Post 12: Better Days Will Come
Vital statistics:
Temp: 35.2 (cool AM) / 36.2 (PM) 
BP: 127/79/56
Weight: feel slightly less full
Hair: awaiting changes 
Anything else? A bit low 
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Counting days, tricycles, and pills has become a way of life. But it’s not just us—the treated—who live by the clock. Even the healthy people carry on with checklists, appointments, errands. Watching cars come and go on this Easter weekend, I wonder: does anyone take time for themselves?
I woke in a pool of sweat—proper bed sweats, the worst I’ve ever had. It’s 5:45am and I’m already feeling selfish. I’m alone but not lonely. I’ve got the TV and my phone.
The laundry can wait until later when My Darling is at work, but I feel a little guilty—she only changed the sheets two days ago. I’m the sweaty culprit, not her. These tiny chores feel massive when you’re housebound. My self-isolation today is mostly mental, and I’ll admit—I’m in a bit of a funk.
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A year ago I attended a funeral and found myself among familiar faces. While I tend to keep my diagnosis relatively quiet, I look the same—hair intact, face unchanged. You wouldn’t know I’m harbouring cancer. Then, an old friend of a friend asked me plainly, “How are you?”
Somehow I wasn’t ready for such a simple heartfelt question. I stuttered. He looked at me with real care and all I could manage was, “I’m not great, sorry.”
Where did that swell of emotion even come from?
I made a swift exit, bumping into someone on the way out—who I thought was My Darling, but wasn’t. It was the man’s daughter. She followed me out, stood beside me in silence while I gathered myself. She has her own cancer journey. We spoke briefly, and though it was very selfish of me to need that moment, her presence meant everything. She got it.
It taught me that sometimes, to make a difference, you have to sometimes ask, once… twice… and wait patiently for the more honest second answer.
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A hand (by Mr U)
Taking a moment, to wipe my eyes
Just for myself or loving goodbyes
A small piece of me dies each time
Another big hill I need to climb
A hand from somewhere out the blue
Steadies my heart just like they knew
Feelings I have but not worked out
Hold me gently so I’m not without
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I’ve told more of my family about this blog now. It’s partly to save the endless well-meaning but repetitive “how are you doing?” messages. I love hearing from them, but sharing this way saves my jaw and my typing finger.
My sister—who’s not exactly a tech wizard—has been reading along. I’m more amazed she found the blog than that she likes it, but either way, I’m chuffed.
I’ve never read a blog myself, nor written anything like this before. It’s just me, letting off steam. And I’m glad to have the outlet.
Sorry if today’s post feels a bit gloomy—but after some food and another episode or two of K-Drama, I’ll bounce back. I always do.
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Symptom check:
Titus is still a nuisance.
Headaches are mild today, barely worth mentioning.
New addition—my hearing has changed. I’ve more tinnitus than usual.
It even overpowered the TV last night. This morning’s silence is only amplifying it. Years in noisy factories plus two musical sons (drums and bagpipes!) probably didn’t help. But I’ve no one to blame but myself; I enabled those hobbies.
Temperature was sub 36 again during the morning, which seems fair—I didn’t feel too hot. There was a tiny headache, but after a coffee and some veggie soup I crept back up over 36. I texted My Darling to share the good news.
She’ll be relieved.
I’m tired but not so tired I need the bed.
I’ve got this nagging feeling in my belly—not Titus for once—but something’s off. Can’t quite place it. Maybe I’ve forgotten something? I’ll remember tomorrow.
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The Tricycle Loop still rolls on, smoothly enough. Tired, yes—but Carboplatin’s not been the monster I feared.
Better days will come, and I’ve had worse.
My Darling has 4 days off after today so I’ll have company and distractions for the oncoming week 
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