I Don’t Really Need a Carer
I Don’t Really Need a Carer
Hello, lovely to meet you, Helen, come on in. This is the kitchen and this is the sitting room and this is the bedroom. I don’t really need a carer, but my husband is away on business and he worries aboutme.
Yes, I’ve had surgery and now I’m on chemo and radiation therapy. I have to remember to take the right pills at the right time, that’s the main thing. But other than that, I’m fine. I don’t really need a carer.
My husband is very protective and, to be honest, he’s overreacted. I’ll be an easy job for you, because I don’t really need any help. But it’ll be nice to have some company.
Yes, it all kicked off before Christmas. At first I was just really wobbly and then I kept falling over. So they scanned my brain and found this tumor. I had brain surgery and then loads of rehab. But I’m so much better than I was. I really don’t need a carer.
Let me show you around the kitchen. Tea and coffee? Yes, of course, just here.
Oh.
Sorry, not there. Here.
I just sometimes get confused about the cupboards. It’s no big deal. They took a big chunk of my brain out and sometimes I get memory lapses.
Cook me supper? Wow. Well, that would be very helpful, thank you! I feel very spoiled. But I don’t need it, really.
Yes, sorry, that saucepan is bust. My fault, I put an egg on to boil and forgot about it and it boiled all the way through. Stupid of me, really.
I think that’s when my husband first called the agency. He gets worried that I can’t cope on my own. But as I say, it was an overreaction. I don’t really need a carer. Yes, chicken would be lovely. There’s some in the fridge, I think. Oh, you know that already. Oh, you discussed supper with my husband? He is brilliant. I don’t know what I would do without him. But he’s gone to Ireland on work. Yes, he didn’t want to go, but life goes on, you know?
Yes, don’t worry, I’m happy to talk about it. The diagnosis was glioblastoma grade four, so that wasn’t great. But I had surgery and they got the whole tumor out, so fingers crossed.
Oh God. I’m so sorry, I’ve forgotten your name already.
Helen. Yes. Helen. I can remember that. Helen. Sorry. I think when they took the chunk of brain out, they took out my short-term memory with it. But I’m fine, really.
Yes, radiation and chemo. Temozolomide. You have to remember not to eat at certain times when you’re on this chemo, but luckily my husband reminds me, otherwise I would just eat a biscuit by mistake. I know. Easy to do. Yes, I love sweetcorn. Thank you so much!
It’s quite a full-time job, this being-ill business. Remembering to take the right drugs at the right time, and going to radiotherapy and having all these blood tests and MRI scans. I haven’t written anything for ages. I’m a writer, in case you didn’t know. Oh, you did. Oh, really? Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyedit.
How long are you staying tonight? What, you’re staying over? Wow, well, that’s very helpful. I hardly ever fall over anymore, but I suppose to be on the safe side…OK, I’ll call. Yes, I promise.
Yes, I do have a drug regime before bed. Well, that would be helpful. Oh, you’ve got a list from the agency? Well, that’s brilliant.
But don’t worry, I turn in very early these days. I’m asleep by nine o’clock and I don’t wake up till eight. Yes, my husband usually gets the children to school, but they’re with my mother today, as he’s gone away.
Broccoli? Yes, I’d love some. I’m trying to eat really healthily at the moment. Give myself every chance.
You had another patient with glioblastoma? Wow. What are the chances? Oh, really? Was he? Well, I’m glad I’m not the only one with memory loss.
He was also on temozolomide? Wow, snap. Yes, it does make me feel sick. But I have a drug to help with that. You take one drug and then you have to take another drug, that seems to be the rule. Anyway, I’m glad I’m not the only one to get side effects.
Yes, rice would be lovely, thank you so much!
So why aren’t you with that patient now?
Oh right.
Right.
Right. I’m sorry. That’s— Yes. It must be difficult for you.
When was that, then?
Do you know how many months after diagnosis before he…?
A year.
Wow.
Not long.
No, don’t worry, I’m fine. I sometimes get watery eyes. Well, I’m two months post diagnosis and I’m doing fine so far. Onwards and upwards, that’s what I say. You have to keep cheerful. And I have the children, they distract me. Oh yes, yes, please do go ahead and serve up. This is a real treat, having my supper cooked for me, but really, it’s quite unnecessary. Would you like some? Oh, you bring your own food. Sensible of you.
Oh, that bruise? Yes, I suppose it is quite big. If I went out, people would think my husband was beating me up! I got it when I tripped in the shower. Stupid of me. It was just a slippery floor. Oh, the other bruise? That was when I went to the loo one time. I just lost my footing and caught my face on the sink. Stupid ofme.
Yes, OK, I promise, I’ll ring the bell. No, really, I can shower on my own, but I don’t mind being escorted there, if you really feel…
And if I trip up on my way to the bathroom in the night or anything, I’ll call for you. Yes. I really promise.
But I’m sure everything will be fine.
No, I really am. Because, as I say, I don’t really need a carer.