83. What a diff’rence a day makes

That tune has been going through my head for hours. Unfortunately I only recall the first line since it must be from the 1950s so Google will have to come to the rescue eventually. Meantime, it just sums up today.

Yesterday, pumped up a bit with steroids, I had a ‘good’ day. Sue picked me up and drove me to book group, where I managed to lisp garrulously about a book I’d only part-read as my contribution to the discussion. It was surprising how much I remembered from the first time I read it and it was hardly a demanding read, being our foray into children’s fiction.

I think all of us read it as it was intended - children’s fiction - without delving into the more esoteric aspects, let alone the controversy over how political and anti-Church it is. Frankly, I’m not up to it! We ended with talk about hospitals, side effects, incontinence (not me) and can-cans. And for once, the cake was absolutely delicious (and I could taste it) so I brought some home for today.

Fortunately I’d decided to stick with my decision to wear my wig from now on. I don’t feel ‘me’ with it on and I don’t care about having so little hair but I really don’t want to be drawing pitying looks as happened last week so it’s the easier option now. I just wish it fit better but, if things keep to schedule, I’ll only need it for maybe 4 weeks and it hardly seems worth the effort of making an appointment and arranging a lift to have it refitted. Back to the ‘fortunately...’ My gym membership revived that day so I was able to swap my Cookridge Hall card for my new Bannatyne’s wristband. I find the idea hilarious - so many of us are in retirement already and we get a trendy black wristband! However, it had to be accompanied by a photograph! FORTUNATELY I had a wig and plenty of makeup on.

I also heard from the car dealer - my car is ready for me. Unfortunately, the insurance hasn’t paid out so I was making call after call, ending with paying the DVLA 25 quid for a copy of the log book to prove my ownership. Ridiculous. But I’m in no hurry - my ribs won’t be fit to drive for a few weeks yet. And I popped round to see how Lisa had got on the other day and must have been there at least 90 minutes.

Almost a normal day though I couldn’t get to sleep and didn’t wake up till 10.30 today. I woke up to a horrible numbness - toes, fingers, face particularly - mini nosebleeding and a sore mouth with a new ulcer on the other side of my tongue now the original has healed. The problem is, when my mouth’s numb, I bite my tongue. Eventually, it turns into an ulcer. So today has been pretty horrid. I’ve managed to do a bit of knitting since I can move my fingers even if I can’t feel them and I’ve been able to type using my fingernails again but generally I’ve felt very sorry for myself and wallowed. Trouble is, tomorrow is scheduled to be worse. Roll on the weekend, then I can look beyond that to fewer and fewer side effects and my body readjusting to pre-chemo behaviour. Top priority right now for me is my mouth - I want my own mouth back, with my own tongue fitting comfortably. I want my tastebuds back to normal and my salivary system to function healthily so I don’t have to rely on my makeshift spittoon!  I want to be able to not feel my soft palate is numb (I just don’t allow my mind to even contemplate that detail) and I want to be able to swallow liquids without the risk of choking. I want my top lip to revert to how it was, with no internal swelling, no curving over my teeth and absolutely no lisp!

That’s not much to ask is it? So that’s why “What a dif’rence a day makes” is going through my mind. Functioning almost normally (but with fatigue) yesterday. Today feeling shit and wondering what fresh awkwardness, discomfort or humiliations tomorrow will bring.

*1959 Dinah Washington - now I have to listen to it to get it out of my head! The nice thing is it’s about rainbows and a happier future. How appropriate :)