I had some expectations but they were not fulfilled. I got no rest from noise: in spite of the old adage “silence heals” the hospital room was equipped with a telly. I know that people here are addicted to noise, but for me, lying between a guy watching a TV programme and another concurrently watching a film on a laptop was so unbearable it drove me with my Kindle to a corridor armchair.
Which wasn’t the worst. That came when the latter bastard woke up at 2am and began watching another film, waking me up as well and driving me to the corridor armchair for another two hours.
And the cure proper hasn’t begun either. They just made the mask for me (during which procedure I experienced a panic attack, possibly caused in part by sleep deprivation, so that we almost had to stop it and then start all over again) and discharged me for another two and a half weeks. The first bona fide treatment should only happen on the 23rd.
Ah well, at least I may get less irksome roommates then. Not that the chances are great, in this town.
ETA, 13/11/16: And it went on: on Thursday they phoned to tell me Monday’s CT scan didn’t come out well because of my fillings, so I should have a PET/CT scan done this week. Neither was that all: once I’m checked in the hospital next week, I’d have a PEG tube inserted, and only the following day the radiotherapy can finally begin . . .