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I had my first radiotherapy treatment on Monday evening. Sam wanted to drive me there, and because I was rather nervous on the journey to the hospital I didn’t say much (not that I’m much of a talker anyway). We arrived at 18:30 just in time for the last appointment of the evening, but instead of seeing an empty waiting room, it was overflowing with patients waiting for radiotherapy.
One of the CT scanners had broken down, and so there was a backlog of patients all now having to use the only scanner available. We were told to ‘go for a coffee’ and return an hour later. Not a good start! We walked around the main concourse and found a café, but the time seemed to pass very slowly. When we returned to the Radiotherapy Department there were still 6 patients to be seen.
By the time it came for me to be treated it was 20:40 and I was more angry than nervous. The mask fitted snugly with a few adjustments, and I asked them to switch on the CD player so that I could listen to my audio book. However, the scanner was too noisy, and I couldn’t hear a word. The treatment took 20 minutes, and we didn’t get home until 22:00.
Not a very good start, but while sitting in the café down at the front of the hospital, all human life sick or well passes before your eyes. I saw a little child standing on a mobile drip stand to which he was attached to, with his father pushing him about. He seemed to be enjoying the ride. Thin, pale patients wearing pyjamas and carrying sick bowls wandered down to buy a newspaper, and elderly people in wheelchairs were pushed to appointments by middle-aged sons and daughters. One lady in a wheelchair was crying bitterly.
Each of these people have their own story to tell, and all I can do is applaud the seemingly ever-friendly and approachable staff of Addenbrooke’s Hospital who have the duty of looking after us all. Some of these workers in Radiotherapy were voluntarily staying on 2 hours after they should have gone home, just so that myself and others before me could have our treatment. It would have been soul-destroying to have to travel the 50 miles home again without being seen, and they knew it.
I’ve learned a few tips already: Take music instead of an audio book to listen to, and take a thin blanket onto the scanner because it’s cold in there. Be pleasant to the staff who go the extra mile, because they do not want a broken down scanner any more than you do. Last but not least, I must be grateful I’m feeling so well, because by the look of it, there are many, many people who are not.
Above the main reception desk on the way out I took comfort yet again from the words that have been written there for years: ‘It’ll pass, whatever it is.’
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cathleentownsend said:
Thanks for sharing this. We here so much about all the uncaring sorts in this world–it means a lot to hear about the other side. I’ll pray for your recovery.
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Stevie Turner said:
Thank you.
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Bernadette said:
Stevie, I am happy to read that the first treatment didn’t make you physically ill and from reading this post it sounds like your spirit and outlook on life haven’t become ill either. Keeping you in my prayers.
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Stevie Turner said:
Apparently you don’t get nauseous with thyroid cancer radiotherapy, which is a bonus for a start!
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simonfalk28 said:
Beautiful post. So considerate of all the people. Thanks for joining our blogfest Simon’s Still Stanza #WATWB
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Stevie Turner said:
Thanks Simon.
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Clive said:
Lovely post, Stevie. I hope your treatment goes well. For all its faults and the bad press it gets, our NHS provides a wonderful service – largely due to the people who work in it.
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Stevie Turner said:
Thanks Clive. The staff in the Radiotherapy Dept are lovely.
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dgkaye said:
A beautiful, telling post Stevie. I’m glad you linked it to #WATWB because as scary as they can be, hospitals save lives. And I’m happy to know that the doctors and staff are compassionate and you received your treatment, albeit late. I”m thinking of you, you warrior woman! ❤
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Stevie Turner said:
The staff in the Radiotherapy Unit are lovely. One young lady squeezed my hands and told me I remind her of her Mum!
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dgkaye said:
That’s touching. I remember when my husband went through radiation 6 years ago now, how wonderful the staff were to both of us. Those things count when your life is in jeopardy. 🙂
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Stevie Turner said:
Absolutely. They’re all doing a sterling job, probably under pressure too I expect.
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dgkaye said:
No doubt! 🙂
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Stevie Turner said:
Sometimes life is one step forward and two steps back.
