I suppose I was tempting fate the other day, talking about how well I was doing. Sure enough, yesterday I felt really bad - super-tired, with a very poorly tummy; almost certainly not cancer-related (I'm just going to have to be a lot more careful about what I eat), but having cancer makes everything just that extra bit worse.
Understatement of the year.
Judy's well-meaning suggestion of an omelette from the Chinese, as she and the Gentleman Caller were getting take-out, turned out to be disastrous. Let us draw a veil over the outcome and just say that by the end of the evening my innards resembled the eruption of Vesuvius. Only going in the opposite direction, obviously.
("Dear Hilary: if that's your idea of drawing a veil, we'd hate to see you be graphic. - Everyone.")
Now, everything seems worse at night. So: gippy tummy + burning reflux in my throat + the rasping noise my chest makes when I lie down to sleep = MAJOR FREAK-OUT. Poor Judy. That's the second one of those she's had to deal with within two weeks.
I had a largely sleepless and very panicky night, but did eventually manage to get off to sleep and woke up feeling somewhat better. Not completely better, though: the stomach is still not happy, and the burning in the throat has carried on all day. My chest burns, too, when I try to drink anything hot, or even slightly warm. Which reminds me, I looked up acid reflux, and it tells me that both coffee and peppermint can cause it. What the hell am I supposed to drink, then?!
I was still feeling super-anxious, so I decided to try and burn it off by getting off my bum and doing something. So I gave the house a desultory vacuum and, as I needed to mail a package anyway, I went for a walk round the block. I decided to call in at the surgery, more or less on a whim, and, much to my surprise, they managed to fix me up with an appointment this afternoon. Which meant a second walk round the block an hour or so later, but I don't imagine that did me any harm, rather the opposite.
My own GP is away on holiday, and I got Dr Quartley instead. It may be as well that Dr Quartley isn't my GP, as he is really smoking hot, in a super-British Bear Grylls/Ben Fogle sort of way: you can imagine him in cricket whites, or spying for the Great Game. But I digress. He wasn't able to be much practical help - that's going to be down to the hospital, god help us - but he pointed out that being short of breath is pretty much bound to lead to panic attacks sooner or later. He suggested I go back on the anti-depressants I was taking before, as they also work for anxiety. Ever-cautious, I've taken half of one this evening. He's also sent me for a blood test tomorrow morning (honestly, it's a wonder I have any blood left). Even if he wasn't much actual help, it was good to be able to talk over my concerns - really, I just needed some hand-holding. And, as I said, he's very easy on the eye, so that can't hurt.
Both the visitors I was meant to have this week have cancelled - well, I cancelled the one yesterday because of being ill, and the other one had an interview today, which is fair enough. I hope they reschedule, though, otherwise I think I shall have to send round a memo: IT'S NOT BLOODY CATCHING, PEOPLE! But my wonderful brother phoned tonight - he'd seen, or rather Michelle had seen on Twitter that I was in a bad way - and that was lovely.
Even if he did phone in the middle of Lewis. God help me, I have turned into my mother: not only am I wearing her cardigan (it's very comfortable, if completely shapeless), but my idea of a good evening is now two rounds of Eggheads followed by an episode of Lewis. How did it come to this?!
One other thing I did today was dip my toe, rather tentatively, into the Macmillan chatroom. Macmillan people: I'm new on the site, and still getting used to it - and I don't find it particularly user-friendly. If I miss your comments, or reply in completely the wrong place, please bear with me!
Tomorrow, all being well and as Judy is 'working from home', we are going to make an Expotition to the Maggie's Centre at the Churchill and see what, if anything, they have to offer. Stay tuned for more thrilling adventures, gastric shenanigans, and screaming neurotic meltdowns!
