Tuesday, 20 January 2015

Speed Awareness Course or Brain Tumour. Still Unsure Which Is Worse

Thursday. The day of my speed awareness course. As upset as I was to be missing four hours of patronising “speeding slightly on an empty road at night time is worse than terrorism” talks I managed to pick myself up with the thought of yet more hours in a hospital instead. Whoopee.

My brother and father arrived in Exeter early and helped me pack up my room ready for the anticipated journey back to Cardiff and we headed off to the hospital for my 8am meeting.

I had expected to be told a bit of information about the planned treatment but all we were able to discuss was the logistics of a transfer to Cardiff. The plan was that my brother and dad would drive back a car each and I’d stay at home in Maesteg until the Heath was ready with a bed for me.

That plan lasted about as long as Miley Cyrus’ dignity. The Heath wouldn’t let me leave hospital care due to the nature of the tumour, and as I made it pretty clear I wasn’t going to stay in Exeter any longer they arranged me a bed for that evening and an ambulance to come up from Plymouth to bring me over.

After eight hours of boring myself silly in waiting rooms in Exeter the ambulance arrived. The rules the paramedics had to go by involved me being wheeled from A-B and not allowed to walk at all while under their care. Which was a bit strange as I’m pretty sure I was in better physical condition that the pair of the guys that had to wheel me about the place.

The staff at RDE were all brilliant though, every nurse that I had dealt with came up to say goodbye and wish me luck.. If I’m honest they were probably just upset they wouldn’t get to chat to me for the rest of the shift. I’m a conversational delight you know.

The two hour drive in an ambulance gave me a chance to finally pen some sort of announcement for people. I had started to receive a few messages of people that had seen suggestions that I might not be well, so thought the only real way to get the news to everyone without spending 2 weeks replying to the same message was to put something on Facebook. A bit crude, but potentially the easiest way to manage things.

I have been overwhelmed with the response I have received ever since, from all sorts of people, some I haven’t spoken to in a long time and some I still see regularly, all wishing me well and a good percentage taking the opportunity to rip into me. Which is a welcome relief, as the hospital staff seem unlikely to get involved in much banter and there’s only so much pity a man can take. Especially when I’m not allowed out to train. I mean, how much damage could a casual shoulder session really do?!

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