152. Oh what next??

THREE visits to St James’s next week. Three visits in 5 days. Ok, one is D’s counselling but nevertheless it’s making me loathe the place. Monday is the zometa infusion (all afternoon since, despite my asking three times for the bloods paperwork, it didn’t arrive for me to have my blood tested locally so I’ll start with a simple blood test and then have to wait for at least 90 minutes for results before they can prep me for what, in the end , is a 20 minute treatment). I try so hard to help them, free up a bed/chair for the next patient, but they can’t deal with the paperwork :(   Then, if last time is anything to go by, I’ll be wiped out for at least 3 days with fatigue. However, I have to get in for the MRI on Wednesday. I can hardly ring and say I’m not well. People seriously ill still drag themselves there for their MRIs. I have to man up. Whoa, I don’t know where that came from - I hate the expression (too sexist for me).

On the bright side, it gets the MRI out of the way and leaves me two weeks to recover before going to see Dr D for the results and being told nothing can be detected. Ergo, it IS chemo side effects and Jan tries hard not to poke out her tongue and say something childish like I told you so. However, hold your horses, Jan. I don't have two weeks clear. The following week, back to St James’s to have my eye zapped, something I put off in November 2018 because I thought I’d have started chemo by then. I shall be able to see clear as daylight again, instead of having a foggy lens. I can’t even get cataract replacements right- something has to go wrong.

The search for the elusive HT tablet continues. I have to continue with my existing brand for now as Accord can’t be obtained so I carry on unfolding and massaging my poor fingers several times a day, do bed cycling to get my knees moving and enable to walk me to the loo and just hope my feet aren’t agony. Today my feet were quite relaxed but my fingers were almost locked when I woke up. Weird. Pretty painful too but not unbearable. I’ll be a martyr for now and just wince delicately at intervals. Unfortunately, I sit and massage my hands without thinking now because the pain/discomfort is continual. I must look like Uriah Heep!

STOP Jan. This is close to the pity parties you wanted to avoid. Time for something uplifting.

If I could, I would send every one of you a copy of this book. It’s hard to describe. As it says in the introduction, having congratulated the reader on starting at the beginning, it’s for anyone from 80 to 8. I’d say 100+ to 3, if it’s being read to the child. A lonely boy befriends a mole. They befriend an injured fox. They befriend a skittish horse. In between, they pontificate ...

I was choked with emotion all the way through (5-10 minutes in the car wash) and I’ve read it again a few times. I even got D to read it and he even told me what he thought - or rather what it made him think. Who is this new man?? Buy it, buy it for yourself, for you friends, for your children, for your grandchildren. It’s a lesson in the innate goodness in everyone and a view of life we can all share. And there are a couple of beautiful illustrations. Look for the horse during the night..