In The Purple Zone

~ tidalscribe.com

Far from people not talking about cancer, I have found people are happy to talk about it if they know you have joined the club.

Someone I don’t know very well asked me to stay behind after a club Zoom meeting, personal not club business. I was puzzled and everyone else felt obliged to leave. I have noticed at paid for Zoom meetings, not the free sort where you get timed out after forty minutes, there are people who just disappear, others who wave goodbye the moment it officially ends and then there are  ‘only the sad and lonely’ left, reluctant to leave, keen to squeeze out a last bit of conversation or gossip about those who have already left…

Anyway, it turned out her husband had been diagnosed with prostate caner and was due to have radiotherapy. The fact that he was having it in a totally different place, body and hospital, did not put her off asking about my experiences.

In the middle of our busy local little Sainsbury on a Saturday morning I bumped into one of my neighbours who had an update. It was only falling off his bike and breaking his pelvis, that resulted in hospital blood tests revealing a rare blood cancer. We had a long chat about chemotherapy between the chocolate biscuits and the food bank.

Apart from the daily tiny anastrozole tablet and the twice daily huge adcal tablets, fortunately chewable, I have to have six infusions at six monthly intervals of Zoledronic acid. A week before is the blood test and booking that is wonderfully efficient at my hospital. Phone up oncology outpatients blood test line. They answer straight away and book you an appointment with no fuss.

The same nurse does blood tests all day long and soon calls you in. I feel like I know her and assume she knows why I’m there…

‘Have you got a blood form.’

’ No, I thought it was all on the computer.’

‘Who’s your consultant?’

My mind goes completely blank.

‘What are your ailments?’

‘Ailments? I haven’t got any ailments.’

‘Where was your cancer?’

‘Oh.. that..  breast.’

She narrowed the choice of consultant down to two and I recognised the name. A quick phone call and she knew what was being tested. We lay people think ‘a blood test’ will miraculously reveal all possible medical problems and presume there are at most three different kinds of tests, because they usually take three phials of blood.

The following week I headed confidently to Yellow Zone A, where I had the previous two infusions, only to find the waiting room in darkness and the desk deserted. There was a note pinned to the window. TIU unit moved to Purple Zone Level Two Cardiology Department. I don’t know what TIU actually stands for or why it would be in cardiology. Back down the corridor, back past Costa coffee, WH Smith and the toilets, down another corridor, up two flights of stairs. There were signs along the way, but once you leave stairwells and main corridors you are confronted with a series of swinging double doors and are not sure how far to go without ending up in an operating theatre or resuscitation room. I found a waiting area that said ‘wait here till called’, but how would they know I was here and what I was here for? I pushed some more doors and found a large room with an island in the middle and a person.

I was in the right place and had a nice young male nurse, who unfortunately couldn’t get the needle in. That always happens and I feel guilty for putting them under stress, you can’t go away and leave them in peace to concentrate. If you have had all your lymph nodes taken out, you are not allowed to use that arm ever again for anything, needles, even blood pressure band. So I only have one arm for them to use and my hand is the only part they can get into. Eventually he had to ask one of the other nurses who took a few tries. I wonder if it’s universal among the medical profession that patients are always told we will just ‘feel a little prick’ whatever is going in or coming out of our veins. I asked her if they are ever defeated and she said ‘No, well hardly ever…’ I suggested a scenario where the desperate nurse can’t find anywhere to put the needle except… ‘I’m just going to pop the needle into your jugular, just a tiny prick…’

28 thoughts on “In The Purple Zone”

  1. I’m in a similar club- only it’s IBD. Also have regular blood tests [it’s usually ‘sharp scratch’] Also visits for the joys of the colonoscope, which happened to be this morning. I suppose we should just be very glad to be taken care of!

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  4. I so understand this, but it’s one of the occasions when I’m pleased I have to rely on hospital transport and can’t wander around under my own steam. Sitting like Lady Muck in a wheelchair, I am so tempted to point along an empty corridor and shout ‘Wagons Ho!’ 😀

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  5. I’m not part of the club, but it makes sense that people would talk to others going through the same thing.

    I have gotten to that age where it takes 4-5 people to draw blood from my arm. They talk about my disappearing veins like I’m a regular Houdini. I want to say, “It’s just a little talent I have.” 😊

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  7. Good to hear, Janet… yes they are fine, thank you… Lauren is like you having the Zoledronic acid every 6 months and monthly tummy implants for the foreseeable but otherwise is good 🙂

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  8. When my late husband was a ‘season ticket holder’ at the CT scanner and a regular attendee at outpatients and the day unit I often found myself rescuing lost souls wandering the corridors in search of their clinic! The staff in the blood test clinic get the vein first go every time but nurses get less practice so can struggle. Doctors are the worst – they did it when they were very junior but can barely remember how.

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  9. After my mum had breast cancer and lymph nodes were removed, they always had great trouble finding a vein in her ‘well-used’ arm. She used to look at them as they hovered with the needle and say “Good luck with that”.
    I had cancer tests last September. Uncomfortable, unpleasant, intrusive (cameras inserted) tests for bladder cancer and prostate cancer. When it as all over, I was called in to see the smiling Chinese consultant. I suppose he thought he was cheering me up with his conclusion.
    “Well, you have no bladder cancer. As for prostate cancer, not quite yet!”
    Now I am awaiting the ticking time bomb…
    Best wishes, Pete.

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  11. oh blimey, Janet. How grim. Takes me back to my mum and dad’s experiences. Our family has tried cancer bingo with a whole range of versions, though happily I’ve been kept off the card for now. Mind you, there’s still time enough.

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  13. Fortunately, the veins in my left arm are very good. They pop up without my effort of making a fist. I always offer my left arm. I kind of disappeared for a year because of selling our California home and moving to Oregon to be close to the grandkids. It looks like you’re still in treatment, Janet. How’s the progress?

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    1. Yes, all breast cancer patients are under the hospital for five years – that includes annual breast screen on the other side and for some of us, infusions every six months. Apart from that it is ‘patient led care’ which means we are not called for check ups, but phone them if we have any concerns. that sounds like a big move. My three children and two sets of grandchildren live in three different directions from me, long journeys, but probably not as far as your distances!

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