Post 189: A rainy day of frustration.
As the day passed without much cause for concern I started to reassess my recovery.
How well am I now?
With my Darling looking out for me in every way possible, it’s sometimes hard to get a real picture of my physical health.
One thing’s for sure — my appetite is still amazing. I’m eating anything and everything, which bodes well for the curry this Saturday to celebrate my Darling’s 60th. Seventeen friends having a feast sounds good to me; I’m really looking forward to it.
Other physical signs of recovery are less easy to gauge, but I did get a sense of my step-climbing ability this afternoon when I went from the car park to the shops — up two flights, taken at a very slow pace — and tested my legs, in which I found it a bit of a strain.
I’m still using the stairlift every time I go upstairs at home, which alleviates the pain and suffering of my weak legs.
Last Friday I weighed myself for the first time in a month and got a bit of a surprise — I was 11 stone 11 lbs, which means I’ve lost all the half-stone I put on.
Not to worry.
I have my diet sheets and all the foods and drinks that could best accumulate a bit of weight. I will survive.
With all last week’s walks helping me feel more alive, this week is going to be the opposite. Not only has the rain finally come down out of those shy clouds, but in quite a spill today.
It’s only now I find that I can’t go out even if I want to, due to the weather outside mainly — and that’s been so rare this year. The drought warnings this week come after the last couple of months of hosepipe bans, but still the local reservoir is at 27%.
We really need a month or two of rain to help refill the water table all around the county, though I doubt that’ll happen.
The problem for me now is that I don’t feel like doing anything because I feel so tired. The chemo can’t be blamed, but my tiredness is a real problem.
I sit all day at the TV normally and watch until my eyes are square — and this is where my mental health is suffering too.
My laziness is an issue for all time, but this week it’s bad. I’m wondering what we can do together (my Darling and I) on one hand, but limiting factors diminish my ideas to mush. So I just stay put and while away the day in our cosy lounge.
My rib is the biggest problem right now, and even though my email has been forwarded to my oncologist, Dr S, her only suggestion was to talk to the hospice.
There’s no news about the scans yet, so I suppose there’s nothing more I can do.
This affects my mind more than anything else. The frustration I feel with there being no appointments for the three scans is bewildering — especially when considering the fact that we want to go to Cumbria next week for a week and a half. But I bet that’s when the scans will be arranged, which means our long-awaited break up north will be cut short or cancelled.
With a year of cancellations, I’m not happy at all with the thought of any more. In fact, I’m peed off just thinking about it.
So as I contemplate the next month, all I feel is dread.
I have now got an appointment to see Dr E at the hospice on Thursday this week, to discuss the rib. Yeah!
Above all else, I’ve been trying my best to match my exuberance last week — but it’s just not there.
I feel like an old man with the young me in the driving seat, but this body is restricted and useless.
I’m getting fed up with the limitations and the mind games I have to use to trick any movement.
I say movement, but that’s an over-exaggeration — it’s a shuffle. And because of the rib, my right arm is now totally dominant (I’m right-handed anyway), like it’s the only arm.
It’s not a dream or a nightmare — it’s real life.
It’s now that I need my Darling the most. She’s noticed the change this week. She’s noticed I need her hand to hold sometimes — and other times I want to be alone.
Alone with my Darling is my baseline habit.
I want to go travelling — my dream is to go to Lapland with my Darling and rent a cabin, one of those with massive skyward windows over the double bed, so you can see any aurora that expresses itself to you, if you’re lucky… in a surrounding landscape of snow.
We could take a dog sleigh or skidoo to get around and have beautiful dinners every day while watching the pure white snow glisten away quietly.
Ah, that is my dream. We need dreams.
I’ve got to get to bed so I can go to that wooden cabin under the stars — in that snowy wonderland.
Nighty night.
