Attack of the Driller Killer

I must be the only person I know who loathes going to the dentist-the driller killer, I call her. But I actually don't mind the whole performance of the examination-which, because it's covered (so far) by the NHS, takes about ten minutes maximum. Who could be afraid of a ten minute exam by the dentist? Lots of people, apparently, judging from the sheer volume of people I see whose teeth are horribly rotten (those who actually have teeth, that is).

I like having my teeth cleaned-obviously I need to get out more! But I remember that my ex needed a shot of valium before he would let the dentist touch him. I used to laugh - how horrible was I? How many people are dentist-phobic?

That, would you believe, was the highlight of my week last week. Like I said, I need to get out more. The rest of last week was pretty dire, because we had heavy rain. And I do mean heavy-it came down so hard and there was so much of it that there were floods everywhere outside of London. Even the transport system was delayed-no surprise there, because if there's a leaf on the railroad tracks, trains are cancelled until someone can clean it up. Hilarious-unless it's my train, of course.

It was a week of really having to face my limitations. The rain, the weather changes-all those things that really affect my balance. And I was stumbling around everywhere. There was one late afternoon when the rain stopped long enough for me to take a chance and go out for an hour's walk. I nearly fell over-five times, I nearly fell over. I had trouble getting back, and I realized that when it is just getting dark, it's not a good time for me to go out and attempt to walk anywhere. That made me very depressed, because I'm making such an effort, and I feel like every time I take two steps forward, I then take about a dozen steps backward. Not very pleasant, but that doesn't mean I won't keep trying.

Tai Chi last week was problematic, too; I'm unable to stand on one leg, and part of the form requires that. Part of the form also requires turning around three times. You can imagine-I felt really stupid. There's nobody who really is interested in helping, either. But it's a large class, so I can't expect individual attention.

I grumbled a lot-and, since nothing exciting happened, I waited until there was something to report. Now there is.

I've got a room filled with boxes that have been there since I moved in. I wanted to clear everything out after the move, but I couldn't stand up without falling over (this was just after the gentamicin, so I was in a really bad state). Then, of course, I was diagnosed with breast cancer, and, after the mastectomy and the aftermath, I was spending my time at the hospital, in one clinic or another. So ended the quest for some decent space and a really good clearout. At some point, the charity shops will bless me.

I had a colonoscopy and gastroscopy yesterday. I started preparing for them on Wednesday, by going on a very low fibre diet (following instructions, which is a first for me). No fruit, no vegetables, and no brown bread, only white bread. The preparation was as bad as the surgery. But I did it, took the noxious preparations, and was up all Sunday night. This stuff was supposed to work in about three hours. I knew that was a crock, so I took it early, around 2pm. Where was I even twelve hours later? In the loo, where else?

Yesterday I had to take the second sachet of liquid dynamite, and I was afraid that the surgeon wouldn't be able to get the old hosepipe up the backside and see anything. Apparently, he managed, although he did destroy two veins searching for a place to put the cannula so he could give me some sedation. I think that he might have worried that he would hurt me and that I would kick him. I was in the position on the table where I could have done some serious damage. But no, I restrained myself-after all, he was in charge of the hosepipe. He put another hosepipe down my throat (more sedation) and did a gastroscopy first (I asked him if they wash of f the hose and reuse it for the back end. Sad-he didn't think that was funny.)

I can tell you this: there was a lot of pain, sedation or no sedation, and swearing under my breath. And I wanted to see what was going on, since there was a big screen above me-but they positioned me so that I couldn't see anything-unless I was able to turn my head 180 degrees-and look up at the same time. All I know is that the doc took five samples to be biopsied, and that didn't make me happy at all. I asked him what he thought-but he said that he would see me after the results come back, and we would discuss the next move. He didn't look happy; now I'm not feeling very happy about the whole thing, but I will just have to wait and see.

With the pain I felt while he was shoving the old hosepipe up the rectum, I have to wonder how on earth anyone could be so crazy (or masochistic) to have anal sex. Maybe some people have no nerve endings. Well, I would never...

That brings you up to date. Today I have Tai Chi, and I think that I will join the beginners class, and place myself next to a chair in case I need to sit down quickly. I can watch. The sedation has made me very wobbly (more so than usual). But I've got the physiotherapist on Friday, so I will definitely keep working hard this week. I don't quit. I won't give up until the batteries run out.