Post 244: An unexpected guest.
We went to bed early after the unexpected visitor left, but as we were tired — and I had to get up early for my old Volvo’s MoT — it was the sensible thing to do.
The car’s being picked up at 7am. Gulp!
I recharged the battery in the afternoon, so if the chap driving it stalls, it should have plenty of welly to get it going again. It’s old enough not to need an MoT, but I prefer to have one for my own peace of mind.
When I changed for bed, I sat on the edge of the mattress and hesitated. My Darling was finishing cleaning her teeth and came in to say goodnight. I mentioned my shoulder pain and hinted at a back rub. She gave me a gentle massage that helped, then grabbed the oramorph, said “open wide,” and gave me a last and first gulp of the day.
What would I do without her?
I slept like a log.
Earlier, I had my first counselling session back at the hospice — first this time round, as I’ve had a block of six sessions before. My head isn’t in such a mess, but after choosing a three-month break I’m a little anxious, with work and other bits still bubbling away.
The time flew by in this first session and ended too quickly, as usual, but I felt better afterwards.
When I returned to the forum area, the tables had been cleared away and a huge choir was in their place, singing carols and Christmas songs. Although it was busy, we found a table, and my Darling queued for food. As we ate, we listened to and applauded a local sensory choir of youngsters of all sorts of disabilities. They were fantastic.
The exuberant faces and the big sound they created were a wonderful antidote to the grey, miserable, wet day outside.
The back pain was still troubling me, and I was glad to get home and rest. Shooting pains came most times I moved — especially getting in and out of the car. It feels like I’m plagued by bad luck and weak muscles, causing aches and pains I really don’t want.
Again today, my Darling and I were meant to get the chocolate sleighs built and Christmas cakes marzipaned. It’s now a week before the big day, and these preparations really need doing.
But then — oh my word — another call from our youngest: could they bring young Byron over for a visit? Of course it was ok. After yesterday’s disappointment, we were more than delighted.
When they arrived, Byron came in like a calm but busy cat inspector. Mr Vicious had already been relocated to the back garden, safely out of harm’s way, so the sighthound had free rein of the house with no interference from our ageing but grumpy host cat.
They stayed for a couple of hours while we chatted and ate a lap dinner of pizza. Byron had a great evening, exploring all the new smells and enjoying two new humans to get used to. He did brilliantly — such a lovely dog.
He probably could have done with a garden run, but it was winter, raining, and blowing a gale — not ideal walking weather, especially in the dark. Still, it was lovely to finally meet him, and just as lovely to see his owners.
See you next week for Christmas Day, bye bye.
Now, my Darling, shall we get the prepping done?
No?
Ok then — TV it is.
Sir Chris Hoy’s on tonight, but I’ll catch up with him on iPlayer later. It’s not like I don’t already know what living with stage four prostate cancer is like.
Big up the stage four-ers.
Good night. Sleep well.
