A NERVOUS TIME
After the procedure to insert a thin tube into my left kidney, I spent the next five days in a state of anxiety, with a catheter on my back. My worry was caused by the fact that I had been told that after five days the doctor was going to attempt to place a stent into the blocked tube, but that if this didn’t work then I would have to wear a catheter for up to six months! I fretted about this without telling Rob. He was alone at home and he had enough to worry about. I was told there was a 50/50 chance of success. Didn’t seem like great odds, to me.
Covid has made everything worse. Wearing a mask 24-hours a day is grim, and to make matters worse, I couldn’t receive visitors. I wanted to hold Rob’s hand.
You have to remember that I’ve had about 20 Covid tests, sometimes two in one day and waiting for the results is always stressful. I’m always worried that if I become Covid-positive, I won’t be treated. And all this while some stupid people are running around having illegal parties every day while patients like me suffer and health care providers are putting their health at risk.
Fortunately, I have no pain at the moment, just some discomfort. The real pain is my situation: I want Rob to hold me, to feel his soothing touch; to share a cup of tea, just to be near him. I have my weepy moments when all my courage goes out the window and a kind of all-consuming fear rears its ugly head, but I talk to other women on the ward, some of whom also have cancer and we encourage each other. We don’t know each other… and yet we do. We are all sisters connected by our illness.
