The Pump Room
11:39 pm | No Comments » |
The other day I really got angry. You go through all this crud and your doctors and nurses just keep throwing more stuff at you. I came in for my regular chemo injection. I arrived feeling quite “well”. The day before I might even say that I felt “good”. On my chart was a note saying that I needed a transfusion! Blood results showed that my hemaglobin had fallen below my 80 threshold. The nurse could see that I was getting agitated.
“How can I need a transfusion if I feel so good? I mean, whats the point!? You think you are doing better and then you come in here and get hammered with more bad news.”
She looked at me (they all “know” what I am like by now) and said, “I’m suprised you can even walk, much less go to work and say you feel good. Most people would be flat on their back. You are booked in tomorrow at ten.”
And that was that. I fumed some more and didn’t notice the burning chemo injection.
The next day I was back in the pump room. That is not he official name, but that is what it is. Each treatment chair has a pump next to it. A Plum II. Yup, even has a little purple plum logo. These little units sit there and pump whatever into your veins. Chemo, blood products or any other IV concoction. All make the same little noise, but each one has a little different cadence. If you are lucky you can use it to fall to sleep.
Looking down the line of chairs you can see everyone attached to their Plum II. Some are asleep, others reading and some talking to their husbands or wives. Nobody really talks to each other in the pump room. Most don’t want to know what is going on with anybody else. I do, but it is not polite to ask. Nor is it polite to eavesdrop. Yet when the next chair is only five feet away it is hard not to overhear the hushed remarks of a patient and nurse or other family member.
I felt sorry for Hazel. She must have been pushing eighty, and was hooked up to more chemo bags that could fit on an IV pole. I could tell that she was done. Her fight was gone and I didn’t blame her one iota. Yet, there was here daugther telling the nurse that the family was upset that Hazel had mentioned that she wanted to stop treatment. IMAGINE. The family was UPSET. The daughter-in-law was beside herself! Before you knew it a social worker had been summoned to talk to Hazel and suggest that maybe there were reasons she should keep going through chemo hell. Hazel wearily nodded and resigned herself to more of the same, pills, pumps and pain. All because her family wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
Most people in the pump room want to be invisible. You don’t want to attract attention and if you do, you politely end any conversation. It is not that people want to be rude. They just don’t want to hear anything that may put them behind. I learned a long time ago, not to tell people what I had and that I was doing well. You would notice someone else down the line stiffen. Obviously, they had the same thing, yet true or not, they were not doing as well as me. It is easy to take the wind out someone’s sails by being a little too optomistic. So everyone protects themselves by staying in their bubble.
A weird place the pump room. A great place to spend five hours getting a transfusion you don’t want to have. It wouldn’t be so bad if I got blood from say Brad Pitt. However, it seems that I keep getting it from an older set. Afterwards all I want to do is knit and yell at children to get off my lawn.
SK
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April 28, 2012
Evil Mirrors
2:44 pm | No Comments » |I didn’t mention mirrors. Stay away from them. THEY ARE EVIL!!!
I made the mistake of looking in a full length mirror the other day. Of course, I had just come out of the shower. No clothing for camoflage. It wasn’t pretty. It never has been, but now the evil side of the mirror came bursting forth. It had stolen my shoulders. I had shoulders, I know I did. It took way my rear. That was one thing I always could count on. Even my grandfather said to me once “Yup you’re a —–. You’re short and you have a fat ass.” Made me feel all warm and fuzzy. That mirror stole every bit of muscle I had. It stole it all and gave me the body of an eighty year old. Bones, wrinkly skin, sunken eyes. I’ve seen people in caskets that looked better. And for what?! What is that damn mirror going to do with my body?
Mirrors. Don’t trust ‘em. Don’t even look at them. I’ll look at a blank wall and see who I want to see right now, thank you very much.
SK
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April 26, 2012
The Touch
7:03 pm | No Comments » |There is one thing you quickly learn about Chemo Therapy and fighting cancer. It is the lonliest experience you will ever have. While you have family and freinds wishing you on and telling you to get better, it still falls on you to make it happen. There isn’t anyone else who can do anything. It is up to you the “loser” to grit your teeth and move on. People are shocked when I tell them I feel like the biggest loser ever. Unless they have had cancer. Then they get it. You are a father, a husband and a son or daughter. People count on you – especially your children. And what do they get? Someone who can’t even stay healthy. Do you know of a son or daughter who are happy hearing that their mother or father may die? Me neither.
