while in 1863.

What about TB? Katherine Mansfield.

Measles was milder but also dangerous. I think I was about 9 when I got it. I was in bed for two weeks with the windows covered in dark gray army blankets. Children’s writer Roald Dahl lost his nine year old daughter to measles. Anti-vaxers seem hellbent on letting this scourge return.

Now I’m in the cancer support volunteering business after several brushes with head and neck cancer which has disfigured and disabled me a little bit. My cancer was not HPV related but similar in its treatment to those that are.

HPV related head and neck cancer responds better to treatment than non HPV but a lot of patients still suffer a world of grief. Four of my head and neck cancer friends are currently facing awful long term effects of treatment and one has metastases to the lungs.

Guys, this type of head and neck cancer is almost totally preventable!

When it was realised that the HPV vaccination could prevent throat cancer it started to be offered to boys as well as girls. It has been very effective in preventing cervical cancer in women.

In our little circle of similar countries it was first offered in Australia where the inventor of the vaccine is from and then NZ and the UK.

Sadly the uptake has not been stellar in NZ since it became freely available in 2017. Vaccinations are optional and parents might vaccinate their kids against measles, mumps and chicken pox (some don’t) but fail to have their 12 year olds vaccinated against HPV.

Why? The sex stigma probably, as well as the loud voices of the anti-vaccination brigade, now amplified by social media.

It’s hard for some parents to admit to themselves that their babies are going to have sex and indeed probably oral sex which is the main way the type of HNC caused by the HPV virus is transmitted.

It’s hard to admit that for herd immunity you have to vaccinate everyone at 11 or 12 before they are sexually active. Maybe this fact will help: they need to be vaccinated then for best results because that is when the body takes up the vaccine best.

I haven’t been squeaky clean when it comes to vaccinations. I’d heard vaguely of the shingles jab being funded for people over 70. Did I take up the offer? No. I was invincible.

How wrong I was as my friends on Facebook told me last night. Shingles in AWFUL. I have an appointment at 11.45 today.

Vaccinations have changed the face of health care since the late 1600s. The world waits for vaccinations against the Zika virus and Ebola. We can only dream of a vaccine against cancer.

But wait, there IS one! HPV cancers like cervical cancer, anal cancer and throat cancer CAN be prevented. There’s a VACCINE.

Get your kids vaccinated now to prevent them from getting this horrible cancer in their young middle age!

              

Almost Ready - Two Days of Radiation Therapy Planning

Well, we thought we knew what the plan was. But, I’m quietly, but definitely, coming to the conclusion, that one key character requirement for dealing with the Public Health Service is Flexibility. It seems that no matter what you’re told about the plan going forward, you’d better allow for changes on the fly.

So, Monday morning and we’re off to Southern Community Laboratories in Hastings for a blood test before we hit the highway to Palmerston North (PN). When I rock up to the counter with the form from the Radiation Oncologist in PN, the lady behind the counter looks at the form, looks back at me and asks; “Who gave you this?” It seems that, regardless of the “indecipherable scrawls” on the piece of paper, none of the necessary boxes were filled out or ticked, nor had the doctor put his name on it. Anyway, she asked me a few questions and after listening to the answers, did her own bit of scrawling and ticking on the form, gave it back to me, told me to take a number and a seat and someone would sort me out soon.

Isn’t it strange how every Phlebotomist has their own way of going about getting blood out of you? This one decided that the best place was the inside of the elbow – remember the time I got an infection that put me in hospital for two weeks? Well, after using my right arm as a pin cushion a few times and then, after actually listening to what I was trying to tell her, she used a vein on the back of my hand – and, guess what? Job done.

Back in the car and heading to PN for about ten minutes and my phone rings. It’s the ORL Nurse from Hawkes Bay Hospital, ringing to tell me I need a blood test urgently. After a couple of minutes of confusion and miscommunication it seems that the test I just had didn’t tick all the boxes and - could I please go straight to the PN Radiation Centre, pick up another blood form, and they’ll tell me where to go!

For the blood test.

Something to look forward to for the next two and half hours.

Anyway, that all happens, and then we head to Ozanam House. After a slight detour – caused by the passenger giving wrong directions – we arrive at Reception and it all looks very nice. One of the lovely ladies that manages the place takes us over to Ryan House and shows us through the kitchen, lounge and Resident’s Laundry, explaining how things work as we go. Then she shows us to our room and leaves us to sort ourselves out.

