105. Spirit-sinking time

Woke to a cloudy day and some strange sounds outside. The hay mower and baler have been out this week so I thought no more of it till Den informed me they were removing the trees that separate the two fields, part of our wood view. For those who don’t know me, our house is called Woodview - for now. In fact, considering the wood in question is Spring Wood, we now have an even better view of it. Unfortunately that won’t be for long.

I could have wept:
Going   Going   Gone 

The new view:

Just a row of hawthorn stumps left now. Even the bales have been removed. There are some very confused animals. One grouse paraded up and down, looking for his favourite perch and (almost) shaking his head in disbelief. 

So this is the end of this rural side of the village and the beginning of eight years of constant noise and disruption, with a lot of sulking on my part - until we find somewhere else to live and I’m just not up to considering moving for now.

On the bright side, I rang St James’s switchboard and asked for the Breast Care nurses, left a message for C and she rang me this afternoon. I haven’t seen or spoken to her since December and didn’t even realise she was my bc nurse till Dr D told me during radiotherapy. I’m now reassured about having the zolendrate drip the week after next (hopefully I can still find some friend to drive me as I feel a bit vulnerable for a cab) but I’m pigged off because she confirmed my thoughts about driving: I should wait for the MRI results. However, she did say she’d send an email to see if she could speed up the appointment process as it’s usually about 6 weeks. Add the waiting for results etc and that’s an addition 2-3 months not driving.

Today’s actually been pretty bad in terms of the peripheral neuropathy, with tingling along all fingers and thumbs and along my feet, rather than just the toes. As for my mouth, again it’s someone else’s! Nothing fits. On the positive side, still nothing much in terms of effects of radiotherapy (apart from the assumed obvious - that it’s destroyed any rogue cells that escaped the chemo (as if anything could!).