You get beyond that and you promise yourself not to let anyone down. You promise that you willl keep putting one foot in front of the other, even though you have no idea where your journey will end.
Then it happens. It may be on the arm or through the computer screen. You get the touch. Someone reaches out and touches you. The other day it was a nurse working with my kidney specialist. She had been following my case. The medical screw up that took away 15% of my left kidney. The eight days in hospital getting blood transfusion after transfusion. “You have had a rough go” she said. She touched my arm and said “I have been there and even though you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, its still there.”
And that was all it took. Like an email from an old friend that said “You have beat it before, you will do it again”.
The little touches that keep you going.
SK
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April 9, 2012
A Little Therapy
2:56 pm | 1 Comment » |Chemo wards are interesting places. The whirring pumps, deliverying the poisons into each patient’s body. The bald heads and blankets. The smiles and comraderie. Yet no one tells you their name. Everyone battles in silence, knowing that you are all fighting the same foe. Young and old, male or female, the enemy and fight is still the same. It is a quiet dignity. Nobody complains. Bodies wasted away from the long treatments, people endure. It is actually a source of strength.
Then there is my little pixie. A young girl from Newfoundland. I got used to her pink and fucia hats and bandanas. I got used to her smile. She has been through a lot and has more to come. I complained of a procedure that I have had to endure five times. She told me that she had more that twenty one. She told me with a smile. THAT smile that could still light up a room. On her last day, before she went home to finish her treatments, I wished her luck. I should have thanked her for making the world a better place. I should have asked her name.
Sour Kraut
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March 26, 2012
A Life on Hold
1:17 pm | 1 Comment » |Sorry folks, I haven’t forgotten about you. Something has gotten in the way. The gift that keeps on giving has once again raised its ugly head. I have been battling ( and winning I might add ) cancer for fifteen years. Now its back with a vengeance.
I have sixteen weeks of chemo and then hopefully a stem cell transplant in my future. Once I get through that its off to the races again.
Until then, I have to admit my energy for posting comments will be quite diminished. Things still tick me off, but I am kinda letting them slide.
The big downside is that I have had to tell my children. Up to now I have been able to keep it from them with little fibs and other distractions. Not anymore. I will never forgive cancer for that.
Until then, I remain,
A Sour Kraut
BTW – Cancer Sucks!
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February 1, 2012
Bed Bug Phone Home
2:45 pm | 1 Comment » |So, Iqaluit is having a slight bed bug infestation. Since these little critters are hijacking there way to the Great White North via luggage from the south, Iqaluit residents are worried since the town does not have one exterminator. Residents have never seen bed bugs before.
Well I can guarantee you that bed bugs ain’t never seen anyting like Iqaluit either. I would advise them to start sending tweets to their buddies down south. “DON’T COME HERE! ITS FRIGGIN COLD!!!!”
As far as the infestation goes…close the bedroom door and open the window for a few hours. That should about do it.
Until then, I remain,
A Sour Kraut
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January 27, 2012
Smile, you’re Canadian
11:02 am | No Comments » |So, I live in Canada and my children are starting to get on my nerves. Well, the last thing I need is my offspring sullying the good family name. I plan to talk to them about it, but on my way to the canal I have a small accident. By the time I get that straightened out I am too late. My three daughters and my first wife, can’t remember how many I have, have driven into the locks and drowned. Distraught I flee the scene. Yeah, that’s it. That is exactly how it happened. Forget the paint scrapes on my front bumper and those recordings of me saying I would kill them a thousand times over, I was trying to be a good father. Only in Canada would I get a long drawn out trial.
Canada’s beloved Prime Minister was feeling quite satisfied in Davos. He was putting swords in the backs of his European counterparts when he decided that the folks at home were getting off easy. Tally Ho! Don’t think that you can retire at 65, that date is getting further away. Maybe 67 or 70.
