Post 171: Yes, you can go out to play.
Is the thing in your mind or physical? Can I trust myself to find out?
———
With a healthy respect for “no news”from the oncology team, I distracted myself with the planned outing today to the county town and all its issues regarding steep slopes and a thousand years of history.
The pill alarms went off as usual but I was ready and keen today to be the perfect patient. So I made breakfast again (honey-soaked sloppy Weetabix) and stowed away the steroids. Only three pills a day now, and all’s going well.
Although my digestive situation with the Sena hasn’t urged any response, I’m comfortable enough even with my distended tum.
Although I was up ready for anything, my Darling had shown her face and gone back to bed. Her headaches haven’t gone away and I do worry that the meds are doing nothing to help her. It seems I’m not getting anywhere near altering her mind set about her doctor–patient trust and this particular way of helping her with her banging head. So I was left alone with itchy fingers on the TV remote in the blue-couched lounge, in my special seat — the time just came and went.
The excitement in me today was for the possibility of the day out, but there were hurdles. The first was my daughter-in-law’s finish time at her work-away day this afternoon, and the second was permission from my Darling to go alone to pick her up and on to the county town if (and it’s a big if) I was physically ready.
Luckily, the first problem was struck off as K texted me she’d be ready for pick-up at 3pm after the closing bell. So I sat in my chair half-watching TV, half-preparing to tell my Darling how ready I was — and how K would look after me anyway.
But there was no sign of my Darling coming down the stairs, so I just waited.
I seem to have had the hunger for something else today — food.
Can I stop thinking about food? Why!
As I said, I’d had the sloppy Weetabix earlier but I needed something else. This day out was going to rely on my strength, and strength comes from food, protein, so why not eat some more?
I sneaked out to the fridge and grabbed a couple of boiled eggs that were smelling, you know, like they do. They’ll fill the gap.
So some salad cream was squirted on a plate, the eggs salted on top, then some buttered bread and hey presto — a mid-morning snack.
By midday I’d made my mind up that I was indeed strong enough to go, and with my Darling finally down and feeling a bit better, I convinced her she could have her hair done while K and I explored the byways of the historic town. She was surprised how much I’d eaten already but glad I had. So all was right in the world and by 2:30pm I had started the car up after a long, kindly hug and several kisses from her as I set off.
K had enjoyed her work break and was happy to be looking after me in a slightly motherly way. She always took me and my illness seriously, and we get along well so there was no awkwardness as we headed to town.
She’d said about a check she needed to make at a restaurant in the old part of town. More a visual check than anything else, but I was game. I’d parked halfway up (or down) from the Korean place where we’d planned to eat later, but now this new detour meant I’d have to walk down to the old riverside streets before climbing all the way back up to the castle keep. And it’s really bloody steep.
Still, I’d had my eggs, so come on Mr U, get a grip and go for it.
Off we went. The restaurant K wanted to see turned out to be a Turkish meze house — smells to die for, and a welcome as warm as the bread. I was half-ready to stay and eat right then, but we carried on. So that was ticked off the list.
The sun was slipping past the higgledy-piggledy rooftops, the town was glowing, and the big test loomed ahead: the hill.
But we took it slowly, with little detours into shops (were those pauses on purpose for my sake? Who knows, but they worked). Before I knew it, the hill was behind me.
We even popped into the castle grounds at the very top. Standing under those stone gateways, with close on a thousand years of history pressing down, made my own struggles feel oddly smaller — and, strangely, it made me feel stronger.
Dash it, though. The Korean place was closed when we got there — rubbish bags at the door. “Sorry K,” I said, “where now?”
She didn’t bat an eye. Within minutes we were in a cheerful Italian, ordering pasta, garlic bread, and sipping a homemade lemon cordial. Divine. The chatter flowed, the food disappeared, and the waiter sealed it with a tiramisu (for me) and a lemon dessert (for her). Bliss.
By the time we left, my cunning parking meant only a short downhill stroll to the car. Perfect.
We drove home, still chatting, still laughing.
Later, my Darling came back from the hairdresser, looking beautiful, asking how I felt.
And the answer was simple: I was normal.
Normal, for a change. Just an afternoon out, with company, food, and sunshine in a town I love. Nothing happened.
’Twas a great day.
———
Of course I’ll email the onco-secretaries tomorrow. I will be heard, I will get answers…
PS
After all that food and after both ladies went off to bed, I still had my eyes wide open and a weird case of the munchies.
So yes, you guessed it: first crisps, then a blue Stilton roll, and finally a white chocolate Tim-Tam.
What a day.
