Post 156: Alternative reality causes confusion.
Waking up in the darkness with a warm hand on my lower back suggests my Darling is already aware of my pains — so why am I so pained and confused?
———
After a decent day where the bathroom measurements were sketched down in Dan the plumber’s pad, then afterwards the welfare meeting at work seemed to revolve around my own aims and a phased return that will work well for both them and me. So the afternoon was going very well.
While I was stuck in traffic heading back from work (I haven’t said that for a while) I called my Darling and offered a dinner suggestion — a takeaway. Mostly celebratory, but it would save her from the kitchen tonight. Her answer was supportive and immediate and, by the time I’d got home and settled down to a TV drama, the doorbell chimed and a chilli-covered veggie kebab with a side of fries was in my lap — then in my mouth, causing the chaos and blissful irritation of searing hot sauce on my senses and the gradual filling up of my constipated self with all its contradictions and future consequences. Love and hate in a takeaway bag, living up to the wild anticipation of an otherwise dull existence.
———
While my Darling started on her chicken variant of her sauceless kebab she could rest her eyes from the online research for the new bathroom. She was dizzy with the unlimited choices and their costs and designs. Her new bathroom will eventually look fabulous but she already needed a rest from it.
I picked a TV film — “Jack Irish” — which I hoped she’d like and which might soothe her anxiety over the modernisations in her head. In fact she was enthralled in the fast-paced thriller/detective storyline as a backdrop to our tasty takeaway. Lovely-jubbly.
I don’t know why I’m blathering nonsense right now, when I’ve got things on my mind that are more important and need to be addressed.
So: work is good. I get the feeling they want me back on my terms and together we will succeed. 
The bathroom is all in the hands of Dan and my Darling. I want it that way. It’s a test for her to be more independent and learn how to cope with maintenance and home improvements now and after I’m gone.
End of.
So my back pain and tomorrow’s meeting are on my mind and need more attention.
The cancer is what it is: the metastases in my bones are progressing, whereas the chemo seems to be holding some lesions back and others are simply not.
The pains in my back had eased away lately (in the last three weeks) so a more comfortable life helped day to day. The drugs were the reason for the easing, so on the whole it’s a good place I’m in right now.
Long term my bloods are not going to get better by themselves because of my bone marrow dysfunction. So a few units of red blood will be a regular occurrence, I guess.
So what am I so concerned about?
I don’t feel OK.
Why did I get horrendous pain last night out of the blue?
Why has it left this morning without a trace?
What is going on?
My Darling gave me two helpings of oral morphine last night when I asked for it. In point of fact, the last time I needed oral morphine assistance was five nights ago after the Goodwood experience (a just-in-case treatment) but since then I’ve not needed any.
The other odd thing is that lower-back pain is unusual. Most of the pains I need help with are in my chest, ribs and upper back. So why did my lower back act up last night? And, more to the point, where has it gone now?
I’m sorry to use this blog as a notepad today. I’m trying to work out whether I was dreaming the pain or whether the pain was real.
My Darling says it was real, but I’m the only one who can feel it. Her warm hands on my lower back were soothing and necessary for me — but why did I not get a warning before it happened, or at least remember what caused the pain? Perhaps something stupid I did that might have caused it.
Everything was OK before the transfusion, but since those units were drip-fed into my body I have noticed things have subtly changed.
I don’t feel like I put on the adrenaline feelings yesterday or the pain last night. My skin on my legs is as dry as dry can be and I’m now moisturising after a quick shower leaves me shedding my skin like a snake. I’ve been super tired after relatively good night-time sleep and with my eyes half-open all the time it feels like I’ve been tranquillised and left with a half-life existence.
Now I’ve written the symptoms down it all seems absurd.
———
I’m feeling OK, most days.
I don’t get much pain.
The drugs are settled.
The chemo is one cycle away from completion.
The PSA is on a downward trend.
Red blood cells had a boost last week.
The only conclusion I can draw from this list is that I’m mid-treatment and there’s nothing alarming to worry about.
More tests will show how things are in a couple of months’ time, which is already being talked about. In fact I will ask tomorrow — if I don’t get told anyway.
Maybe this is all too much for me and the six months I’ve been on chemo have worn me out.
I am tired and confused.
The ground around me moves this way and that and it’s hard to keep up with how well I’m doing or even where I’m at.
This is how it is and this is the way it will stay. I’ve got to get used to the wicked confusion.
I want to be well and away from the clinic seats.
I’ll take my A-game tomorrow and see if I can get away with being what I always was…
Mr Unremarkable.
Mr U - Over and out.
