Post 14: Sick-note
Vital statistics:
Temp: 36.3 on first check 
BP: 127/82/56
Weight: increased slightly
Hair: 
stopped worrying
Anything else? It’s raining at last 
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The lads are back at work today, and I start my sick leave officially.
This afternoon I will miss not being there on the late shift, but in my current condition I’d best stay away. I’m meaning to stay well and get back there when I can — to be doing normal things. Things I’m trained to do. Things I’ve done since I was an innocent sixteen-year-old starting out in the big bad world, 44 long years ago.
I’ve been very lucky to have had a challenging but interesting career and met some amazing people along the way. I was lucky.
This morning, after the usual self imposed health checks, I received a text from a work colleague — a genuinely interested greeting, which is what made my mind slip to the lads at work and the work we do.
I don’t feel as dislocated as I did last time I had time off. This time I’m not at home shrinking from how work made me feel — this time, I’m unable to work.
This time, work could harm me.
I’m safe at home, for now.
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Now that Titus has crept off (by way of the doubled powders), I have felt more inclined to eat.
I’m not saying I’m back to normal — eating a whole packet of biscuits in one sitting would be normal — but I am beginning to feel loads more comfortable.
I ate all the little orange chocolate eggs which I’d been only able to look at for days. I think My Darling had bought them for our kid, but he’s not here till this afternoon and has missed his chance to help me now. 
Ha ha.
As My Darling and I had a grand lie-in this morning, she got up mainly with the intention of making me a hot breaky — more to raise my lowish body temperature, but also as very healthy nourishment.
She went downstairs making cooking noises, and I stayed upstairs online with Anima (which sorted my sick note perfectly — tout suite).
I later hear the stairs creaking, and in comes scrambled eggs on toast with beans on the side and a glass of un-refreshing and unappetising Laxido.
How lucky am I to be served such a treat? Except the crappy drink 
It’s not that I’m bed-bound — oh no — it’s just my general laziness.
I didn’t ask for breakfast in bed, but I love it. And I think My Darling loves treating me too. She’s a star. 
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Long, long ago, when I was young enough to want a girlfriend but too polite to ask (for polite, read scared), she and I met unexpectedly, fell in love immediately, and became a couple that stuck completely.
Within that first week of meeting, we were engaged.
Three years later, we married. She gave us two beautiful boys. And now we are in our coral or jade celebration year.
It’s a fairytale, and no mistake.
How I’m always grateful I met My Darling doesn’t always show, but there’s nobody I’d rather be with — any-when, anywhere.
But lately, her poor little face has shown the strain with what we are going through.
I wish I could help to ease her pain.
As I’ve said before, it’s easy for me to stand in the middle of this prostate storm and not be too affected by it, but she’s flying around in the fast winds, unable to stand.
I can hold her hand and cuddle her real tight and tell her I’m okay — I should do more.
She just walked into the bedroom after her shower to collect my now-empty breakfast tray, and with her comes Opium — the fragrance she’s always loved but rarely used in recent years.
It reminds me of happy days going out with her from long ago.
Just a whiff of a perfume can bring back so many memories. 
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This afternoon, I popped upstairs after talking to our son (socially distanced, of course — My Darling insisted he be outside while she and I were inside the house) and I jumped into bed; upon which I felt drained and cold.
I had a dressing gown on — not my best look, I’ll admit — but I snuggled up and lay there. It was like someone had removed my batteries.
I’m not aware of this happening before, and it worries me that perhaps I’m not taking this Carboplatin as seriously as I should.
As seriously as My Darling.
I haven’t done a lot today so there’s no reason why I’m so tired all of a sudden; I’ll review this new tiredness factor later.
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The lads are at work now, and I’ve sent a text to wish them well.
I’m glad I’m not there right now. I know I’ve got some treatments and recovery to do before I can return, so I’ll just have to do as I’m told and get back when I can.
The jitters in my tummy have mostly gone — it must have been the unresolved holiday to Florence (we can’t now go on) that we’re giving away.
Our friends have started the process to change the names over to theirs, and I couldn’t be happier about it.
Although when we booked it six months ago, we were very particular about every detail just being right for us — it is funny how I now feel able to give it away so easily. I’d never have thought it possible.
It highlights how serious we are in doing everything possible to get the best outcome with this treatment.
Surely that’s obvious?
Isn’t that how everyone is?
I suppose I t would be nice to delay the start of treatment and go to Italy, but somehow it’s not more appealing than seeing my PSA lower to reasonable levels and to have a period of calm away from the oncologist.
We live in hope.
Now in the second week of the Tricycle, and all is good.
Tinnitus, tiredness — but no Titus. 
