Now for Sheila:
I omitted to mention it was our 48th wedding anniversary on Wednesday. I forgot but was reminded by Trina (who sent another of the glorious Monet bouquets) and Dennis had decided that, as with Christmas and birthdays, it will wait till the all clear. End of anniversary. However, here’s to happy days - with the sad evidence that 1. We never bothered to buy any pictures (hence the word PROOF) 2. The only colour photos were taken by my grandfather on a 35mm camera and are tiny and 3. Refusing to allow my mum to wear a hat was not a good idea. Who the hell suggested a hairpiece!! However, thanks for being a great friend, a beautiful bridesmaid and persisting when I never sent cards. Only you of the three of us has retained that glorious 1971 hair!
Ok, Woodstock. I’m sick of it already because D was too tight to splash out on an exorbitantly priced multi-media boxed set (well, it’s described as a crate) and now it’s sold out. So he’s downloading all 37 albums and struggling. And I have to sympathise with every illegal download glitch. I do admire his persistence though and thoroughly enjoyed the Santana set I heard this morning from downstairs. My best memory of the time (apart from some gems in the film like a heavily stoned and tie-dyed John Sebastian talking to the camera) was taking Dennis to see it the evening before he started his first teaching job when he was, for Dennis, surprisingly nervous. He denies it to this day but he DID start singing along to “I wasn't born to follow.” (An hour later: it’s been bugging me - and this is the price one pays for marrying someone with a faultless memory of music - detail is everything. Ok, since the Byrds turned down the chance to perform at Woodstock, D couldn't have sung along to that track. That was when we went to see Easy Rider earlier in the year. So I’m nearly right. Now I’m wondering, what did he mumble along to??).
Back to the present. Thursday and Friday passed without a last-minute summons from St James’s so I’m back to my 99.8% confident about next Friday. As far as I see it, the only thing that might go wrong is that the MRI has picked up some permanent nerve damage from chemo - but that’s ok. It’s inconvenient and uncomfortable but it’s not ruining my quality of life and it’s obviously no danger to me. So long as I can drive. My refresher driving session is booked for next Sunday and I’m hoping I’ll be independent again, ever grateful to those people who’ve been described by a reader of this blog as ‘a wonderfully supportive group of friends and family’ that I’ve been so lucky to have.
Now I have to think about whether I’m ready to ask those questions I’ve not asked. I suspect the answer is no, leaving me with the choice to defer them longer (maybe fret a little occasionally) or take a deep breath and ask, knowing it will take time to process some of the answers. Yes, I’m not daft, I know some of the answers already but I need to hear them from the Expert, not from a forum and other people’s experiences. I’m currently veering towards the defer option as I recognise that emotionally I perhaps don’t have the resilience right now.
My weaning off gabapentin is heading to zero intake - just one tablet tonight (a third of a child’s minimum dose!). It’s not made a jot of difference to my swollen inner lips but I am beginning to notice some improvement in saliva production. That simply has to improve because it’s a bugger trying to swallow food which doesn’t slip down easily. Right now, that’s most food so I have to have water beside me all the time. So far, so good. On the downside, not only is the radiotherapy pain horrid (fortunately sporadic - I’ve been hearing of nightmare experiences I’ve been so fortunate to miss) and the neuropathic pain surprising BUT I’ve discovered that the gabapentin has been holding the side effects of the hormone therapy at bay. I thought it was going to be as easy as my menopause - the occasional hot flush and night sweats - but that’s my naivety for you. Everything is linked. It seems gabapentin is often prescribed to reduce the hot flushes and the joint pain. Dammit. Well, it’s early days so I’m not jumping to conclusions but I’ll be mighty pissed off if I have to choose between pain, sweats and hot flushes or foamy saliva. I’m thinking I’d opt for the pain to be honest.
48 years!!!!!!!! And neither of us has been convicted of murder.
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