More black spot II

How wonderful that the weekend started tonight! Jobby business books me to be at the airport at 4.30 am on Sunday, so I get tomorrow off in lieu. Hooray! At least till 3am Sunday morning.

Thus I am free to accompany Peter Ballocks to his Edinburgh hospital appt tomorrow. Things are not good. The docs are fixated on his tumour (a huge oesophageal adenocarcinoma) while spectacularly neglecting the person surrounding it. He can't even keep down his milkshake-type meal replacements now, and in the last few days even clear lemonade comes back up. If this goes on, he will die of thirst and hunger before they even get to play with the chemo and surgery to the tumour, as is their plan.

In fairness to the docs, I know PB is not his own best advocate- not least because he comes across as a jakie, minimises symptoms and fails to listen. Thus I am grateful that he's allowing me to attend his appt with him tomorrow. I talked him into it by offering a lift there and back, and squeezed in the request to accompany him for the consultation before he knew what he'd agreed to.

Peter is not a good historian and needs a less-obtunded advocate to point out the basics to his medical team. Palliative care was mentioned by one doc 2 weeks ago, but he wasn't and isn't able to process the import of the information. Don't know for sure if he's failed to take in prognosis through cognitive dissonance or whether he's just too cognitively fucked to understand. Doesn't really matter. He's paid his stamp and is entitled to all the NHS can offer. Depending, this might include an oesophageal stent so he can eat and drink, some parenteral nutrition/hydration or perhaps as little as hefty doses of morphine and fentanyl to satiate his hunger and thirst.

H-etc. (his ex-wife) is the angel in this picture. Now that she knows he's gravely ill, she wants to nurse him here in Edinburgh. Knowing how hungry he is, she can't eat in front of him now, and will be losing weight she can't spare before we know it.

Mr Ballocks has no transport (he's too weak to handle his big motorbike now) and has zero social support in his Borders village, where the hospital is 30 miles distant. His cousin lives 2 mins walk over the road but has declined to visit or collect liquid meal prescriptions from Kelso because of his own overwhelming personal problems (which do not include illness or threat of death). Cousin took £30 off Peter to run him to the Borders hospital for his last endoscopy, without a trace of shame. Tomorrow, part of my advocacy will be to make Peter's social circumstances clear and ask for his care to be transferred up here, as is H.-etc's wish.

What can you do?