Well: the Week of Nothing Much in Particular started out humdrum as expected - it rained pretty much all week, which didn't help improve the mood. There was some distraction in the form of a clinic visit on Tuesday to get my dressing changed and bloods taken, which ended up with me and the nurse talking about poo (I don't know why that always happens); and on Friday my brother came up, hurrah, hurrah. Mind you, I was even a bit grumpy about that, because I'd hoped we might go out for a drive in his shiny yellow sports car and we couldn't because of the rain - oh, lord, who said rain? I was out in the garden deadheading roses not five minutes ago, and now it's pouring - but it's always lovely to see him.
And then on Saturday we were woken up by the phone, which turned out to be lovely friend Penny, she of the PICC line cover knitting, calling to tell us that her husband Robin had collapsed and died of a heart attack.
So I should quit whining. I don't suppose I will, I whine therefore I am, or possible vice versa, but ... well. Shit.
Judy will probably be going up there the week after next, to help where she can. Because of the cats we can't both be away from the house at the same time, so I doubt I'll get to the funeral, but I would if I could.
(The Saturday post brought a cheque for £8.63 from my mother's estate. I will try not to spend it all at once.)
It seems heartless to admit that we went out on Saturday evening, for an Indian meal that one of my ex-YBP girlies had organised, and that we had a yummy meal and a very nice (if noisy) time, but we did just that. I didn't much feel like it to begin with, but it was wonderful to see so many of my friends; possibly it was a good thing. And, practically speaking, it wouldn't have done anyone any good if we'd stayed at home.
This coming week: consultant on Monday - the journey, on this occasion, made more interesting by the Olympic torch coming through Bicester and on to Oxford that day - and chemo on Tuesday. In view of, well, everything, I don't know if there's any point in looking further ahead than that.
The state of me: not too bad. Much better than I have been - I've been reading some of my old blogs and, oh, dear! Still very tired and breathless, and sleeping probably more than half the day; the Crab is quite bitey, and I suspect that I'm building up bloody ascites again and will need draining - again - soon. I hope we can leave it for a bit, though. Sufficient unto the day, and all that.
