188. Oh dear...

I am slightly mortified to have to say that today I received my first Government Support Package. Dennis had strict instructions to thank the deliverer and ask them to take it back but he forgot till it was too late.

I’m now the proud possessor of enough shower gel for 2 showers, a toilet roll, enough carrots for 6 months and various canned goods, including Baxter’s Chicken Broth which I’m tempted to try. It’s not a very healthy diet. Down the bottom, I discovered a Fray Bentos tinned pie but it’s cheese and onion - ugh. I’d forgotten all about these staples of my student days and, had it been a steak pie, I might well have given that a try just to reminisce.

It’s impossible to stop the parcels unless I reregister (third time) on the government website and tick the box saying I am able to access food. But if I do that, I lose my priority slot with Sainsbury’s. I’ve rung the council coronavirus helpline and they say it will be ok but it was their email that instructed shielded people to go back and reregister to make sure we retained our place on the vulnerable people list the supermarkets use. Huge sigh. Meantime, I’m trying to get someone local to pick it up for the Otley Food Bank, though I might keep the soup!

I had a lengthy consultation at last with Dr W, a consultant Rheumatologist at Chapel Allerton Hospital. I think the oncologist must have given them a prod and she was very reassuring and pretty certain of her diagnosis, after loads of questions. She said that most people my age have a level of osteoarthritis which is disguised by their general level of fitness but that chemotherapy will have taken its toll on my body, particularly because of my very low weight. Ok, it did go down to 6 stone 3 but she said I am “a tiny little thing” and had little enough muscle mass before chemo started. Basically, I’ve lost something or other in my tendons (some kind of -poenia) which has left my joints overly exposed and that’s why I’m suffering. I can’t tell you what a relief it was to know it is REAL. It’s a vestige of my childhood. I can hear my mum saying things about me ‘putting it on’ and, deep down, I still feel like a performer, a whinger or a hypochondriac if I express any pain or mention my symptoms. So I kind of feel vindicated - I’m not putting it on when I say there are times in the day when I cannot use my fingers, when my knees will give way etc etc.

I can safely have my next zometa infusion, which is a relief because it’s a treatment I really need to prevent any cancer spreading to my bone marrow. That’s Monday 13th and I’ve already checked - I have some lorazepam left! It will be strange being on my own and, even worse, I must wear a mask at all times. I’ve practised and 1. My glasses steamed up every time I exhaled and 2. I feel claustrophobic and a bit panicky. However 3. I shall have taken a lorazepam so I shan’t care :)

Back to Dr W. Once the hospitals lift their lockdown, I shall need to see a physiotherapist and an occupational therapist (that was one career I seriously considered at one point at school lol. Me!!). Meantime, I have to douse my feet, knees and hands in anti-inflammatory gel three times a day. If I don’t notice an improvement in 2-3 weeks, I need to try a different type until I find the one that suits me and she ‘promised’ I will find one. I also have hand exercises for 3 times a day and leg exercises which are very gentle but leave me utterly exhausted and with back ache! I am laughing as I type this, by the way. Oh, it won’t go away completely so I won’t recover my former level of fitness (A few people might laugh at that idea) but I should be able to get back to tai chi. Just no marathons from now on. Shame :)

Yesterday, I very slightly infringed regulations by entertaining Anne to a cuppa and cake socially distanced in my empty garage (the car’s not back from the repair shop yet). It was drizzling and windy, plus quite noisy so impossible to sit outside. On Sunday, the day before I’m allowed, I shall be entertaining the three Cake Eaters socially distanced in my garden (or in my garage again) so my head will be spinning with all this social contact.

Talking of noise, I was a bit taken aback to look in a different direction out of the bedroom window and see how close the building is now. This young man is building at the back of my neighbour’s garden, the houses being about 7 metres from her fence so this is the tree outside our bedroom and then the conifer which is part of our boundary - there’s no sense of perspective but he’s about 16 metres from us. Convert him into bedroom windows and it’s so bloody depressing. Then I look the other way and see this: a roof has gone up on one of the houses further away. They will get closer and closer. Aaaargh!