Photo Copyright: Maggie May
I had felt so ill over the last week.
My own GP had said that he was not going to give me any antibiotics because I had been on chemo and it would have a detrimental affect on my body. So I struggled on not knowing if it really was a virus or something more sinister. In fact I felt physically and mentally at an all time low.
Today was the day I was to go to the hospital on the hill, for the results of my recent CT scan.
I knew as soon as I got up that I was better. I put on some very colourful clothes, a bright bandana and some very large earrings and thought *To Hell with every one......... no matter what they tell me today, I know I feel fit now.*
Sam, my son, was going to meet me later on and hopefully go in with me when I saw the doctor.
I got a bus into town and ignored the hospital bus that went up the very steep hill and took me to the door. Instead, I walked up the hill and sat down on a wall half way up to recover a bit. I felt good again, doing this. Believe me, when I say it was a hill..... I am talking about steep....... very steep.
Sam got there in time to go in with me and we heard the good news, together that there had been no sign of any infected lymph or any sign of cancer on the scan.
So I was told to get on with my life and come back in three months. I was advised to work if I felt like it but to be prepared to be tired.
So after phoning relatives with the good news, I was eventually home and in jubilant mood.
I felt quite thirsty after my lunch so I thought I'd have a glass of water. I was standing over the sink when the glass slipped out of my hand and not knowing that it had already broken, I instinctively put my hand down into the sink to retrieve it.
I realised my little finger had jagged down on a sharp piece of glass. It bled a lot and I suspected it had gone in deeply.
My first aid training came into operation. I jammed wet wipes and kitchen roll onto the wound and applied pressure while holding my hand above my head.
Every now and then I went to pick up broken glass and wrapped the bits in newspaper and taped it together. Not an easy thing to do while trying to apply pressure and elevate.
Every now and then, I peeked at it and the blood was flowing freely. I guessed I would need stitches.
So I reluctantly had to call Sam and ask him if he could drop me off at the local hospital in the Minor Accident & Emergency Dept.
He could only drop me off as it was almost school pick up time.
I was beginning to feel a burden and a nuisance though Sam never gave me any cause to feel that I was.
After hours of waiting and an xray, it was revealed that I had managed to slice the end off the bone in my little finger (from inside,) and I had the finger stitched.
The worst part is, that I now have to take antibiotics, whether it has a detrimental affect on my body or not because of the serious risk of bone infection following chemo.
Do I just love hospitals, do you think? Or am I just clumsy?
I hate to think how I will have a shower tonight. I am thinking plastic bags and rubber band round wrist.
I am so annoyed to have put myself into this silly new risk after all I have been through and the contentment of the three months ahead, now being shortened again by incapacity.