Post 130: Food, pain and more food.
Our travels through this world can be very tiresome sometimes.
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Fourth day after chemo and the steroids are gone, and the pains are back down both flanks.
I stayed in bed all day, not because I was ill but because I was tired. The pulsing pains on each side of my ribs were evident early on, but by the end of the day, they were unbearable.
Pain creeps up on you, and I try to ignore it until I need help. I know that’s not the way to keep it down—it’s better to keep upping the meds as you go, or else you get a whiplash effect and a delay in comfort.
I won’t ever learn.
A faken-and-egg toastie arrived at my bedside for breakfast with my Darling’s smile, but she had a mission today with the laundry so didn’t stay long. The looming trip to Ireland was giving us all sorts of challenges this week, but as yet nothing’s gone awry.
I was left chewing on the food while the autumnal sounds of the birds filled the air beyond the drawn curtains. Yep, I’m a lazy lazy guy.
There’s a sombre downward whistle the starlings are whispering, telling me summer’s nearly gone, and the slight chill in the mornings will be a common attribute to my paddings to and fro the bathroom within the protectiveness of our four strong walls.
This is the best time for an amateur fungi friend to start smelling the air for the unmistakable signs of the fruits I love so much.
If you haven’t any interest in those creatures (mostly of the ground) I won’t bore you with details, but to me they are an exciting and mostly unexplored part of our planet and could, one day, be a large helpful part of healthcare. So little is known about the abilities of this kingdom, but research is ongoing to realise their potential for many modern problems, not just medicine.
But lying in bed, I can only dream of the smells, sizes and shapes of the up-and-coming attractions.
I’ll just stay here, take my pills, and ignore the call to roam in the leaf litter and damp grass. Not today will I be nose-to-the-ground like a truffle hound. Maybe next week.
First I’ve got to move my bowels.
Yes, yet again, I’ve switched from diarrhoea to constipation. Day two of quiet. Another act of vengeance by my body against my body. It’s like the pin’s been taken out of my sadistic-tendencies hand grenade, and my body wants to be in turmoil.
It’s not fair to be plagued with so many problems at once, but it seems they’re not all side effects or health issues I’m expecting—I think the body jumps on the bandwagon and makes things worse just because it can.
I’m starting to hate my body’s desire to humiliate me and my Darling, and make us turn into freaks that are rarely seen out because of some excuse or another about my health.
After three years and countless good months, it seems I’m left with the crappy end of this pathway. The path of little hope.
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A lunch sandwich and crisps lifted my spirits for a bit, but not for long enough.
The TV and my tired eyes were not paired up, and consequently I had some extended mini-breaks of total shutdown as the chemo controlled my sleepiness.
If only the rest was doing me any good.
It’s not.
By the evening I’d called for my Darling Nurse to visit me with an extra dose of oral morphine to quell the pulsating ribs and settle me down to an early night—which she did. I was scolded by my nurse for not asking sooner, obviously, but there was only care for me in her anger.
There was a blip in the day. A little one, where a relative had called my Darling to check she was ok after finding out about brother Kev’s passing, and accidentally let it slip that I’m not going to the funeral because I’m being looked after at home. This led to the questions surrounding my health which they hadn’t been told about yet.
I smoothed it over with a few texts, as I couldn’t bring myself to talk on the phone, and the rest of the evening went back to being quiet, boring and endless.
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On the Macmillan forum I’ve been busy with a few replies I’ve made to questions or worries from new and old, which helps me feel a little better about myself.
The odd sentence I write helps me express the feelings I have for others in the same boat as me and, more often than not, helps the other-halves understand the importance of communication in all their daily struggles.
I’m the biggest hypocrite, but I do try and help.
I’m not perfect.
I’m not very happy.
I’m trying my best.
I’m learning every day.
I’m still on the bus.
I ache, but I won’t ache forever.
I’ve had a dreary Monday, but I dream of more pleasant days.
