By Reck B
My dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer last September and since then I've started a few new threads on here to ask for any dosboder information/experiences only to cancel and delete my posts at the last minute - I'm not sure why as you dosbodders are always pretty cool when it comes to family advice. I guess i didn't want to come across as 'woe is me' or anything..
Well today I'm a bit more pissed today (in both senses of the words) following a pub lunch and a call from my distessed mum and feel the need to spew forth....
A bit of background - my dad was a fit and healthy, strong-as-an-ox 71 year old, a demon skiier and 'hardy farmer' type until this time last year when he started to feel exhausted and was losing weight quite rapidly "it's good that you're losing weight" said his overpaid googler GP as she continued to carry out blood/urine tests for months until his eventual CT scan revealed the tumor which by then had reached his liver. My dad is the first close family member to get cancer, so I'm right on google to check the prognosis and realise that pancreatic cancer is the fucker of all cancers.
Without going into a few other examples of (IMO) unbeleivable incompetence, 4 bouts of chemo later brings us up to today where his normal oncologist is replaced by some eastern european locum who announces to both my parents that due to the risk of not being able to swallow/breathe, they will not be able to provide any more chemo cycles. When questioned WTF he meant by this, he looked at his notes again and realised that my dad does not actually have Esophegus cancer and he's either got the wrong patient or cant read fucking english.
To be fair, the Macmillan nurses have been superb throughout and encouraged my parents to make a complaint, as this overpaid prick has done similar before - his GP needs to rethink her career too if
I'm a pragmatist, I know we all die at some point, but fuck me have they made a mess of my dad's care.
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