Post 184: I Feel Free at Last…
A lucky break is all I need
The rest is fully guaranteed
I can do more than I thought
Gone are harmful words like distraught
———
Round two of the cake making today was a joy, and being two hours in preparation was me at my level best.
I kind of needed this excuse — to line the cake tins and grate the citrus fruits myself — a little creativity and assistance to my Darling. I know I’ve been draining her reserves these last few months and need to give something back — balance the books a little, so to speak.
Back when we had no money and small kids, Christmas was always charmed. It was as magical as we could make it for the children, but also for us. We were always invested in the Big Man. Our year-long struggles were off-limits for a few days when the spirit of the season replaced the daily grind.
For me, Dickens created the world around me — not because I became a literary mastermind (far from it), but because I watched the 1951 Alistair Sim version of Scrooge until I knew every word and deed.
What I’m saying is that I’ve always been invested. And after a few hours of what feels like pay-back, I’m now strong enough to look ahead — all the way to Christmas lunch and the fun we’ll have with the boys, if I get into gear and do something about it.
I’m ready to be Mr U again. Because I want to.
The last job of the morning was to load and wrap up yesterday’s brace of cakes. They’d cooled completely overnight, and this is my favourite moment with newly born cakes — to spill the brandy over top and bottom in turn, the beautiful smells complementing the cakes and captivating me. The alchemy happens over the next two months, where maturity turns something ordinary into something special.
It’s a rite of passage for me as I head towards the big day.
I’ll find the storage tins later, but for now the foil and clingfilm will do their job.
Satisfied that my work was done, I celebrated with another bowl of CNC (cornflakes) and took the last steroid.
One of my Darling’s best friends was dropping in at midday on her way back from an emergency MOT on her car. It had run out last week, but all was sorted now. So while my Darling was distracted with her bestie, Ms M, I could sneak out to the back garden again and “do half an hour’s weeding” without scrutiny.
I was excited to be tasked again with a little job, and when the time came the plan worked seamlessly — although the Japanese hand saw wasn’t strictly on my initial list of tools for the job.
The task was to cut back the climbing roses and weeds along the fence line and to tame the pyracantha down to size. It was the latter that needed the saw. The “green” wheelie-bin was my limit if I didn’t last the half-hour, but soon I was well past an hour, filling it with shockingly spiky prunings.
I took my boots off and returned inside after a very satisfying workout, but knowing I needed a break, something to eat, and a bit of social interaction with the two girls, still avidly nattering and catching up.
My Darling had a spicy lentil soup warming for me, and I made a sandwich and added some fruit beside it for lunch with the ladies.
I soon retired to the TV lounge and put my legs up. But an email caught my eye.
“Onco-secs”?
That might be interesting, I thought — and opened it. And boy, what a cracker it was.
After two weeks of silence from my team (due to forces beyond my control), Nurse T had picked up the slack. Today, as promised, she’d checked yesterdays blood-test results and translated them into layman’s terms for me, a little like this:
“I am very pleased to tell you that your PSA is now 257, and your ALP (the indicator for bone mets) is also coming down — from 258 to 154. Your Hb is coming up now, at 95.”
I was speechless.
PSA down 85 whoop! whoop!
I couldn’t be more relieved — buoyed by this interim data that proves I’m getting better.
I got up and headed back into the kitchen, broke into the girls’ conversation, and told them the fabulous news. Big smiles all around, and any tiredness from gardening was long gone — chased away by a reinvigorated Mr U.
In fact, it’s then I remembered that I needed to pick up a prescription in town, and rather than accept a lift from Ms M (who was going there for her nails), I insisted on walking on my own — more exercise for my recovering fitness.
I was in my element, even if I did feel a little jaded on the uphill paths to town. I strode out with vigour and hope.
The added bonus of being in town was a bit of man-shopping: a bag of fruit and nuts, some chocolate, toothpaste, loo rolls, and washing-up liquid.
This is where I might have overdone it.
Although I have no pain to speak of, I do have a possible fractured rib that won’t heal. Honestly, I know it’s a break — and the sharp pains are getting worse when I twist, pull, lift, or move in a way that makes the edges grind. That said, it’s not every day, and I’ve been aware of it for a long while. Most obviously, there’s nothing I — or anyone — can do, except rest it.
Oops. (Rest it?)
The bag of shopping wasn’t too heavy, but I guess it was a bit silly, considering the rib. I got home, immediately gave my Darling a big hug in the house full of lovely baking smells, and headed upstairs for a rest on my bed rather than watching MAFS UK on a chair I couldn’t really relax in. (Maried At First Sight).
I was still euphoric. I was learning how to be me again. I was tired, and the rib was now a bit of a nuisance — but I was glad I’d done the garden and another solo walk of 2.6 miles or more.
Yes, I’m stupid about the rib. I just want to ignore it. It won’t go away, so I’ll live with it. It’s only a rib. Perhaps it’s a spare one.
Big Sis’s daily texts after reading “the blog” are always a treat, and today’s was no exception. She loved the thought of the cake making and the wondrous smells around it. Oh, how her constant contact helps me.
Talking of contact — my works manager emailed to ask if I’d be up for a social at the local ten-pin lanes with the boys from work. I immediately replied accepting the invitation but declining the actual bowling for a purely social visit. It’s nice that they thought of me, considering I’ve been off work 6 months since April. I’m feeling included again — and I do want to get back to some amount of work soon, especially now my bloods are looking favourable. I shall await the powwow next month.
I’m starting to feel free.
I’m learning to be me again.
I don’t want to rub your noses in the recent success — which is still a long way from perfect — but I’m just happy today, and for good reason.
I hope your day can be as happy.
Tomorrow we’re off to our youngest and his fiancée’s for a walk on the beach, some dinner, and to see the amazing new windows finishing the outside of their home renovation.
See you later.
