194. This is getting ridiculous

 Sorry folks. Almost everything has been so unrelentingly miserable that I chose not to write my blog. I have entry 193 started and unfinished - started on 9 August. Also, they’ve changed the format of Blogger and I struggle with it. My apologies but maybe this is telling us something...

Anyway, to make you smile, I’ll reflect on our 49th wedding anniversary. I’ve learnt to have no expectations so a “Happy Anniversary“ delivered along with my morning cuppa was pretty much going to be my lot. I got Dennis a book he was keen to read and I sent him a bouquet of flowers. I chose a white concoction with an unusual green flower because it included three very large white chrysanthemums. Very early in our marriage, Dennis had gone to Leeds market to buy his new wife a bouquet to celebrate two weeks in our new house. Yes, he could make wonderful little gestures. When I opened the door, he stood with this huge bouquet of TWELVE giant white chrysanthemums. He’d carried them home on the bus. I’m afraid I just burst out laughing because it looked like he was holding a wreath and, yes, I have not had flowers bought for me since. As they say, my bad.

I included what I thought was an amusing and loving reminder of the legendary white chrysanths but it was wasted. I left him to arrange his own flowers and noticed them in the hearth. I found it hard to believe my eyes. I decided to say nothing and see what happened. This picture is Day 8.

Eventually I had to ask him what kind of flowers he’d got. He had no idea (so much for my loving message meaning anything). I then gently slid off the green plastic protection M&S had put on their blooms to reveal their real glory. The rest were dead of course. That was 14 August and two of them are still going strong so maybe they enjoyed hibernation. Not bad value, M&S! And the cat adores fighting with the mass of falling petals.

I’m killing time before I am able to take my new medication - a  single dose of a strong antibiotic since the last batch didn’t get rid of my excruciating UTI. It’s been a real farce trying to find something that I could swallow (another long story I’ll spare you) but I am allowed to take it at 11pm, having taken all my night meds early. No food 3 hours either side and no peeing. THAT is a tough order but I’m hoping it will work quickly and I’ll sleep through the night. How does such a tiny part of the body create such appalling pain??

Tomorrow I have a telephone consultation with an oncologist. I don’t know about you, but I kind of expected things to be back to normal by now so I had a long chat with someone at Macmillan who advised me to go on the offensive now because things have been dragging on way too long. Indeed they have. Here is a peep inside my bottom drawer with all my meds organised by importance, spare boxes stored at the back:

It’s ridiculous isn’t it! But if it’s necessary, then I’ll take them as directed (apart from the diazepam, a luxury I don’t often use). But are they doing any good? I don’t feel any better and in fact I feel markedly worse. Hence going on the offensive tomorrow with the poor oncologist, who probably won’t know me from Adam. I can’t go on being permanently ill - but that’s how it feels right now. That’s why I haven’t been writing my blog.