Back to Dr D, from Macmillan. Increasingly, Dr D and Dr G are your medical rocks. Dr D is endlessly patient and understanding. You never feel rushed, your questions are taken seriously and given consideration. You feel there is nothing you can't ask, that nothing is too much trouble.
You talk about pain, and Dr D suggests, as expected, to up the dose of the main painkiller to combat the now constant ache in your back. Then, out of nowhere, you ask about end of life care - what...is it. What happens - where would it take place. And Dr D says, well it's up to you, but here - in the hospital you are in - is always a possibility. As you ask questions, you realise that you're a little tearful talking about this - and to your surprise you see that Dr D is too. Somehow, her reaction is remarkably comforting, and it feels as if this interaction is more human and less...clinical...than so many others.
The day before, after working hours, you had dropped an email to Dr G setting out what happened at the appointment in London, asking for a time to talk through the options. By 9.15 in the morning, you have an email from him, and an appointment for the next day. You say to H - wow.
The core team of people around you is something else. They do everything they can, and more besides. You feel protected, cared for, cocooned. Like everything that can be done, is being done.
You can ask for nothing more than that. It's just such a shame that - alas - none of them has a magic wand.
