Week 2 - Day 6

Gail was already dressed and ready to go when I showed up on the ward at 11am. Only a couple more things to do before we returned home... To take out the PICC line that runs from her arm to her heart, and to collect a take-out bag of drugs. With one deft stroke, the nurse had pulled a long thin blue line out from Gail's arm like a magician pulling handkerchiefs from his mouth. I was expecting the line to be covered in blood. But I could hardly detect a smear. How did she do that? Magic indeed. Gail was asked to lie still on her bed for fifteen minutes before getting up. Time enough for her blood to coagulate and properly seal the hole that was the line entrance. In that fifteen minutes the drugs had arrived. The nurses knew that we had a long journey ahead of us, so they made sure we wouldn't have to delay our departure waiting for the drugs – about half a dozen different kinds. And, rather than following the usual process of going through patient discharge, we would be allowed to leave straightaway.

There was one more test, however, that Gail had to pass before she was allowed to make her exit. The many litres of fluid that had drenched her system over the past week, had inflated her body terribly. It's a normal reaction. In Gail's case, the fluid mostly settled in her arms, tummy, hips and in particular, in her legs. Her legs above the knee soaked up more of the excess fluid than anywhere else, her skin there was taught and hard like a drum. The skin on her shins was stretched over the tibia like tight, shining cling film wrapping. Her ankles were double the size and felt like they were about to burst with the pressure. All this makes any movement like bending her legs at the knees, moving her feet, sitting up and down, even just standing, quite difficult as there's hardly any elasticity left in her skin.

So, the final test was, the weigh-in. She needed to weigh less than her allowed maximum weight before she could safely leave to go home. (The maximum weight should be no more than 15% above the weight you were at the start of the week's treatment. The weight gain is caused by the fluids that accumulate in the system). Thankfully, she weighed in at one kilo under that maximum figure. A woman's prerogative prevents me from telling you the actual weight. ; )

So, now we were good to go. Carefully, I escorted Gail down the long corridor, down three floors in the lift and out of the hospital into a bright but cold blowy day. I'd brought the car round to the hospital entrance, eased her into the seat, got her comfy with a cushion, then set off on the three hour long journey back to our home.

As we were driving out of Manchester and onto the motorway, Gail suddenly announced that she really fancied a Burger King. Nothing too fancy, just a Whopper... No cheese, no toppings, no chips – just a little green salad. But, it had to be a Burger King. In all the time I've been with Gail, I never knew she had a preference for any burger over another. I can't even remember the last time we had a burger from Burger King. Thankfully, and coincidentally, a service station with a Burger King outlet was just up ahead. I pulled in and left Gail dozing in the car while I got her the burger.

Now to put this into sharper perspective, Gail rarely eats beef, let alone a beef burger. Her diet has been almost completely vegetarian since she was diagnosed with cancer. She has researched and learned what foods, supplements and drinks would help her in her fight to beat her cancer. And she has been sticking by it religiously. Beef was never on the menu.

I got back to the car and as I climbed in, Gail was going on about a loaf of bread on top of the dashboard that was blocking the windscreen. She said there was also a loaf (shaped like a tray!) on her lap. She went on to say that dry crusts of bread were being thrown at her, or dropped on her, hitting her on her wrists. All this happened while I was away getting her burger. However, now that I was back in the car, she soon realised that she didn't see what she'd thought she'd seen. In fact, she was now exhibiting the one classic HDIL-2 side effect that she'd managed to dodge, up till now – hallucinations. By the way, she told me later that it was French bread; bits of crusty French baguette that were being thrown at her, and a rustic style crusty bread (again French - don't know how she could tell) on the dashboard and on her lap...

I found out later, on the journey home, that she'd had a couple of other hallucinations yesterday. I was sitting next to her as usual, writing the blog, it was sometime in the early evening. Suddenly she said "Franco, it's Gianni, on the phone." "Sorry?" I said. My phone wasn't ringing, I wasn't on the phone. I thought Gail was asleep, and perhaps she was dreaming. But then she replied to me, "Gianni! Have you spoken to Gianni? He's on the phone." I reassured her that everything was OK. She must be a bit delirious with all the drugs, I thought.

However, Gail wasn't dreaming, nor delirious. She told me in the car, that she was awake when she was telling me that my brother, Gianni, was trying to get hold of me. Another sign that she was experiencing hallucinations was that she was seeing faces and people in everything surrounding her in her ward. Ghoulish faces, weird faces, people standing near her bed then gone with the next blink of her eyes. These moments of hallucinations, or thinking you're hearing conversations are not prolonged, but they had proved a little unsettling for Gail.

We're home now. The first cycle of HDIL-2 is over, and Gail will now wait two months for the CT scan that will determine if this intensive, short-sharp-shock type treatment, that she herself has chosen to put herself through, has had any effect on her cancer.

And finally...
Gail wanted me to express a couple of things in wrapping up this blog. Firstly, she wants to say a huge and heart-felt thank you to the amazing, caring nurses and doctors at the Christie. The nurses' kindness and compassion has been of great comfort and reassurance to Gail. Whatever they're faced with during the care of their patients, their desire to help and always be on hand together with their positive and sunny disposition has been nothing short of inspiring. Gail can't thank those angels enough.

And secondly she wanted me to say another huge thank you to everyone who has been reading this blog (over 2,700 hits so far). Thank you to all who left comments or sent emails. We read them all. When Gail was feeling low and finding it difficult to tough it out, your words of encouragement would give a tremendous boost to her morale and really helped to keep her on track. Thank you to all who have given in other ways, your generosity has been amazing. And a massive thank you to our daughters whose courage and self-reliance meant we were able to leave them, confident that they were going to be just fine. And thank you to our parents without whose help, we couldn't have done it.

And thank you from me, too, for sticking with me over the last couple of weeks.



Dates for your diary:
3rd July for Gail's CT scan. The result is given on the same day as the scan.
9th July for the start of cycle 2 of HDIL-2 treatment.

Links for further reading:
» Christie Hospital
» Kidney Cancer UK
» Penny Brohn Cancer Care
» James Whale Fund
» NHS - Kidney Cancer
» Cancer Active - Kidney Cancer
» Kidney Cancer USA