Now, just so you all understand what Ozanam House is, here’s a bit if a paraphrased extract from their website…

Later that evening we decided to go for a wander and a little bit of exploring. Turns out Ryan House has two lounges and two huge kitchens. As we wander into the “big” lounge we’re greeted by all those sitting around chatting and watching TV. Then we wander into the kitchen and there’s another group of people that greet us as they’re preparing their meals. It’s all very friendly and informal and the atmosphere is very relaxed.

Throughout the next day, when we’re not at the hospital, we get to introduce ourselves to some of the residents and find out a little bit about their stories. We soon find out that everyone has very different issues with cancer and – a light bulb moment for me – I find out that most people want to talk about it. Interestingly, the people who did tell us their stories were quite positive about their situation and had nothing but praise for the levels of treatment and support they were receiving, both from the Hospital Staff and from the Ozanam House Staff.

So, after a good night’s sleep it’s off to the Hospital to have my mask made. Now, if you’ve been paying attention, you’ll know that the plan was – get my mask made today and have a CT scan and MRI tomorrow. But, apparently the Nurses in the Radiation Unit had their own plan. 

This started off with me getting a Canula fitted for the CT Scan. My first reaction: Mild panic – thinking the Canula would be left in overnight for the MRI. I immediately thought back to the last time a Canula was left in and I ended up spending two weeks in hospital with an infection. Anyway, after being assured that the CT Scan was happening that afternoon and that the Canula was coming out immediately after, I relaxed and sat on the bed while the Nurse made half a dozen attempts to get the needle in.

Boy, this is fun.

Eventually, she gave up and went to get the Resident, who’s apparently the recognized PN champion blood sucker. Well, he had a couple of failed attempts, told me a joke about how he wasn’t feeling anything, and eventually found a spot that worked.

Then we were off - round the corner - to sort out the mask. But before that, we all had to make sure that I was me, and that I knew all about how to make a mask. The lovely young nurse explained the whole process to me, most of which went straight over my head, but I did come to understand that my part in the process was to lie on this very hard board and keep still. So, I did that while they worked their magic.

First thing they did was to put a lump of “stuff” (think white bread dough) under the back of my head, wet it a little bit and then shaped it around my neck. After they apply a bit of magic liquid (I think, it’s water), this “stuff” sets firmly and becomes my “pillow” for each radiation session.

No, I’m not having a snooze.

Then it’s onto the mask. Pretty simple really. They take a flat sheet of perforated plastic, heat it up – then a nurse stands at the top of the bed with the plastic sheet in both hands and quickly, but gently, pulls it down over my face. To me, it wasn’t much different to having a warm towel placed on your face. Very little pressure. Then they cool it down with wet flannels. Once the plastic cools and becomes hard, you can’t move. I think this might be when some of us tend to freak out a bit, but I wasn’t too bothered.

Gotta say, after all the information, hype and warnings about radiation masks that I’ve listened to since starting on this journey, the actual experience was a bit of an anti-climax. I really feel quite relaxed about it now, and hopefully this feeling won’t change too much as the treatments progress.

Seems there’s no lying about allowed. They take off the mask, get me off the bed and send me across the hall for the CT Scan. Once again, we go through the ID process to make sure I’m the same guy that just got a mask fitted, and into the machine I go. Now, this is a CT with contrast. I’ve had a few of these before and, once again, I get all the warnings about side effects – hot flushes and a strong desire to wet yourself. Luckily, I only get the flushes. Apparently, the contrast can affect people differently.

Anyway, the scan finishes, the Canula’s removed and I’m shunted out the door. From overheard conversations during all these processes, I hear there were more than 50 patients having some form of treatment in this particular unit that day. For such a busy place, the staff were amazingly relaxed and friendly and made the whole experience much less traumatic than it might have been.

It’s now not long after lunchtime, so we decide to call into a Café, directly across the road from the main hospital entrance. It’s called Café Zest. Unfortunately, they don’t have a website, but we’ve decided it’s going to be our go to place in PN for good food. We really enjoyed the meals and will most definitely be back.

