212. Resolutions

Well, I thought I’d get that (resolutions) out of the way quickly. I’m not a fan and, although I am fully aware I would benefit, I know they would be abandoned within days as I’ve never liked feeling obliged to do something.

I received a Fitbit for Christmas. It’s all-singing and all-dancing but I fear it will fail to inspire me. On the hour, there’s a slight buzz on my right arm that makes me jump slightly. Then I smile, knowing it’s a battle of wills between artificial intelligence and personal will. If I want to do 250 steps, I will. Mainly I don’t. I think I have a LONG way to go before me and my Fitbit have a good working relationship - maybe when I grow out of my stubbornness? However, I am intrigued by the analysis of my sleep. I haven’t been told off yet, though my ‘score’ isn’t anything to rave about. I need to find out what it all means, as well as why there are neon lights flashing on the back when I take it off for a shower. If that’s what’s reading my data (current resting heart beat 83, a lot higher than it used to be) then I have to wonder what lurid rays are penetrating my wrist!

That out of the way, I must do this: 

Sorry it’s not sparkly as it should be. It refused to cooperate.

Christmas in the Brown household was as expected. A lot of gifts from my dear friend who so loves giving - and they are all appreciated, including the Fitbit (you never know, it may yet succeed) - and from a few friends and... well, I said Dennis had cancelled his Christmas and, as ever, he meant it. I received a cardboard box in which was the Collectors’ Edition of Bryan Ferry’s 1974 Albert Hall show. This was bought under his guidance (my email, my credit card), not because I want it but because it would add to my ‘complete’ collection. As I don’t consider myself a collector, I think we can safely say it was for the satisfaction of someone else. The music is irrelevant. I haven’t listened; I don’t do vinyl nowadays. That was it, apart from the addition of almost-raw sprouts to our usual roast dinner. I should have had some pigs-in-blankets as a festive addition but they were black (“The instructions said...”). If I sound pissed off, it’s because I am. I appreciate that he is anxious and this is a manifestation of that anxiety but it did nothing to make me feel comforted.

Yes, I do have a degree of anxiety now. Maybe it was the ophthalmologist agreeing I needed an MRI. Maybe it’s the tests drawing closer (if I’m right and it’s Friday today, just 2 days and they’re done). I get surges of adrenaline which mean anxiety to me and I push them straight back down but, damage done, I know the anxiety is there. When all this palaver first started, cancer didn’t get a look in. All I cared about was my phobias and my ‘can’ts’ and how I was going to manage to get through everything. This time it’s different. I know my fears and phobias can be managed. I know I can get through the treatments. So there’s space for cancer and realistic thoughts. Yes, there is a chance the enlarged node in my neck is a metastasis (and therefore maybe the eyelid is too) but, equally, there’s the likelihood that it’s an enlarged node because it has to work harder in the absence of the axillary nodes. Anxiety v rational thinking. Sadly, I don’t reward myself for the rational thinking. I dwell on the feeling of anxiety and what lies beneath it.

The logistics are harder this time too. I have managed to arrange transport but it seems so unfair to ask a friend to act as taxi driver when Dennis and I have been sitting in a hospital and cannot swear we remain COVID-free. I’ve arranged one lift there and another lift home and, to my treasured taxi drivers, THANK YOU because it means I can zone out on lorazepam, squirrelled away since chemo for such a time as I might be expected to lie motionless in a metal tube with clanging machines which make it impossible to tune into distracting music. Hmm, maybe living next to a building site will have inured me. It doesn’t matter; I’ll be in Lalaland, singing quietly in my head while I lie motionless and fully compliant.

Then it’s a wait till next Friday for the results, followed by more blood tests (good luck there) and then my mini-chemo on the Monday, with the benefit, again, of my mini-hoard of sedatives :). This is followed by a two-week break and then D the Physio and back to the eye clinic. I hope that will be that for another 5 months before we start again but I suspect that, even if my results are good, Dr U will want  to keep a closer eye on me. That’s good of course but I’m beginning to think I should rename my blog “IT’S ONLY A WAY OF LIFE”.

SO...