The Bladder Infection

Until I spent my days writing about my illness, I was never really one to complain about illness. I do not like fusses and I am a firm believer in one consuming their own smoke if you will. What I am saying, is that for all minor ailments, I believe that people should just shut up and get on with it. And look how that philosophy worked out for me?

So, despite my minor ailment becoming a major illness, I still find it difficult to complain about the little things. But, complain I did today and do you know where that got me? Accident and Emergency. It’s beyond fun in here, accept it really isn’t.

I have a bladder infection, well, it’s not really an infection I don’t think. It’s a side effect of the cyclophosphamide. Normally, for the symptoms I am having, I would have some cranberry juice and avoid vigorous rubbing. I did have some cranberry juice, but no joy. In an ideal world, I would have rocked up at Peterborough City Hospital’s A&E as UCLH suggested when I called them earlier, and my drugs would have been here. I did call to say I was coming.

Instead, what has happened, is a long, long wait and I am still waiting. The hospital does not have an oral form of the drug I need. Apparently, UCLH are advising I go there. My bloods have been taken and it’ll take 90-120 minutes to get the results (unless my connections pay off) and then they’ll decide whether to admit me. If they had taken the sample when they made me do a urine sample, they’d be back by now.

I do not want to be here. I want to be at home. Failing that, I want to be at UCLH, where everybody knows my name or at least, I like to think they do and where I am familiar with the types of cannula they use. The cannula in my arm looks like something from The Sweeney.

One thing is for sure, the next time I experience a stinging sensation when I pee, I’ll think twice about telling anybody.*


* Accept I will tell people. I want to get better don’t I?

Oh and this is Mamma Jones looking bored. I look worse than her.