Before going to the inviting confines of Switzerland, the PM met with all the First Nations representatives that could get a space at the table. The result? More consultations and more consultants equals more money down the drain. I have one question for the First Nation’s leaders – How can you draw a big salary if your people don’t have proper housing? Some of you could cut back on your take and actually build a house or two every year with the savings. One more thing. If I didn’t have proper sanitation and was using a bucket, I may get off my butt and go dig a hole and build an outhouse. It may not be warm, but outhouses served very well in trying circumstances. Better than a bucket and spreading the contents in front of your house. Only in Canada.
Isn’t it nice to hear that people from Europe and the U.S. love, love, luv luv luv, Nova Scotia. That fact that the roads suck, signage and amenities are third world, and promotion is misguided doesn’t deter the hardy from visiting. Who knew. Imagine if Nova Scotia ( and the rest of the Country for that matter ) did a good job. We would have to beat tourists away with stick. Oh, but we wouldn’t want that. It may change our quaint little way of life.
This country always gives me the warm and fuzzy’s. That’s why I stay. That and the fact that I will continue to be a drain on the health care system. Cool. Manage your own care and see who finishes in first.
Until then, I remain,
A Sour Kraut
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January 19, 2012
I Am So Proud
9:25 am | No Comments » |Guess what? Canada has a spy. Really!! Okay, to be fair, he is alleged to have taken part in spying stuff. He hasn’t been convicted yet. So, truthfully we MAY have a spy. Still, I am so proud. Canada, the country that has issues over its millitary role in the world, whose equipment is usually sitting idle due to lack of funds, actually has something that other countries are willing to pay for.
I am not talking about the recipe for a Timmies Cruller, these people want some serious information. Low and behold we had some. Probably it was more like the US and Britain had some and we just knew it because we were in the same room. Nevertheless, we have a spy.
Hey, Maybe we do matter. What’s next? Maybe Peter MacKay is a double 00 operative who needs to be picked up at a salmon lodge because he just off’ed a bad guy who was lurking in the wilderness. He wasn’t in Mexico getting married, he was there taking out some drug cartel kingpin. Yeah, that’s it. And all of this would make Stephen Harper “M”. Who knew? He kinda looks like Judy Dench. Oooh, I have goosebumps.
Until then, I remain,
A Sour Kraut
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Not So Healthy
9:14 am | No Comments » |Canada is going through another round of negotiating for health care dollars while never looking at the issues. The Provinces are demanding more money to keep the levels of service they currently don’t provide. The Federal Government is saying that the trough is starting to dry up and they have to put a cap on what they can spend. No one ever meets in the middle and the Canadian populace keeps geeting the dull end of the used needle.
Lets face facts. Money is not the issue. Canadians have piled billions in the system with the promise that things will get better. All of that money has simply been swallowed up in the morass that is the Canadian Health Care system. If money is not the issue than what is? There are many things wrong and they are all structural. Lets take that premise of universal health care or “free” health care as some like to call it. At its roots, the system put forth by Tommy Douglas many years ago recognised the problems we have now. It wasn’t supposed to be “free”. Mr. Douglas realized that people needed to have a buy in to the system and as a result he promoted a co-pay system. The “free” part came in when you suffered catastrophic medical care bills that you could not afford. That is when the system took care of you and did not deny service. A “free” system is always going to suffer abuse. Suffering from a cold or the flu, Canadians could stay at home, rest and drink plenty of fluids. Instead Canadians go to their doctor, where they are told to stay at home, rest and drink plenty of fluids. The doctor may also throw in blood work and a perscription to ease Mr. or Ms. Canuk’s mind. Canadians go to the doctor for things today that a generation ago would have been considered a passing annoyance. Why? Because it doesn’t cost anything and you can where it with pride.
“Where were you? ”
“Oh, I HAD to go to the DOCTOR.”
I once heard a hockey Mom tell her overly dramatic son to “suck it up Princess!” Sounds like a good perscription for Canadians as a whole. Tommy Douglas’ co-pay idea would definitely cut down on abuse of the system.
Family doctors are also to blame. It used to be that your GP was the one who diagnosed and treated your problems. Only the most serious, or confusing issues were referred to a specialist. Now your family doctor is at most times a turnstile that routes you to other areas, tests and specialties. We don’t need to be paying big bucks for that service. A well constructed computer program can do the same thing.