Another relaxed night at Ozanam House watching TV and chatting with the other residents, and then next morning, we’re back at the hospital, for an MRI. Well… it’s actually not the hospital. It’s kind of an Annex and it’s run by a commercial radiation firm, and guess what? They want to know who I am and what my medical history is. So, after two pages of filling out forms, we start playing the Canula game again, but this time it only takes three goes before the blood starts pumping, and then… turns out this is no ordinary MRI. This is a “Planning” MRI. The difference is – instead of being in the machine for about twenty minutes, I’m in there for about fifty minutes.

Now this might not seem like a big deal, and it’s not really, but… I’m going to use this experience to point out a couple of simple things that can really make a difference to someone travelling down the cancer road. I know there are some Medical people who read this so, when you’re talking to future patients, please keep in mind that it’s little things like this that can make all the difference to a patient’s experience and their wellbeing.

During the original meeting with the Radiation Oncologist, I was asked if I’d had an MRI previously. When I said yes, he asked me about reactions to Contrast and then he moved on to the next question. The previous day, before the mask was made, (during the “prep” talk), I was asked the same question by the Nurse. When I was having the Canula fitted before the MRI, the Technician asked me the same thing, but, again, didn’t explain the time difference. If, on any of these occasions, the person talking to me had gone on to tell me it was a ‘Planning” MRI and would take a lot longer than the previous MRI’s, then…

I would have been better prepared to remain in the machine for a longer time without wondering what was happening, and…

My wife wouldn’t have been sitting out in the waiting room wondering what was taking so long.

As I said, this is not a “Big Thing” but, it is one of the “Little Things” that can be added to other “Little Things” that do have a big impact on a person’s anxiety levels and comfort levels during these procedures. As a lot of people are fond of saying... Effective communication can make all the difference.

Enough of that. When the MRI was over, we wandered off back to Osanam House, retrieved the car and headed back to Hastings.

Man, it’s great to sleep in your own bed.

It’s going to be a big week again next week. I’m getting a special sleeve to reduce the scaring on my arm and, hopefully, by the end of the week we’ll have a plan to sort my eye out. I’ll let you know how it all goes.

Remember…

An Impatient Patient

Well, this is about the fifteenth time I’ve started this. It may well end up in the bin, like all the others. The main reason I’ve trashed them is that now, for some reason, I always seem to write about the negatives. Maybe that’s because there haven’t been too many positives. It’s been over a month since my last post and it’s been one of the most difficult times since I started on this journey. I’m absolutely sure it’s been a really difficult time for my wife as well – even though she’s become the very definition of stoic. Me, not being able to drive (double vision) means that she’s doing it all with a grumpy old passenger for company. It also means her social life’s gone way downhill ‘cause she’s taking me to all my appointments. This included a two and a half hour drive each way to Palmerston North for a forty-five minute appointment with a Radiation Oncologist.

So, about that appointment. 

Denise and I sat in a room with this very polite and respectful gentleman while he proceeded to scare us both for what seemed to be an exceedingly excessive period of time. We now know all the things that “could” go wrong with the Radiation Therapy. Best outcome seems to be further damage to my eye – no one knows how much. On top of that I could end up with short-term memory loss. That’ll be fun – I can never find my keys now.

I guess my real problem’s been that physically, everything’s fine - apart from my eye – but everything seems to be taking forever and I’ve got far too much free time. Over the past month I’ve been to numerous appointments with Specialists and Therapists but at the end of each appointment the forward progress seems to be either minimal or nothing.

Reading back over this, I sound petty and ungrateful, don’t I? Hang on a tick. I’ll be back in a minute - I’m just going to wander down to the Supplement shop and get something to sort out my attitude.

So, here’s where I’m at with all the wonderful people trying their best to help me…

The Hand Therapist has been terrific and is happy with my progress. and now she’s arranging for a special sleeve for me to wear. She’s pretty serious about it and she and Denise have come to an “arrangement” to make sure I wear it. Does this qualify as Elder Abuse? It’s to try to reduce the scaring on my arm.

Looking at my arm now, compared to what it looked like two months ago, I realize I should be much happier with my progress than I sound. So, just ignore the moaning, 'cause I think my head’s in a reasonably good place.

Here’s a thing!

When I was in Auckland the Eye Clinic sent a referral to the Ophthalmology Department at Hawkes Bay Hospital. Turns out, this was one of the pieces of paper that I never got to see - not that I think it would have made any difference if I had – although it might have lessened the frustration a little. According to the Booking Office at HBH the appointment was to be at least six weeks after the referral date. It also appears that I was to see a different Specialist to have my eyes “measured” before the ophthalmology appointment. So, after what turned out to be two months, I received confirmation of both appointments, one on a Monday and the other on the following Wednesday. All good – things are starting to move again.

