Post 177: Why am I so tired?
I know I’m nearly normal — I try my best each day,
But something happened overnight and took it all away.
———
With the financial situation in our lives dealt with for a while, it was nice to just think about today as a going-out day without any cares.
An hour’s drive up the county was our destination — to visit a family of friends who, over the years, have been the most welcoming and honest kind of people we’ve ever met. We’ve never been in each other’s pockets in all our time together, but the connection between us has made unshatterable links.
To pop up today and while away an afternoon would be just what I needed to help me get over the disappointment of missing our godson’s (& their son) wedding in Florence and the big 60th of my great friend, his dad — two events we missed due to the bloody chemo.
But for some reason, I’m not feeling well-rested or ready for anything but the scrap heap.
I really don’t know what’s going on today.
My appetite has been great lately as I’ve mentioned, and I’ve already started the day with one-and-a-half biscuit Weetabix, in a bowl of milk and honey. Mr Vicious ate with me, and he looks like he’s got too much energy — maybe he’s stolen mine. My shoulders and top half feel like they’re calling out for more, as I sit myself down to laze in front of the TV in the lounge. I’m bewildered by the feeling — the tingling, or jangling. It’s like I’ve been on a run or out in the garden for hours, and my weary muscles are crying out for more fuel.
But I’m getting this a lot lately, and I think it must be part and parcel of the new me.
I don’t want to jeopardise the visit today, so I’ll deal with it and not tell my Darling just now. She’s just touched down beside me, doing up the laces on her trainers so she can pick up the prescriptions we both need to keep the old bones moving. Sadly, it seems every week there’s something new to collect and store beside my bed in the shape of a pill. Gone are the days of laughing at other people’s dosette boxes and incessant medical care — that’s my life now.
A peck on the lips and a little hug are all that’s needed, and she’s off on her way. At least she looks well today — none of the furrowed brow or headache — and that relieves my mind. But it’s back to the kitchen for me, to get more calories in and force my muscles to soak up some energy.
While I’m waiting for the toaster to eject my crumpets, I’m poking around for a topping. I find some long-forgotten heart-shaped Marmite containers — you know the ones you get in B&Bs? That’ll do nicely.
I’m still waiting for the feeling of weakness to go when my Darling gets back from town.
I feel so tired now that I call to her as she passes and say, “Can I have a sleep for a while? I just need forty winks.”
She calls back, “Yep,” and I head upstairs to bed.
I really want to be full of beans for our trip out — I’ll be okay after a nap.
After a couple of hours, it’s a cheesy smell that wakes me, as my poor Darling squeezes onto my medical single bed and gives me a big cuddle — and that’s when I know something’s happened.
I’m a bit dozy and still feel weak. Damn! But what’s made the furrows return on her face?
“I got your pills — mine are ready tomorrow,” she starts, then says she was in town when she got a call (and text) from the bank.
“There was fraudulent activity on my account — they’d automatically spotted and stopped it this morning. They’re sending me a new card and protecting my money. It’s all done and dusted — but I couldn’t tell you; you’d only worry.”
Holding her tightly beside me on this single bed, my mind was a mix of fury and pride.
After all, the one thing I want is for her to be able to stand on her own two feet — both physically and mentally — and this calm, capable attitude toward the morning’s banking problem was a huge step for her. Perfectly handled, all on her own. I’m conflicted — but so proud. She’s grown so much lately, and I’m delighted she was able and willing to deal with it all herself.
“Dinner’s on the table in ten minutes — mushroom stroganoff, is that okay?” she says, as she rolls off the bed and disappears downstairs.
———
We were a bit late to our friends, but I kept them advised as time went on. When we finally arrived to their welcoming hugs and big smiles, we were truly content.
My weakness and tingles were replaced by the strength of their friendship, and we sat catching up all afternoon, perched in tall comfy chairs around their breakfast bar. For hours we talked and laughed. Not only was my back not an issue — I felt normal inside.
What was all that shaking this morning? I’m a different person this afternoon.
We said our goodbyes and drove home in a glow of true happiness and love after such a wonderful catch-up.
Water under the bridge — that’s what this year has been. Let’s hope for better next year.
Seeing them at Christmas is a tradition we keep, always the most relaxing day of the holiday. We’ll see them again soon.
What a day.
My Darling is growing beside me — I love the thought of that.
⸻
PS
Good luck to everyone doing the Prostate Cancer Park Run on Sunday.
May the weather be kind, and may your feet carry you to your goals while raising those funds to help us all.
Love to everyone making this huge effort — especially young Chloe, who’s running the half marathon with me in mind.
How I love your true spirit and thoughtfulness. xx
PPS
Perhaps I’ll get contacted by my bedraggled cancer team tomorrow. I promised to be patient but after a week and a half since the poor blood tests I’m longing for answers. Is that why I’m so tired sometimes, me thinks… my red bloods are not so good?
