35. My day...

Day 19/21. I should feel fine. Should? I’m going by the last cycle of symptoms. But it’s all haywire and unpredictable.

First I needed to get ready to go out. There was only an inch of snow and traffic was moving steadily so nothing to worry about there. However, I couldn’t put on my mascara, my hand was shaking so much. I’m assuming it was fatigue. I decided against the wig. Just a beanie and a defiant baldy me.

Then a quick trip to the local hospital for my blood test. At St James’s, this process takes about an hour. You sit in a packed room where hardly anyone says anything (too big an elephant in the room?) and wonder if you’re going to pick up an infection - I wondered why so many prefer to stand in the corridor! At Wharfedale, I was in and done in 5 minutes. And I mean done. A simple drive to the hospital, short walk to the pay and display machine which one man was destroying single-handedly because it wouldn’t give him his debit card back; a slower walk back to the car... deep breaths: I can get there. Another walk back to the entrance and a sit down in the corridor for a breather, before reaching haematology.

After that, a visit to see a friend’s ‘new’ apartment. A short walk from the car and I think I might have looked done in because Pauline 1. Suggested we use the slope rather than the steps. 2. Used the lift for one floor (I didn’t dare say lifts terrify me and I survived intact) 3. Suggested I put my feet up on the sofa and have a lie-down. To top it all, she went to the trouble of fetching her car and driving me halfway through Otley to deliver me back to my car door, to save the walk! Well, Pauline was right. I was completely done in and appreciated every gesture.

Then I lolled around with a cup of tea, too tired to eat. I felt completely drained. I got a letter dictated by my oncologist on 15 December (good job it wasn’t urgent). It summarised my cancer, my prognosis and proposed treatment for my GP. I gave it a cursory read - nothing I didn’t know, but seeing it in writing is disheartening. The power of Land of Denial is waning.

I read the paper and did the puzzles so obviously my brain was functioning, then I completed my knitting and ate a hot meal. The texture was slime. The flavour was non-existent. What I wouldn’t give for ‘tastes of salt!’ I’d already had a digestive biscuit which felt and tasted like I imagine sawdust does. I should have expected it. However, a bright spot: I succumbed to the lure of Cadbury’s. The smell was bliss. The texture was just as I remember. The flavour a little dubious but not repellent.

Then TV. Cancer ads everywhere. I DON’T NEED THESE REMINDERS PLEASE. GIVE ME A BREAK. Everything I watched was uninteresting and I felt perilously close to tears of self pity. But I don’t do tears so I hadn’t even got that release. What I wouldn’t give for a good cry right now.

So, some activity, which is good. No energy, which is not good. No taste (it had improved last month by now). Sores on my gums, though my tongue is less sore now. Sore eyes. Soreness wherever there’s soft tissue. Basically, I’m pissed off. Perilously close to a pity party? And only 2 days before I start again. I’m looking forward to the steroid boost at least.