The Christie's....

This time 2 years ago Claire was admitted into the Christie Hospital in Manchester.   I don't know why but today I feel the urge to write about that aspect of our life 2 years ago.  I want a record for Thom but it also helps me release lots of emotion and feelings that I couldn't face back then.  It's healing.

We'd gone the Monday after the first Ginge Fest.  The idea being we'd go and Claire would be put on the trial drug she'd been waiting for.  She'd gone 2 weeks without pain relief other than paracetamol and ibuprofen. I cannot imagine now how she did that with all the cancer and open wounds on her chest but somehow she did.  I'm in awe of this now. It stressed me out at the time knowing that she was in pain but desperate to get this potential lifeline so  went without her pain medication.  We'd been to St James' the day before Ginge fest to get Claire a blood transfusion to make sure she'd have the best chance too as her bloods were down and energy was lacking.  We turned up full of hope.  I remember the trial nurse being particularly lovely.  Not all were.  It soon transpired that our hopefulness about this trial wouldn't be enough.  Claire had an infection in her wound and she'd need to stay in hospital to get treatment.  We'd gone with no overnight bags or anything.  So with the disappointment in our hearts Claire agreed to stay for a couple of days to get the infection under control. I was to go home, pick up some clothes and other things for Claire.  I also had to go and pick up our new car which I'd planned to get that day too.  So I had to leave her there, no doubt she was scared as was I and head home and do what was required.  I drove home, then to York to swop the cars and then back to Manchester.  I didn't arrive till after 9pm and I was unable to find Claire.  Eventually I tracked her down on an open ward which must of been nearly 10pm.   It was an old part of the hospital and reminded me of a dormitory.  I don't recall there being many other patients there but when Claire saw me walking in, she started crying.  She didn't think I'd make it back and she felt so alone.  The lady next to her who looked gravely ill had been comforting Claire in my absence.  She'd gone in full of hope but now looked so frightened and alone. I comforted her the best I could, hiding my sadness about it all and my pain of seeing her look so desperate.  I stayed with er for a couple of hours and then I went to a local hotel.  I bought some beer and sat there not knowing what was ahead.

I think the next day when i'd gone in they'd moved her to another ward.  This was where she was to remain for the next 2 weeks. It was always hard going back in in the morning as I never knew what I'd find. How she'd be.  Thinking back it now reminds me of when I had to go and visit Mum in hospital those 3 months which she was in there for.  It was always a rollacoaster and there was always fear of now knowing how she'd be when you went it.   I think Claire was ok I can't remember specifically.  I remember her telling me what else to bring in for her and what she needed.  We went for a scan and I remember pushing her in the wheel chair and the room being so full of people who were also waiting for a scan. The results of that scan were that she needed some more fluid draining from her lungs and so she was booked in for that later in the week.  We were still positive of getting on the trial at this stage.=======

Things are never straight forward when cancer is involved. Claire had the drain fitted to her lung and they wanted to drain at least 2 liters off before it could be removed.  The drains were a big flexible tube attached to a container with measurement marking up the side and a clip that could be hooked to the side of the bed.  It connected to Claire via a smaller tube they'd inserted via her back and into her lung area.  The liquid was a yellowish color with the occasional blood clot in for good measure.  Not a nice sight for me to look at let alone Claire to have to have it inserted in her body.  This was I think the third drain she'd had so in a funny way it was familiar.  There was a relief in having it as this meant pressure was taken off her lung when the liquid drained so breathing was easier.  I remember her anxiety about how much liquid was being drained.  I remember being with her there when she wanted a shower.  I went with her into the shower / toilet block and felt so fucking useless.  There was my wife, her breast missing, her wound open, her scars from the operations, the drain inserted into her trying to get washed.  I just felt in the way, there was nothing I could do other than bath her back and just over fuss much to her annoyance.  Looking back, how can I prepare for that? I can't but it was just so very hard to see her there so helpless even taking a shower.

Her spirits where quite high though despite all this.  One evening I went into central Manchester to the 'curry mile' to get us a takeaway and to give Claire a break from hospital food.  I did my research and tracked down the place with the best reviews.  I was determined to get the best curry for Claire. We sat in the main day day area and ate the most amazing curry together as the smell wafted through the ward.  I can still remember Claire saying that it was the best curry she'd ever had.  That was a special moment.  Other special moments where going down to breakfast together and getting egg baps and eating them outside and discussing taking Thom to Euro Disney when Claire got back out.