After a week of spasms, fever, sleepless nights and mental torture, my GP has finally agreed to change my antibiotic. As I’d told them 7 days ago, Nitrofourantoin is ineffective against the UTI’s that I get.
Today I’ve taken the first tablet of a 5 day course of another drug.
Today I also attended my dermatology appointment in Hammersmith, and saw a 35 year qualified consultant dermatologist. She very quickly diagnosed me as having 5 basal cell carcinomas on my chest. I was given 2 options – to freeze them twice so that the skin was solid, the thawing out process selectively killing the cancer cells, leaving me with 2 weeks of 5 sore, blistered areas that would be permanently pale, or using a cream that I applied for 12 weeks, killing the cells and leaving me with no scars.
Not caring about a few scars, or the pain, I opted for the fast kill approach, and now have 5 sores on my front.
I’d barely thought about this appointment until today, but I had then come to the conclusion that I had about a 70% desire to be diagnosed with terminal skin cancer. Having had the odd brush with death in the last few years, I now find myself regarding it as almost a friend, and certainly nothing to fear. I realise that that may sound odd, but in the way that older people who ( perfectly cheerfully and unemotionally ) have decided that they have been around for long enough and are happy to shuffle off, I feel perfectly content to go too. My 6 month long sustained uplift in happiness has not changed that ‘ relationship ‘ with mortality that I have.
As it is though, I’m not going just yet, via that route in any case. When she said that they were not malignant melanoma areas, as suspected by my GP, I didn’t feel any sense of relief at all, just indifference / slight disappointment !
So… tomorrow i go to a gig ( The Beach ) and Thursday too, and now know that I won’t have to give away tickets that I have for something in November.
I told one of my daughters the good (?) news, and she seemed happy, the other one not having shown any interest in the first place, I assume may find out by chance in the future, possibly.
An extremely close friend told me, the other day, about his ( factual) theory about daughters. At some time between 12 and 14, the aliens come and take away your lovely, smiley and sweet daughter, and in her place leave a visibly perfect replica of her, identical in every respect except that the one they leave is spiteful and selfish, cruel and hurtful, intent on upsetting you. They keep your own daughter for up to 6 years, and then, after that they bring her back to your house and swap the two around again. He said that it’s such a relief to get the real one back that you forget all about the imposter that’s occupied her bedroom and worn her clothes for 6 years, and instead are just grateful. As the aliens have indeed visited and carried out an exchange in my house, I’m comforted by the knowledge that my real daughter is in a safe place, being looked after , and exploring the Universe. As it’s not my own daughter here with me, I have no qualms about chipping away at next months pocket money every time that I hear ‘ God, i HATE you!’ With every profanity, I save money, and feel no associated guilt or upset. Every parent should know about this, as it’s extremely helpful.
Wednesday is another hospital appointment, this time a Pre assessment for my week long April admission, Easter in hospital this year. I stopped eating sweets a few weeks back,so no eggs for me unless they’re from a chicken.
Signing off, as spasms still in full swing until the new antibiotic kicks in, hopefully by Wednesday.