165. Plus ça change....

Oh definitely plus c’est la même chose! Apart from a glorious early Spring week (although, come to think of it, it IS March - I’m just losing track of time), life just plods along. Plod is the appropriate word - my lazy lope is a thing of the past as I carefully place my feet with each delicate step, keeping the number of steps to a minimum!

Nothing has changed. I’m still riddled with pain. I still spend at least an hour every morning, massaging away the worst of it so I’ve got mobility. God knows how I’d cope if rapid reactions were required! I’ve had a second blood test to check my results are accurate before deciding on a treatment (hopefully there is one - B12 injections seem promising, thank you Trina and Lesley). I’ve had acupuncture at the Robert Ogden centre at St James’s and at last my allergic rash is fading, thanks to the hydrocortisone and antihistamines. So much for knee compression sleeves being helpful.

Dennis has finished his counselling but developed a nasty cold and cough and I have shown my true colours as a wife. He may have nursed me faithfully through the ‘horrors’ of cancer treatment but he’s banished to sleep in another room for having a cough! In fairness to myself, I did move myself but he insisted the following night and who am I to turn down such an offer. I am a selfish wife, that’s who.

I had my follow-up Pilates session. Quite what it followed up is debatable as I rarely remember to practise, usually when I’m cleaning my teeth and, if I follow the instructions, I’d end up with toothpaste dribbling down my front. I have to soften my knees, pull back my pelvis so it’s gently tilted and lean my spine forward. I then have to raise my sternum and drop my shoulders and imagine my chin is on a shelf and slide it back to the edge of the shelf (3). Go on, try it. Do you feel and look like an idiot?? After a lifetime of leaning back, hips thrust forward (2), I learn this is Very Bad Posture and needs rectifying. Since I’ve developed an old-lady stoop (1), I’ll try anything. It’s too soon to be an old lady.

In fact, today I had another urge to dash off an irate Letter to the Editor. Janet Street-Porter was bragging about her confident stride as an over-70, “not a senile shuffle,” and I thought of all those poor people probably in as much pain as I am but consigned to this amorphous group of over-70s labelled senile. There could be loads of reasons for shuffling. Regardless, it seemed such a contemptuous generalisation. Grrr. I am over-sensitive as I’m very conscious that this simply isn’t me. I also nearly picked up the phone to give Sainsbury’s online a taste of my incredulous ire, till I decided I should have been up at 9 to take the delivery myself. I ordered some hand wash - our usual plus a refill pack and I thought I’d test a new one. They had none of these items in stock but substituted with what they did have. Result - 8 bottles of hand wash. Honestly, who would buy EIGHT bottles of hand wash. The ‘shopper’ must have assumed I was a c-virus neurotic who’s planning to live off stashes of chocolate for the duration, chocolate being the only other thing bought in bulk. It was cheap, honest!

I know things can’t ever go back to normal. In cancer-world, we are advised to establish “a new normal.” I’d reject this as a cliché as awful as “the cancer journey” but I’m afraid it’s true. There has to be a new idea of what is normal in my world and that’s both entertaining and awful - and for perhaps my next entry. I remember way back saying I wanted to avoid pity-parties but it’s still hard.

                         

Ending on a positive note, I have learnt how to do an accent on the ipad at long last and I have my copy of The Mirror and The Light, all 882 pages, to savour. Do I whip through it (I know he’s executed so there’s no surprises) or do I read it sl-o-w-l-y to make the most of the final part of the trilogy? Having just galloped through the latest Ruth Galloway (yes Maureen, I’ll bring it on Monday for you), I think I’ll go for the slow read this time.