One health care consultant was promoting a funding system that was based on meaningful and measurable outcomes. I am not sure what that means, except to say that I am sure that it entails the hiring of a lot more administrators to develop and measure these meaningful outcomes. The Canadian health care system is administered to death. In fact there is a direct correlation between the rapid increase in health care funding and the increase in administrators. It is a bureaucracy that is now well entrenched and setting the direction of the health care system. As far as patient outcomes, why don’t we give doctors a kick in the butt and tell them to get back on the job. They are the ones that swear an oath to help and protect their patients. Shouldn’t they be the ones that are pushing for meaningful and successful outcomes for their patients, instead of using the excuse that the administrators are the ones holding back resources? Doctors are supposed to be at the top of the heap (they get paid enough), they should be the ones determining what is best for their patients, not administrators. They should be the ones complaining of long wait times and lack of access to services. Yet, they quietly stand aside and let the “system” take all the hard knocks. Straighten up guys and do your job. I still can’t believe that we have patients dying of C. Difficile and contracting Norwalk virus and MRSA in hospitals. That is simply a cleanliness issue, yet you do not hear of physicians, or nurses I might add, putting their foot down and saying they are not going to stand for unclean rooms and facilities for their patients.
A generation ago, you walked into a hospital and there were rooms with beds in them with patients being treated. Now those rooms have been converted to offices and meeting rooms and are filled with catered lunch trays for the latest get together to discuss an issue that should have been acted on eight months ago. That lack of accountability is staggering. Huge wastes of money occurr and yet no one is responsible since it was all decided at “committee”. Committees are the ones who spend millions of dollars on studies, when they could get a better answer from polling the workers doing the job. Most health districts spend money on marketing and promotion. Yup, markeing a service that you have to use. Why? I guess it is to make us feel good that they are doing something with all those billions. I think they should cut out the billboards and give someone a hip sooner.
The system as it stands is broken. Yet, there is still this belief that Canadians need to throw more money at it. Its like pouring water into a broken glass and wondering why you are always thirsty. Canada needs to do a major overhaul of its system. The simplest is to ditch what exists and put the running of hospitals out to tender. The government would still be the single payer, and the hospitals would have to make a business case for survival. If they couldn’t then they would be replaced by an organization that could.
None of this will take place, because Canadians are too chicken to mess with their much ballyhooed “Universal Health Care System”. Well the system is a mess and when Canadians get to the point where they really need it, the realization that it is not all they thought it would be will be too late.
Until then I remain,
A Sour Kraut
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January 3, 2012
Speaking of Stupidity
10:24 pm | No Comments » |Speaking of stupidity, the award goes to the German people and its government. Those straight and logical thinking Germans made one of the stupidest decisions ever. In the wake of the Japanese tsunami, and the hysteria around the damage to the Fukushima Nuclear Plant, Germany decided that they were going to shut down all of their nuclear power generators. ALL OF THEM! In the name of safety. Yes, safety.
Let’s fast forward nine months. All of the damaged reactors have been shut down and are just sitting there waiting to be removed and broken into their respective pieces and decommissioned. No real drama there. While this will be a messy and time consuming process, there will be no threat to safety. No more that cleaning up the chemical mess at Love Canal or the Sydney Tar Ponds or any of the dozens or so coal mine disasters every year. You know the ones. The explosions and cave- ins that kill hundreds (maybe even thousands if China every came clean) EVERY YEAR!!! Meanwhile, not one person died as a result of the damage at Fukushima. NOT ONE!!! And the residents that were moved because of radiation levels are starting to be able to move back. The predicted long term negatives are few and minor. Hmmmm…
Yet Germany jumped on the hysteria band wagon, with all the forethought of my twelve year old. Their passion for safety and the environment overcame the reasonable question of “How are we going to produce all this electricity that the nuclear plants are producing?” It’s simple. As we found out recently Germany has dramatically increased its imports of that paragon of safety and environmental friendliness – COAL. Yup, coal. Miners everywhere have rejoiced. Their wives and families not so much.
And don’t even start with the green energy arguments. Germany and the rest of Europe, being at the leading edge of windpower have already learned it is not the answer. There are three answers to power generation – nuclear, coal and hydro-electric. Currently, solar, wind and tidal are small add ons at best. Germany had the answer, nuclear, and they flipped the switch. Brilliant.
Until then, I remain,
A Sour Kraut.
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