  

On the Monday morning, I get a phone call to say the first appointment has been cancelled and it’ll be rescheduled, but the Wednesday appointment still stands. So off we go on Wednesday to see the Ophthalmologist and one of the first things she says is…

“We need to get you to see another Specialist to get your eyes measured so we can see what’s going on.”

What the…???

Anyway, after a prod and a poke and another look at my discharge summary we all agreed that another CT scan is called for. Hopefully this’ll show if an eye muscle or nerve is being pinched by the tin under my eye. So that’s now on the “to do” list.

YES!!! On the following Wednesday we went to get my eyes measured. Gotta say, over the years I’ve had a lot of eye tests but nothing like this one. The Specialist started off with a black wand to cover one eye, a “ruler” that had different glass sections in it and a normal ruler. After testing each eye about five times each she told us she couldn’t work out what was happening, ‘cause each time I moved my eyes the reading changed – this kinda indicated that my right eye was doing whatever it wanted,  regardless of what I was  trying to tell it to do. 

So, then she sat me in front of a chart on the wall that had a hatched pattern. I was given a green laser light and told to place the green light on top of the red light that she was shining right in the middle of the chart. Then she started moving the light all over the place while telling me to follow along placing the green light on top of the red light.

Well, I gotta say – I thought I aced it. But as we walked out Denise challenged me to a  Target Shooting competition before she told me I wasn’t getting anywhere close to the red light. That was a bit of an eye opener. (Sorry.)

Anyway, now I’ve got a bit more of a clue about what’s going on. It seems when I look up or down, or to either side, my right eye doesn’t travel as far, or at the same speed, as my left so I end up seeing two images. When I look straight ahead both eyes are pretty much looking in the same direction except, my right eye is rotated clockwise about five degrees which means one image is straight up and down and the other is tilted.

And for the icing on the cake… all the Specialists are telling me that my eyesight will get worse with radiation. Something to look forward to.

Yay!!! Finally got the call.

On Monday we’re off to Palmerston North again. This time for a couple of days. The first day is for make-up and wardrobe. Apparently, I’ll be wearing a mask every day to stop me fidgeting.

The second day is for more CT scans and MRIs.

At this rate I’ll be glowing before the therapy even starts.

So, we’ll be spending Monday and Tuesday nights at Ozanam House in Palmerston North.

The Palmerston North facility is run by a Charitable Trust that was established by the St Vincent de Paul Society and the Cancer Society to provide accommodation for patients receiving cancer treatment at Palmerston North Hospital. It’s where we’ll be staying when the treatment actually starts, and you’ll be hearing more about this facility and the work they do in my future posts.

But for now you can see more about this facility at… www.ozanamhouse.org.nz or click on the same link in the website menu on the right.

So, that's us. All up to date. Hopefully the next post won’t be so long in coming.

Till then, take care of each other and remember to be kind.

I know - Let's go to A&E!

It’s been a month now, since the surgery. Gotta say, it’s been a bit up and down. As those of you who’ve travelled this type of path will know, you tend to get good days and not so good days. When I look back at my “lows” over the past month, and I compare my journey with others I know of, I consider myself to be relatively fortunate. There were only two really standout events. One was an a Staph infection in my arm – which was relegated to the soon to be forgotten past with the use of some antibiotics. The other was a visit to the A&E Department of the hospital to get someone to check out my eye.

It kinda started in the early hours of a Friday morning, so we decided a trip to the A&E before the weekend was a good idea. We had to hang around at home in the morning ‘cause the District Nurse was coming to change my dressings, but after she’d been and gone, off we went. My last trip to A&E was about five years ago when I had an unexpected bleed after my first cancer removal surgery. Well, let me tell you – things have certainly changed.

After the obligatory three times round the carpark to find a slot, and then wandering the corridors of the hospital for awhile we arrived at A&E. (Actually, I think they just call it the Emergency Department these days – not really sure, and don’t really care.) Anyway, we fronted up to a counter that any bank in New Zealand would be envious of, found the 100mm. wide slot in the plexiglass and started to tell Ms. Grump – first name Surly – why we were interrupting her day. After identifying myself and coming up with, what we thought, was a plausible reason for being there, we were instructed to “Sit on the Red Chairs” which we did with a fair degree of alacrity.

