Another brick wall

More happy bashing

Today I phoned the female doctor in Terni who does lymphedema treatment.

Speaking brightly, she booked us in for next Friday and then described the clinic’s location.

We looked on Google Maps. When the photos were taken, there wasn’t a single parking space on the one-way streets near the clinic. There is, however, a little car park right next to it.

I phoned back. Unfortunately they aren’t allowed to use the car park, but if I phone ahead (while driving) and hover outside the clinic, someone will come down and escort Clive up in the lift while I go to look for a metered space.

It suddenly hit me that we’d booked a private appointment rather than a National Health one, so I phoned a 3rd time. Still the bright voice, but as soon as I told her the situation, we went from ‘red carpet’ to ‘wipe your feet before you come in’, as Clive put it.

I phoned Terni National Health. We must book through a Pharmacy and no, they have no idea when the first appointment is.

I phoned Valtopina Pharmacy. They can’t make the appointment because, although our chit says ‘lymphedema treatment’, it has the wrong department name on it. (I’d heard ‘angiology’ as ‘oncology’ and since that didn’t make sense, our doctor had insisted on putting ‘phlebology’.)

In fact the Pharmacy weren’t sure they could make the appointment at all, seeing as it was Terni, but if I went in they would see.

The Pharmacy eventually found Terni National Health on their computer and checked the next available date for me: 26th April.

Back at home I phoned the doctor in Foligno hospital who had ratified and supposedly supported Clive’s application for intensive treatment in Germany, hoping for some advice. He couldn’t disown us fast enough.

I phoned the administrator in Perugia who had communicated  the rejection of Clive’s application for the E112. He advised an appeal on the basis of waiting-time.

We’re now pursuing a possible change of family doctor as it’s imperative that we have proper advice and backing from someone who is supportive.

“And another one just flew over,” says Clive.

Lymphedema

The notice reminds patients that smoking is forbidden in the surgery

I went to see our doctor today. He had a cigarette alight throughout the consultation despite the notice on his door. (I sneaked a photo of it with the mobile phone.)

The main reason for the visit was to ask for a referral to a certain female doctor in Terni who does lymphedema treatment.

Just before Christmas, Clive applied for an E112 which would have allowed him to have intensive in-patient treatment of his lymphedema in Germany, something which has been accorded him twice before, and which he is supposed to have at least annually. We heard last week that the application has been refused. The previous ratifying surgeon has retired and been replaced by a new doctor who just seems to have looked up lymphedema treatment in Italy on the internet.

The provision he found, which consists of an outpatient clinic attached to the oncology department of Terni hospital, will almost certainly not give Clive the help he needs, but Politics requires that we pursue it.

Returning to our doctor: he informed me that he was unable to give a referral to the Terni clinic. We have to make an appointment with a phlebologist (because lymphedema comes under the heading phlebology) and ask him for a referral – a prolonged 2-stage affair. I later found out that the earliest appointment we can get with a phlebologist is May 31st.

This is, of course, no good at all. The female doctor gets back off holiday next Monday so I’ll phone and see what I can do direct.

The whole thing is a bitter blow.

Clive’s experience of lymphedema

Joules’ check-up

Joules part way through his treatment for cancer

We took Joules to Terni today for his first follow-up.

The ultrasound showed that his organs and lymph nodes were fine – no signs of cancer.

However it also revealed a slight problem with his kidneys which wasn’t there at the time of the last ultrasound. It might have been caused by an infection when his white blood cell count was low due to the chemotherapy.

I was given some ‘pearls’ (gelatin capsules) of Omega 3 with vitamin E to give him – 3 a day for the foreseeable future. I won’t be able to resist jokes about swine and wisdom.

We returned home to a real mess. Kepler had somehow managed to get a book off the bookshelf and had shredded most of it with great thoroughness all over the floor. (It was a dictionary, giving new meaning to the phrase ‘swallowing a dictionary’.)

He was extremely hyperactive for about an hour, then just collapsed on his blanket under my desk and went fast asleep.

Joules of course was delighted to be back, and so are we delighted that his future looks as rosy as anyone’s can be.

Another wasted journey

Joules

We drove to Terni today to find out, once again, that Joules’ white blood cell count is too low for him to have chemotherapy.

That’s the 4th wasted journey. But he has had treatment in between and we’re now half way through the sessions: 4 down, 4 to go.

I never would have believed the whole thing would be so onerous, but I haven’t doubted for one second that we made the right decision.

Apart from anything else, Joules has been in rude health and high spirits throughout. And who could resist the little face in the photo?