Not Yet Twenty-Four Hours

Around this time yesterday we were at the hospital getting the prescriptions and the “available at hospital pharmacy only” drugs. They had forgotten to put the anti-coagulant on the prescription, and I had to remind them…it got sorted so no drama.

So now the house has a new sound. It is the sound of the oxygen concentrator. It puffs and blows a bit like a real live being. It comes with a five-metre-long tube which means that the wife can go just about anywhere on the ground floor. There is now a trip hazard.

Everything is done in bits and bobs here.

I went up to see the ladies in the pharmacy to get a month’s stash of drugs. Many are these are prophylactic for someone who in the act of becoming immuno-compromised. I am not joking she gave me the stash in a fair-sized 40cm cube cardboard box

The Oxycodone can only be prescribed on a month’s worth prescription so the one we have is invalid because it is too early. We will need another doctor appointment to fix this soon.

Tomorrow morning, they are delivering a portable oxygen machine and in the afternoon, we will travel thirty minutes or so by car for her next chemotherapy injections at the chaotic major hospital. They have civil guards checking your vaccination passes.

I read in the local newspapers that all hospital visiting had been suspended, that is unless you are in the act of dying. So she got out in the nick of time.

The nurses will now come and assist with the anti-coagulant injections. It is a bit weird jabbing your wife.

It is one less thing for me to do…

Turning someone around, washing and all, takes a fair bit of doing…

I had to inform the insurers that we have an oxygen machine in da house.

She wished me a merry Christmas but I heard “Have a Chemotherapy Christmas and a Happy New Year”…