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14 Years, a Clusterfuck and a bottle of Veuve Clicquot


Last night I slept well. I woke up at about 6. Tricia gave me our anniversary card. Still in its plastic wrapper. It's the 13th time it's made an appearance. At least it's not wrapped in single use plastic. We both forgot our first anniversary but at least Tricia had bought a card. When we both realised we had missed the moment Tricia produced the card. It's made an annual appearance ever since.

Today is also a day to rejoice. Its my last full day without my port. Time for a lesson

What is a Port?

  • A port is a long-term catheter system. It consists of a reservoir (or port chamber) – a small container made of plastic or metal sealed with a stable silicone membrane – and a thin tube, the port catheter.

  • The catheter is inserted into a blood vessel when the port is implanted and can then be used to introduce medicines and fluids directly into the blood circulation.

  • The port is placed entirely beneath the skin and can easily be located from outside by touch.

  • The silicone membrane can be penetrated as necessary using a Huber needle, whose tip is specially designed to prevent damage to the membrane.

  • The system makes use of special materials and can therefore remain in the body for a long period of therapy without causing problems.

I can't say I'm excited by the prospect but I can't avoid it. So tomorrow morning I have a blood test. I need to go to a secure location as I'm classed as high risk. No mixing with the riff raff. Then its off to Treliske for the port. Tuesday another dreaded covid nasal invasion. Then on Friday the first of my chemo days. (I say Friday but actually it's Friday, Saturday and Sunday that the chemo drugs are continuously pumped into me for 46 hours before the portable pump is removed). Then a break of a couple days and it starts all over again. At least I'll have plenty to blog about.


STOP! That was this morning. It's now this evening. The Tuesday covid test was supposed to be 72 hours before tomorrow's procedure but that was wrong! A mistake, so it's been cancelled along with my procedure tomorrow.

So now I have to have my chemo via a canula, my port will now be installed on the 9th of September in time for my 2nd chemo and I'm pissed off.

I'm struggling to find the bright side here. I get more time on the kitchen job at home, that's a bonus, and for some reason I discovered I don't actually need a covid test before every chemo. So there you have it, a quick recap of a complete Clusterfuck.


Back to the 14 years bit.

There's a load of stories I could regale you with...… Why Tricia and I got married at all. How I proposed. About the Jazz band in the afternoon followed by the duo singing in the evening on our wedding day. Why the best man was actually a woman. Did we actually have a clown for the kids in the afternoon. Who were the fantastic array of guests, (perhaps you remember). But none of that for now.

In short 14 years ago Tricia and I got married. 14 great years I wouldn't have wanted to spend with anyone else. Not quite enough, hopefully we can squeeze in another couple anniversaries yet.



So, how about the Veuve Clicquot? Well the plan was to spend some time in the hot tub with a glass or two of champagne. But my mood has definitely been challenged today. The phone call cancelling my appointment came while we were on the way back from the specialist Motorhome repairers in Scorrier. Jangled, as you would expect, I arrived home to find a letter on the porch mat. It was from the consultant. There it was in black and white. Treatment Intent; Life extending. So it's not a bad dream ….I'm off to bed.


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