More of these cosy bad boys later!
It's strange how things never seem to be straightforward. I don't really know why, but alarm bells had been going off about Mum's CT scan appointment. It's been well over a week since we saw the oncologist and I thought she said that Mum would be seen for a scan within a fortnight. Mum thought the oncologist meant that she would have a date for an appointment within two weeks, so wasn't particularly worried. For some reason it just didn't seem right not to have heard anything, so I checked with Mum today that an appointment hadn't come through in the post and when it hadn't rang the oncologist's secretary. Unfortunately the secretary doesn't send the radiology requests through, they are done from out-patients, so she advised me to ring the radiology appointment at Mum's hospital. I suppose this represents the difficulties of having cancer care at a specialist cancer centre and other appointments for scans, etc, at Mum's local hospital. Referrals are sent away from the specialist centre personnel, who don't necessarily know what's happening in the local hospital. Never a truer thought actually, as when I phoned the appropriate radiology appointments person, she tells me that the appointment seems to be for an MRI rather than a CT. "Oh dear", I say, or words to that effect and explain that Mum will NEVER have an MRI and that the oncologist had specifically requested at CT to get round Mum's claustrophobia problems. The radiology lady said she would look into it and ring me back.
Although I didn't have long to wait, I managed to grab had a corned beef sandwich with brown sauce and tried on my new sheepskin slippers. They are made in England and are indeed cosy bad boys. I also opened a lovely new necklace I ordered from Germany over the internet. Things like this are keeping me sane.
The radiology clerk did call me back and had looked into the referral. What started out as a referral for a CT scan from Mum's oncologist had somehow materialised into an appointment for an MRI. "Oh dear", I said. The lady was very sympathetic and said she would leave a note for one of the radiologists. I said I'd phone through to the oncologist's secretary, who again was very sympathetic and would pass on the message to her consultant. It has all got a bit cloak and dagger as I have colluded with both the radiology clerk and oncology secretary in not telling Mum about the MRI mix up. It would only cause panic and problems, and whilst it feels like I'm being dishonest ("Yes Mum, they're sorting out an appointment for you!") I think avoiding panic and problems is probably best for Mum's well being. And for mine perhaps...
Last week I managed to get Mum to the dentist after all. Unfortunately she had to have a filling, but that was better than having to have the tooth taken out, which was what the dentist really wanted to do. Mum was actually ok after the filling and said she fancied a fishcake from the chip shop, so I stayed for a bit longer than I was going to, went out to the chip shop and had lunch with her. If I can do small things like this, I think I will look back and feel like I tried. I do have an overwhelming feeling at times that we are living on borrowed time, like I really do have such a short amount of time left with Mum, but then I get so tired I feel like I need to have a rest rather than going to see her. Then I sit there, "resting", but my brain is ticking like a bomb because I'm thinking that one day I won't even have the option to nip over to see Mum, because she'll be gone. And then I think that one day I will have to be there to help and take care of things, so I need a reserve to draw on when that day comes, so rest I must. Such are the quandaries of a carer I suppose.
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