Up and down

After a day back on the anti-inflammatory drug, the screaming spine pain has calmed down again, which is a relief. The burning shoulder-blade pain comes and goes. My intestines are functioning again and I did some stretches and exercises today -- I can raise my left arm a couple of inches higher than I could yesterday (Rosemary drew a line on the doorframe with a pencil for reference). But like yesterday, I feel a little queasy and headachy. I wonder if it's anxiety. Probably just from lying around too much. Today I would like to go outside for a walk.

Last night I finally did 10 minutes of Googling about the symptoms of bone metastasis and the symptoms of osteoporosis, and I have almost none of the former and all of the latter. Still, there are tests for the bone mets that the doctors haven't done yet -- why, I don't know. I am mightily confused, and angry that my GP has not gone to bat for me. Why do I have to be my own GP?

I have also been reminded of the ongoing conflict between home-care nurses and hospital nurses. When I went through cancer treatment five years ago, I had a home-care nurse visit regularly for months to help maintain my PICC line, the catheter that hung out of my arm for intravenous injections. It was a pain in the ass, to say the least, and the hospital nurses I also saw regularly always disagreed about what their duties were in maintaining it -- "The home-care nurse is supposed to do that!" -- and there were always differences in what supplies they had available to them. I wanted the hospital nurses to change the dressing because they had better dressings than the home-care nurses were given, which was hardly their fault.

Similarly, this time I have a home-care nurse coming to maintain the fluid drain from my incision. I didn't even get to see the home-care nursing coordinator before I left the hospital -- I was told she was too busy -- though she called as soon as I got home to say angrily that she could have seen me but the hospital staff had got their wires crossed. So I didn't see a nurse until yesterday, and he was peeved that he'd been given an order to see me for just three days (when I was told numerous times that it would be at least a week before the drain could be disconnected). And he was disgusted that I'd been sent home with no supplies; I dug out some leftover saline solution and dressings that I'd kept from five years ago, and he made do. Then he pointed out that my drain was completely blocked, which could be causing infection; he got it going again. By suppertime, it seemed blocked again, so I called the home-care office; another nurse told me that it wouldn't cause infection and that if I couldn't get it going again I shouldn't worry. She told me how to clear it, and I tried, but I don't think it worked.

Pollyanna moment: Today I get to take my first shower in four days!