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Osyth said:
A levelling and moving piece of writing. You have my absolute respect for writing it, for drawing attention to those that are sufferering and the humility to let us into your personal anger and frustration because in the end this is not about being beatified it is, hopefully a simple matter of trying to get better and hitting painful and annoying bumps.
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robjodiefilogomo said:
Wow Stevie. You really know how to find a silver lining in this. But I think we all need to do that, because (most of the time) our issues are so much less than those around us!
And it is so easy to get upset when things don’t go as planned, but technology and equipment really have a mind of their own, huh?
I’m so glad you are feeling okay (and I take a blanket/scarf almost everywhere too!)
jodie
http://www.jtouchofstyle.com
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Stevie Turner said:
Just come home after the third treatment, and so far so good.
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franklparker said:
Gosh – I had no idea it was going to be a daily ordeal. At least that means it will be all over soon.
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Stevie Turner said:
Not until 10th May.
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Darlene said:
You are in my thoughts and prayers. Sending hugs. ❤
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Stevie Turner said:
Thanks Darlene.
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thejuicenut said:
This brought tears to my eyes, especially the hospital motto. I’m glad you were able to have your treatment, my mum’s 80 yr old neighbour had her hip operation cancelled three times and as she lives on her own, she had had to make all sorts of arrangements only to cancel them and go through the whole thing again. What a shame about the audiobooks, so much for my advice! Hope it gors more smoothly next time 🌷
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Stevie Turner said:
Thanks. It went a bit better yesterday.
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mariaholm said:
I agree with you. This post brought tears to my eyes too.
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jenanita01 said:
my prayers are with you, Stevie, and I too hope it passes smoothly. I love the hospital motto too, how inspiring!
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Stevie Turner said:
Yes it is. Thanks.
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Jessica Bakkers said:
Can’t say too much (too emotional)… just that you fight my friend. Every step. Applaud those who work tirelessly yes, but don’t you stop fighting. That’s the best way you can thank them.
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watchingthedaisies said:
Such a beautiful post Stevie. Hospitals are a great leveller and so many great doctors and nurses give so much with very little gratitude in return. I hope your treatments run smoothly and you continue to be embraced with lots of love and support. God bless.😍
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Stevie Turner said:
Thank you!
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Madelyn Griffith-Haynie, MCC, SCAC said:
Oh Stevie – I’m glad you had the courage to post this on the Senior Salon – very empathy inducing. Posts like these are not easy – how much to share, maintaining a careful a balance between positive remarks and those that are not. I hope everyone who participates reads it and takes the time to comment positively.
But no audiobooks? That’s a huge disappointment I’m sure. Who knew, right?
I always have the same response to hospitals as you expressed above – grateful for whatever the level of health in my body seeing so many who are SO sick. And I’ll bet you were grateful that Sam was there to wait with you, too.
God bless the staff who chose to stay. I have read similar stories where the blogger had to make a return trip of a great many miles – one with vertigo SO intense that the ride alone was torture for her.
You have my prayers – and I wish you lived close enough I could offer more.
xx,
mgh
(Madelyn Griffith-Haynie – ADDandSoMuchMORE dot com)
ADD Coach Training Field founder; ADD Coaching co-founder
“It takes a village to transform a world!”
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Stevie Turner said:
Thanks Madelyn. Sam is a tower of strength.
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Madelyn Griffith-Haynie, MCC, SCAC said:
Good for him! I hope he is getting support from somewhere, however – some place to dump those thoughts he might be afraid to share with you.
When my Dad’s 2nd wife was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s I was sooooo relieved when he finally joined a caregivers support group (not at all like him, btw). Not the same thing, of course, but even towers of strength can find the journey difficult.
xx,
mgh
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Stevie Turner said:
If he was, he wouldn’t say!
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Madelyn Griffith-Haynie, MCC, SCAC said:
No, I suppose not. I’ll include him in my prayers for you.
xx,
mgh
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Stevie Turner said:
Thank you.
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Madelyn Griffith-Haynie, MCC, SCAC said:
You are MOST welcome. Remember, I’m a long-time melanoma survivor, so I do have a bit of insight into some of the difficulties you are currently facing – from my own perspective, of course.
xx,
mgh
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