Post 214: Twenty Minutes of Hell.
All day today, from the frosty white morning to the cold breeze of dusk, I stayed in bed. I didn’t go downstairs once. I only went to the loo — which is in the next room.
The foreman told me to rest after all the garden work I’ve done these past three mornings, so I happily obeyed. Boy, did I need it.
My Darling came into the recovery room to ask if I wanted breakfast — I didn’t — and she reminded me that a Matron would be calling soon about her time off and when she’ll return to work. I rolled over and fell straight back asleep.
Later, a small hairy visitor arrived: Mr Vicious. He made things awkward by settling himself in the only positions that weren’t comfortable for me. But we were bed partners for quite a while, several times during the day.
I had another visit from my Darling later, bringing the last of the lemon rice pudding. My word, that really is a good pud.
It’s here, that I need to restate my thanks and love for her. A day like today makes me realise just how much she does, and how often she does it alone. It’s not just the food or the housework — it’s everything, because I’m doing so little. Yes, I’m a lazy bugger. Yes, I’m exhausted and need the rest, but when I completely crash out, I put even more pressure on her than she already has dealing with me and this cancer.
Even then, she popped in to check on me and told me she was having a rest day too. I don’t know how she can rest when she has to do so much. Thank you, from the whole of my heart my Darling. Your smile is the only tonic I need.
And after the days where I tire you out, where I bark this and that at you like an idiot… you don’t deserve it. But your smile is everything.
How are you able to still care for me?
How do all the home carers put up with their patients?
———
We had a roast, and I had the longest parsnips I’ve ever seen — edge to edge across the plate. A real whopper. I gobbled it down and felt so full I nearly refused the chocolate fudge cake and custard. Nearly. It would have been rude not to, wouldn’t it?
Afterwards I sat upright in bed for a bit, then drifted off again.
I’m like a baby these days — sleeping constantly. Whether it’s the cancer or leftover chemo, I’m not myself. My eyes “shut for lunch” repeatedly, and it’s become a running joke for my Darling, who keeps having to rewind whatever we’re watching on TV. She giggles, “Are you nodding again?” And of course, I nod.
My grand plan to go out once or twice a week hasn’t flown the nest yet. It’s not a bad idea; we both want it. It’s just… I’m tired, she’s tired, and we never think of it early enough to make it happen. It’ll come, when we’re ready.
At one point today, I slept through my alarm and missed my pills — even though they were right in front of me. But I didn’t need the alarm anyway; the pain announced itself. The lower back pain returned with a vengeance, a 9/10, and I couldn’t believe it. I thought we’d dealt with it weeks ago. I couldn’t face the idea of even more pills.
I went straight from rational to dramatic — doing what I’m best at — thinking “the end is nigh” and mentally cancelling all plans for the next few days. Then I checked the time. Oh. I’d simply slept too long and the meds had worn off, so the pain was front and centre, furious.
A while after taking the pills, calm returned. After the 20 minutes of pain Mr U returned.
All that from missing a dose. It shows just how reliant I am — and how careful I have to be.
We live and learn.
Good night.
PS
I now have a phone call with a cardiologist on Friday. Probably about the oedema. I’ll find out more then.
KR,
Mr U.
