A change of scenery

Tuesday wasn't the greatest day.
Pottered around in the morning, took some ibuprofen to try and dull the pain - very achey. Decided that I had to do something more constructive than merely vacuuming, so bagged up the smelly sleeping bags and took them to the launderette. Bunged in the washing and set off to do a couple of other little errands, including dropping my books at the library and get something new to read. Walking around the library was quite hard work, so ended up just grabbing some random pulp crime and a John le Carre and retreating to the car.
By the time I got back to the launderette, book in hand, I was feeling pretty rough, and decided that it was time for more drugs. I figured that if I went home I would never get out again, so went to the shop next door to the launderette to get more ibuprofen and a bottle of lucozade. As the dryer ran I started to feel very bad indeed, and by the time the washing was dry enough to take out I was struggling to get to the car.
By the time I had dragged myself up the stairs I had given up caring whether I lived or died - every single part of me ached. I crawled into bed. Dear husband came and stroked my head, and commented that I was quite hot - a quick wave of the thermometer revealed a temp of 37.6 which is a bit higher than normal and a full degree higher than my normal temp which sits at about 36.5 most of the time. An hour later this had climbed to 38.1 and the thermometer was bleeping in a very insistent way - that's a fever by any standards, so it was time to call for help. I rang the chemo unit and explained what was going on, and they said to head for A&E.
There's a protocol for dealing with people like me. The big fear is neutropenic sepsis - that is when someone with a compromised immune system (like a chemo patient) develops an infection which they can't fight. This can be lethal quite quickly, so under these circumstances the drill is to take the history, get some bloods to the lab and start IV antibiotics immediately. The ideal is for that treatment to start within an hour. The trouble is that it's not a common problem, so it's not a well-known protocol. I was called out of the A&E waiting room in five minutes and parked in an office - this was good as it got me away from all the sick people in the queue and their germs. What was less good was leaving me in that office for the next hour and a half. It was half an hour before the triage nurse assessed me, then he came back half an hour later to say they needed bloods, another hour later someone came to take me to a cubicle and then another half hour to get the bloods taken. I hit A&E about 5.45pm and it took three hours to get as far as taking blood. At this point a very nice doctor came and fitted a cannula so they could give me the antibiotics, and she explained the plan her boss had outlined - ie take bloods, give IV antibiotics. This wasn't exactly a surprise, but at least I knew they were keeping me in and I could let himself go home soon. After a stop at X-Ray to take a nice pic of my chest (but not for page 3!) we made it to the Acute Medical Unit about 9pm where there was a lovely isolation room awaiting me.
A doctor carrying a tray of something has just arrived - more later when she has finished...