"My illness"

I cared almost single-handedly for my husband when he cancer - I was his factotum. We had no team and never saw a MacMillan nurse, and even when he was terminally ill I had to fight to get him into a hospice. Somehow we were not on anyone's radar. At the medical centre his doctor's worked part-time so it felt like his care was not high on anyone's agenda.

Now I have cancer. The only difference since 2009 is that I have no carer at home, but I have learnt to speak up but it is depressing. No questions were asked about who would be helping me when I left hospital. No visits, no phone calls, from anyone. I am on the 'routine enhanced recovery postoperative pathway' which has meant for me that I look after myself. Everyone is just too busy. I found out yesterday that I will need further treatment, after I made about ten phone calls trying to find out if my histology results were good or bad. There have been several hiccups - appointment problems, not meeting my specialist nurse for example. It is assumed we all have family support. My daughter works full-time and but is doing her best, but I am alone most of the time. My son lives in the other side of the world and other family members hours away in other parts of the country. I have friends but they are older themselves with their own problems.

I went to the Kent and Canterbury to have CT scans, MRI scan and an Ultrasound. I saw an Urologist there to have a flexible cystoscopy in July because my GP thought my bleed came from my bladder. I was not sure and asked the Urologist why I was not having a Gynaecological check as well. He kindly wrote to my GP suggesting that I was referred to one. She was not pleased but referred me anyway. There was a mix-up about my appointment. I found this out when I phoned up the appointments people after nearly two weeks had passed. After I insisted it was sorted out on the day I phoned, an initial appointment was made at the William Harvey. Fortunately I drive so could make it. I spent the night at the beginning of September at the hospital where I had a hysteroscopy and biopsy - my grandson drove me there.  I had a hysterectomy at the QEQM. I was asked to come in on the previous day after I made enquiries about having a pre-assessment. I managed to get my grandson to drive me there and I arrived at the agreed time only to find out the person who phoned me had gone home, and after waiting over an hour to be seen a nurse told me they was too busy to do an assessment. I then broke down and after that was treated well. The surgical team were great and I feel I got good care.

I should like to point out that my two day stay in hospital was the first one for fifty years. In fact I have only been in hospital twice. I can hardly be called a burden, but that is what I am bombarded by from the media and the NHS spokespeople. 'Bed blocking' is a hateful term as is the implications that getting older is a massive problem. It implies our usefulness is at an end. None of this helps my feeling of well being. I am in the position of having to care for myself, organise and pay for any help at home and unfortunately it is a cash cow. Most older people like me with a reasonable pension and education,will have to fend for themselves.

I witnessed in hospital the turn around - one patient out of the bed at the earliest possible time, a quick wipe and new bedding and someone else in the bed so rapidly I would question the safety of it and the risk of infection. My key-hole surgery was good but the after care a bit of an oxymoron.