After waiting for a few minutes, Ms. Grump came out from behind the barricades armed with a number of clipboards, called out a name and a man next to us perked up, said yes and was handed one of the clipboards with instructions to make sure he was who the piece of paper on the clipboard said he was. We went through the same process, which left Ms. Grump with one more clipboard. When she called out a name, a guy behind us answered. Well, protocol went straight out the window as Ms. Grump immediately told him off for not sitting on the red chairs. The cheek of the guy – making her take an extra two steps to hand him the clipboard. But I think really, it probably made her day – giving her an opportunity to growl at someone.

Anyway, we were soon called up by the Triage Nurse – who lives behind her own little plexiglass barricade, did a review on who we were and why we were there, and were then told to go and wait on the grey seats until we were called. So, off we went, found some seats and “people watched” until we were summoned.

After some time – more than five minutes but less than an hour – we were identified and escorted into a treatment area where we watched on as the nurse who took us in had a fight with a bedsheet and pillow. After ensuring that the sheet was sufficiently subdued I was instructed to sit on the edge of the bed, which I did immediately - I didn't want any of the hurt she'd inflicted on the sheet. She then went through the ID process and started gazing into my eyes, while making noises like “tut” and “mmmmm” and then poking me in various places while asking if it hurt. Anyway, after awhile she went away and started writing what I think was her shopping list, on a computer. 

Sometime after that another lady turned up who identified herself as a Nurse Practitioner. After more gazing and tutting she announced that I needed an eyesight test and took us into a different room that had an Eyechart stuck on a very distant wall. Then she got out a very bright light and got up close and personal. After an “ah hah” moment she announced that I had eyelashes facing into my eye instead of out and, also what she thinks might be suture material in my eye.

Right, I thought, let’s get it out so I can go home. Well, that wasn’t a happening thing. “I’m not touching it,” she says. “I’m going to ring the Ophthalmologist and see if they can have a look at you.” So, to cut a long story short, once more we find ourselves sitting on the grey chairs waiting to find out what the plan is. After not too long, we’re told to set out to find Villa 3 where there’s currently an eye clinic in progress. Soon, we find ourselves in a little room in Villa 3 where a nice young man is busy shining more bright lights at me. After awhile he puts some numbing eyedrops in and proceeds to pluck my eyelashes. Then he asks me if my eye feels better? I say yes, not really knowing if he’s fixed the problem or if the numbing drops are busy at work.

Next thing – a familiar face pops her head in the door. It’s the Eye Surgeon who, after removing a BCC from my lower eyelid, referred me to the Maxillofacial Surgeon who found the cancer. I’ll be forever grateful to her for that referral, because she took the time to listen and take note of my whinging.  She has a look at my eye and straight away she’s making a plan. So, I’ll be seeing her again soon, hopefully to sort out my double vision.

It turns out it was just on four hours to get myself sorted out. I’m quite happy with that. Once again, the Public Hospital system has worked a treat for me – identifying and fixing the problem while dealing with all their protocols and systems.

So, just to recap, since I got back from Auckland, I’ve been…

• Visited by a District Nurse for dressing changes three times a week.
• Referred to a Hand Therapist to make sure my left arm and wrist are recovering properly from the surgery – which they are.
• Referred to a Physio to make sure I don’t have any neck or shoulder issues from the Neck Resection – which I don’t.
• Referred to the Eye Clinic to sort out the material scratching my eye. Which they did
• Back to Auckland Hospital for a checkup, where the Surgeon was pretty chuffed with his own handiwork – as was I - and where I found out there were clear margins all around the cancer that was removed.

And now I’m going to be…

• Referred to Ophthalmology to sort out my double vision.
• Referred to the Radiotherapy Oncologist to schedule the radiotherapy which will be done in Palmerston North. 

Busy, busy!!

No, not really. I gotta say, I miss working.

Weird, right?

Anyway, I’m still on the lookout for something to fill my days, even though I know I won’t be able to settle down to anything until after the Radiotherapy. In the meantime, I guess I’ll just keep pumping out drivel like this.

Thanks to all of you who’ve been in touch. I really do appreciate your kind wishes and your concern. I hope you are all keeping yourselves healthy and enjoying life. Remember…