66. Steroid boo...

What a huge disappointment this week has been. It didn’t augur well when, after taking my blood test, Anne and I were told there was no space for me so we’d have to wait in the cheerless waiting room. Having only just managed to drag myself along the seemingly endless corridor, my heart sank but, with Anne laden like a packhorse, bags and coats for two, we got down to Costa and stayed over an hour. What a thriving trade they have.

Treatment didn’t start till almost 5! Then poor Anne had to go as one of the girls had been rushed to A&E and there was no way I was letting her sit holding my hand when she needed to be elsewhere. So I spent the next half hour trying to find someone who’d be available to pick me up sometime before 7. Steve to the rescue - I managed to catch him still at work so he hung around till I texted I would be ready for pick up in 20 minutes. What a treasure!

But almost FIVE hours for a 90-minute treatment!!

Yesterday I was all fired up for the steroid boost. Fair enough, I could walk without getting breathless and I could drive but where was the taste, the energy, the desire and need to DO something? None of the usual boost. We’d arranged to meet some friends for lunch but the only thing I could taste was the hot chocolate I ordered. I had a portion of tantrum stew awaiting me at home so I opted for just fries. Imagine chewing newspaper, that’s as close as I can get to the flavour. Ketchup - vinegar. Mayonnaise - nothing. And the tantrum stew wasn’t flavoursome either. Plus every bite was an assault on this bloody ulcer under my tongue, positioned perfectly to hit a tooth with any movement of my mouth. OW!

Today I have additional tingly-numb fingers and toes and my lips feel like they’ve been botoxed (I imagine) so the numb effect is getting worse. My mouth is very dry, which is preferable to yesterday’s excessive foam which could have filled a spittoon if they still made them (sorry). Nothing tastes except marshmallows (and what do they taste of anyway? Something vaguely sweet). I feel cheated. Please let it be a blip. Only 4 more treatments, hopefully on a Tuesday so I can go to Wharfedale Monday, get my bloods done and save them a few hours at St James’s. Better than all that hanging around and hopefully the 90 minute treatment won’t take up more than two hours.

Ok, moan over. I’m going to start my first FutureLearn course since September - Forensic something (good start Jan). It looks interesting and if it can penetrate the fug, great! AND I’ve secured a lift from a very kind book grouper for my next appointment, so that’s a load off my mind. Now I just need to get the dates of the last three (oh, the pleasure as that number gets lower each week) and arrange my transports and get hold of a breast care nurse at Wharfedale to discuss my proper prosthesis - so I can wear my nice light summery stuff without being lopsided. I’ve not given it a thought till now but I ordered a jumper from Jigsaw that definitely requires something a bit more delicate than a sports bra!

 I can never resist a dip-dye job!