Guantanimo Bay

I refuse to call what's happening to me an illness, more an invasion. This is bad enough to take, but the treatment is far worse. They tell you one of the side-effects is sleepiness, but fail to add the ability to stop you sleeping, a fact confirmed by other patients. You feel sleepy all day, only to go to bed early and not be able to sleep. An extra problem unique to me is my leg wound ache also refuses to sleep. Not an ideal situation. Now I am off those enormous doses of painkiller, enough to knock-out a rhino, the occasional paracetamol , fails to reach the same levels of pain relief.      Everyone has good and bad experiences in life, me more than most I guess, but the combination of the treatment and what is left of my brain seem able to recall and graphically edit together the bad in my dreams, whether I am asleep. Or awake.   I am told the functions of the zapped parts of my brain will eventually be undertaken by others.  A sort of multi-tasking.  I am writing this at 1.00 in the morning before attempting to achieve real sleep again.

Having already suffered water torture by being forced off Tardis Two earlier than planned I feel I am going through the entire Guantanimo Bay gambit.  What next? I'm innocent, honestly.

Talking of torture, at least I know once all this treatment is completed that will be the end of it, but there is no such hope for thousands of Spurs fans as they watch Arsenal winning game after game by large margins ( apart from against Spurs, strangely ). However, a change of allegiance and a short bus ride could quickly cure their problem and they will then be able to enjoy an hour and a half of their lives per week.

I was supposed to have a full day at the hospital today with radiopherapy treatment and a chat with the consultant. Similarly tomorrow but this time with the chemo consultant, who happens to be the same guy. Today, after treatment, a blood test and a long wait they announced they woul combine the two consultations tomorrow.   All those wasted letters and our preparations, for what?

Once again piss-up and brewery spring to mind, but we're lumbered with them to the bitter end (excuse the pun).