Out of everything we have gone through during the diagnosis and treatments of my grandfathers cancer, my biggest test has got to have been… hearing aids! My grandfather is somewhat of a character, short, Scottish and deaf! He will sing and dance on cue, and takes joy from being the centre of attention. But OMG does he drive me potty, he had hearing aids but refused to wear them due to been able to “hear everything” so instead relied on me to take in all the information. This would not be a problem if he didn’t make a habit of picking up odd words and then deciding what was actually said by these few words, he would change them to something he wanted to hear and then tell the world that this was actually what happened. The amount of arguments we have had because he has refused to believe me, and every week the words come from his mouth “your always right”, its like, yes! I am right, I listen, so do me a favour and either wear your hearing aids or believe me the first time!

He recently sold his house so I decided to work on him to purchase some digital hearing aids, after a very amusing conversation where he told my husband Kev he wasn’t sure he could afford these hearing aids, which received the response from Kev of “how much did you get for your house?” he finally agreed to get some. Life has been so much better now that he can hear, unfortunately it also means he doesn’t miss a trick. We were in the chemo room the other week when a nurse mentioned his name to the pharmacist at the other end of the room and he heard her, shouting “here, I’m here what’s up?” the poor nurse looked mortified, I think she must of thought she had shouted.

His pic line is another matter, he was an engineer all his life so always feels the need to fix things. Anyone who knows anything about pic lines understands how delicate they are and how important it is not to touch or disturb the line especially when undressed and open to infection. Well every time he has the dressing done does he feel the need to try and touch the wire, or blow on the area to dry it, I literally have to tell him to sit on his hands. The poor nurses with all their experience have to listen to him question “why don’t you do it this way”? “what about turning it that way”? “lift it up and tape it there”. Thankfully the nurses are amazing and so patient with him.

One or two nurses have a habit of reading his name wrong, Angus, the amount of times they come out shouting for Agnes, he will turn up in his kilt one of these days. He loves the look on everyone’s face when he tells them his middle name….Kneebone!!

Mood swings are another biggy, at our last chemo appointment I was stood at the end of the bed and the nurse asked if I wanted a chair up by the side of him, I politely declined saying if I was that close I might throttle him, she was putting a yellow line over his pic and I asked for a spare one to wrap round his throat!!! When asked if he had any new side effects I asked if being cantankerous was a one…. apparently it is!


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