Pee in my tea (an ordinary day in the middle of the week)

 


 

 

 

 

 

I browsed this morning through a blog written for about 3 – 4 year back in time to last year, a woman writing about getting a treatment of breast cancer. It was with long posts and therefore too much to read, but I picked up on this blog the information that I should have started the cancer treatment with first go to the dentist and get a checkup status. No one told me that at the Oncology Unit.

The treatment can give inflammation in the gums, etc. … And I have periodontists since a very long time and  for the last months now an inflammation in the root of a tooth to be removed. (It was not treated in the spring due to lockdown for every 70 plus at dental clinics due to pandemic. And before the pandemic came, a new partial prosthesis was also planned … ) My mouth status is really bad. If the dentist care should be informed about a cytostatic treatment, why wasn’t I told?

Well, to be fair! The need of dentist care was mentioned in one of the brochures I got from the oncologist nurse. True! Likewise there were a few lines about having diabetes and that the blood sugar can  raise much to need more insulin. True!

But what about that: you go through investigations and get to know you have cancer and will get a cytostatic treatment, surgery and radiation. And then you meet with a nurse who talk an hour about all  the bad sicknesses this treatment will give you. And then she gives you a thick plastic map with brochures – as soon as I saw it at her desk I actually felt my brain lock downed – and you take the plastic map with all paper information with you home and leave at desk, to read… later! Later, as you are all mixed up in your brain by this new situation and all papers and that talk and talk, too much of everything.

This young woman chosen by the care to be my “contact nurse” mentioned about blood sugar raise later in passing but stayed for a long time talking about body pain and nausea and stomach problems losing hair and the importance to call Emergency immediately if I get fever… It made no impression on me that emphasis on pain talk, I have suffered from chronic pains all my life.

Her name is E**** and I said later to my son after the first meeting with her “if I ever get a dog again I will never call her E****, that’s for sure”. But I didn’t see problems coming, no…

Well I left the blog reading and checked in on a site where I chat with people – those who bother to contact someone who turned 70 and more. Lucky, a guy had wrote me. I wrote a friendly reply. Not because the sun is shining today and no rain yet or for feeling healthy and good for once, but because yesterday I got into a argument with a dude from Asia somewhere at this same site. The day before I was in conflict with a high ranked academic middle age man from Nigeria who claimed that he was a professor of peace and conflict research, wanting to know about Sweden and getting to know a Swedish woman. Did not work well on me. I asked him to piss off.  But I wanted to be friendly today.

Now I got a quick response on my answer with a comment that I understand was meant as to be a compliment. I wrote nicely just like Jane Austen, the man told me! Yuk! I took a sip of my herbal tea in shock. It tasted like someone had pee in it.

I would prefer to be likened with George Orwell or something similar if at all… or writing like Tom Waits sings, oh whatever…  🙂 But certainly not be compared with an old English maiden causing movies with these ridiculous English romances, Hugh Grant faces, yuck! I have never had the desire to read Jane Austen, truly. 😦

The phone rang in that moment, but as on charging in the kitchen a long corridor away, I did not catch the call. I then saw that it was a number from the hospital or the health center. I’m fed up with talking with them at health care. 😦

What about my tea? Taste changes of chemo therapy seems to be common. That may be the cause of the odd taste of my tea? And I feel a bit troubled when I look at my hand holding the tea cup. The skin has become at least one size too large and the skin is not wrinkled like skin wrinkles normally but like silk paper and it moves like waves. Scary!

The phone rang again, it was a curator at the oncologist. The nurse in charge of my treatment had contacted the counselor because I had told her that I wanted a contact support with a counselor. But I never did that! I had asked other staff earlier about there were counselors, but I never considered to call one. Actually I eventually pondering about a support person working somewhere else, not connected to staff at the hospital.

But obvious this nurse I got on my neck has classified me as a difficult and a disturbed person. True, I don’t like her and obviously she doesn’t like me either. ”Nice”, to know!

But it didn’t feel good thinking about that I for many months must deal with this person, supposed to be my “support” during the long tough cancer treatment. She is presumed to – from what I read on health care sites – have drawn up a treatment plan in collaboration with me which to be called ”my treatment plan”. I haven’t seen that yet! All I’ve heard when I didn’t like the first planned treatment with a lot of cortisone, causing my blood sugar level raise high as hell. So I stopped taking more cortisone and the day for the first treatment, I refused to take it. The staff didn’t believe it first!

Well, then the nurse said it was another treatment, easier and she would talk the doctor and call me on phone. And I went home.

Next day she called giving a new date and telling me to take the same doses cortisone. “But you said I would get another treatment”, I said. “Yes, but now you shall have this treatment because the doctor has decided that is the best for you” she brusquely told.

She was insistent but so was I, so I ended the phone call as brusquely as she was. Later that day, the doctor she had referred to called me a couple of times and I told him my point and my version of the situation and then later that day he called me once again and said I would get the treatment I wanted. I was surprised but relieved.

And for me this conflict was a past, that’s how my personality works. Not for that nurse apparently. I met her again for the first treatment Monday this week. I was humble pretending I had nothing against her and I thought I had calmed her down with that. But no, she had some eggs to brood and the hatching was this counselor calling me today.

She wasn’t stupid, I heard on her voice she without a word pictured the situation well. And she was okay talking to. I arranged an appointment with after the next treatment day and I will ask her if she can help me get another “supporting nurse”. Well, good!

But still, after that ”supporting” telephone call today which the nurse had arranged as if it is me having any mentally problems wanting to be involved in my treatment, the rest of the day was ruined and I felt stressed and depressed and miserable.

 

That young nurse is certainly like getting pee in my tea. Lost my purpose keep on living this life. How much bad luck can one get, really! I’m stunned!

My plan for the day was go shopping downtown. Now I was disturbed and disoriented, trampling around looking for things to get ready to go… but finally I was ready to take the bus downtown to buy litter to my cat and some beauty stuff to me.

I went first to the beauty shop. It’s a very little shop and 6 customer in a queue was too much to “keep the distance” so I waited outside. The two young blond, slim girls with perfect faces who works as salespersons were both busy. Getting close my turn I entered looking up my coming buying. There was one woman with a child who had been waiting longer than me and was next – and she expected to be served.

It was a very short woman with an apparent foreign look and a broken accent in talk, the few words she said “I have waited long”. But the saleswoman ignored her and wanted to serve me. But I took a step back and said “it’s her turn”. The immigrant woman said meekly to me ”but you can go ahead me”. And the saleswoman was ready to serve me! But I said firm, “no, it is your turn please take your place to be served”. Oh, that spontaneous happy smile coming on her face! 🙂

Now the saleswoman had no choice but to serve her. Me, I was more thinking about the woman’s little son about 6 years old or something, who witnesses his mother get humiliated like that in country like Sweden by that blond Swedish saleswoman.

I wonder what is wrong with these young blond native Swedish nurses and salespersons of today? This is what we have in Sweden in daily life today, bulldozer attitudes and what commonly is called “hidden racism”.

One have to keep an eye on them: the ”good ones”! I just say “Fuck all those perfect people”!

rose, white

 

 

Det här inlägget postades i changes, cultures, diseases, gloom, human cruelty, immigrants, life turns, living with chronic diseases, Living with chronic pains, living with others, living with sickness, obstacles, old age, poems by vonnely, prose, reading life, Sweden view, Swedish "culture", Swedish conditions, Swedish souls, troubled life, words och har märkts med etiketterna , , , , , , , . Bokmärk permalänken.

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