It’s the following Thursday and just silence. That’s fine till I realise there’s an active cancer somewhere and another week has gone by. I still have my appointment on Wednesday (the one I thought was daft - sorry, secretary) but I also have an appointment with Nuclear Medicine at the same time. Ffs, they are even on the same floor in the same building - can’t they check my records so there’s no overlap?
It’s for a bone scan, the one Marilyn and Clive took me too January 2019 when I was a wraith. The morning appointment is to have the radioactive isotope injected, the afternoon is the scan. I’m wondering if I could manage it all without asking for a lift. Hmmm. But of course, something has got to be changed - I can’t be signing away my ‘life’ to a treatment plan that needs explaining and questions asked AND be elsewhere at the same time.
I have had a huge clear out and have countless spare coat hangers as I’ve made hard and heartless decisions. One lot for the charity shop. A few cashmere and other specials put aside for a friend in case she would like them. A bundle of ‘young’ (ok, too young) tops set aside for Georgia to pick from, Then there’s my Rock Memorabilia - my Roxy Music/Bryan Ferry sweatshirts and tops, my Anxiety Girl top, the things I will keep even if I grow to size 26 because I love them. The rest are now sorted by colour in the wardrobes, apart from a boxful of I May Lose Weight Again tops and Maybe I Could Sell These For Charity tops, some of which are still tagged, I’m embarrassed to admit, and some of which are pure vintage according to the current definition (20thC etc). My life and my money all there in a jumbled mess.
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| vintage Coast |
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| Vintage Mexx |
I tried on EVERYTHING. I assessed each garment against bigger boobs (rather matronly), a belly, thicker arms and a bigger bum. How thin I was before anastrozole! Very little looked good, given the belly, and stripes are out as, I’m surprised to learn, clothes move with your boobs. When one remains stubbornly motionless, apart from a spiteful and surreptitious slide to the right, stripes and clingy fabrics are out. Whereas before I wore clothes to disguise prominent hipbones and invisible bum, now I must learn the tricks of the weightier woman. OK, normal woman. Then I’ll be back wearing tiny clothes after chemo!
Then disaster struck. I’ve said before that there seems to be a time-lapse between my body moving in a certain direction and my brain then allowing it to happen. Usually I’ll tread on my own foot or walk into a wall but this time I had an extraordinary experience - like time-lapse film. I walked towards the bedside table, past the charity shop pile, and aimed for the space on the bed next to the Precious Pile (a big one). I stepped forward and felt myself wobble and knew I was about to fall so I slowed it all down, put my mug of tea down safely, then turned so I could fall face down on the bed. I kind of managed that but something hurt so I thought I’d slip to the floor and lever myself up. Nope. The bedside cabinet was sticking out and if I touched it, I’d get a mug of hot tea over my back. And I had a cramp. I stayed for 5 minuted wedged between bed and beside table till I could yell for Dennis.
“What have you done?” Not “Are you ok/injured?” Like I did it on purpose. To be fair, he followed instructions to the letter but rescuing me was not easy. Even once I got my feet firmly placed, it hurt too much for him to grip my hands (thanks to the joint pain) and I had no strength to propel myself upwards. We managed but I pulled a muscle across my ribs so had to lie, stretching it and massaging it to reduce the damage. I have some lovely bruises (all hidden thank god) and I guess I’m a bit shocked. I now understand how my mum must have felt when she started having falls but she was 15 years older than I am. It’s a bit soon. However, repeated referrals to the Frailty Clinic and Neurology have led to nothing. Now I’m thinking about it, spontaneous fractures of the femur are a possible side effect of zoledronate. Thank heavens that didn’t happen. Oh I am just so fed up with not being well.
My reward:
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