I rang the Royal this morning to confirm that I wanted to go ahead with Doxorubicin and even though I know it had been a foregone conclusion that this was the way I would go, especially following B’s and mine indepth discussion* of treatment options, I knew I had made the right decision because as soon as I got off the phone I felt lighter. That feeling that comes from knowing you have made the right choice. And it’s red – how cool is that? I’m a sucker for brightly coloured medication.
However this means that I won’t be starting Velcade today and the Day Unit are ringing me back later with an appointment for the PICC line to be fitted. Now the one thing I particularly wasn’t looking forward to on my SCT holiday was the Hickman line and even though I had to look away at the sight of one on my recent holiday, I didn’t actually mind it as long as it wasn’t hooked up to the dreaded IV machine!
On Sunday the site of Sean’s PICC line nearly caused a domestic. As we all know men are notoriously bad at multi tasking – I’m sure it’s been clinically proven but ‘we’ all just KNOW anyway – so no arguing. The company B works for is changing its pension provider and forms had to be filled in. B kindly brought these in for me on my recent holiday and I completed them. However one form I misinterpreted, said he didn’t need it and ripped it up and apparently he needed that one too!
This form was to the old provider and the bit that B needed to complete wanted information on the new provider – basic information which we couldn’t find on anything. So B came into the room with his pension stuff just as I was taking another gander (look) at Sean’s PICC line and having a minor ohhh errrr moment. Having read about it going in previously there were some things I wanted to get off my chest – I mean I’d had an ohhh moment when I first saw it but felt the additional errrr when I realised I may soon have one of my very own. Meanwhile B was sat next to me staring at a piece of pension paperwork and even though I knew he wasn’t listening I carried on regardless and then when I had finished he asked a pension related question!
* This should be read on Saturday night B was coming out of the bedroom, I was heading into the bathroom and B said something along the lines of ‘So this other drug may make your hair fall out?’ I replied ‘Yes and it might make me sick.’ B responded ‘I’d rather have you bald than bonkers.’ Discussion over. Don’t worry all really important major decisions are made in a similar way – there’s none of this debating the ins and outs for hours, completing pro and con lists, and the little nuances that may make a big difference.