Post 266: Thoughts of love and money.
The feelings I have for my Darling are like nothing else in my world.
During the counselling this week was two interesting things; the first one was that I didn’t cry, incredibly.
The other needs more thought…
Before I say anymore I should say that today I was able to stay in bed all day, so I did.
Nothing stopped me. I had no calls and I had nothing to worry about.
My Darling was able to leave me a while to go to town to meet up with her pals.
I still feel that it’s not an automatic thing she is relaxed about even though I’m over my chair backflips.
My dancing finger on my right hand is unable to dance and annoy me so much since my shoulder aches have increased overcoming the twitching.
In fact if the Oramorph worked on my right shoulder, and now arm, I would be happy to oblige the bottle. But it doesn’t do anything for it and I’ll be glad the new GP is going to have a look at it soon enough — the shoulder that is.
The worry I have now is that the SR1 (Special Rules 1) newly on my health record, might swerve any thought the Dr had of treatment, into the wilds of outer space, that only Captain Kirk will ever have a chance to find.
If I’m right that will mean that soon I’ll have to start using my left hand for writing and find a stand instead of holding it (my phone) in my achy-breaky arm.
My shoulder’s a nightmare. Way worse than my cancer pains. Something I’m starting to really struggle with.
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The SR1 status is harsh but fruitful. I have my head screwed onto the facts of the situation. I get it.
But it has its benefits as well as its downs and mind-twists.
At the moment I’m looking on the bright side and thinking only about the fact that there’ll be less form filling for me to do, and there’ll be a return to a little bit of money coming in.
The SSP stopped in November and since then there’s been nothing, not even a penny, to show in my account.
Yes, I’m living off of the savings we’ve got from a lifetime of scrimping.
Yes, the same as you.
I’m pissed at the fact that my state pension will not be any use to me after 45 years of working hard for my retirement. A retirement I sadly will not see. Even the best prognosis is nowhere near the six years I have remaining to claim the pension.
A bit of a shame, yes.
But the money, £92.05 a week I am getting I’m grateful for. I look upon it like I’m getting some of my pension early.
I’m happy. It’s better than nothing as they say.
Enough of all that high finance and all that, and back to the thorny question I kept being asked at counselling.
I was too dumb to notice why the question about my sons was being repeated again and again, until it was explained and I then became stuck.
“You always use the word love when you talk about your Darling, so why don’t you say love when you’re talking about your sons” I was finally told.
Well I’ve had a couple of days to think about it and I’m still struggling to find an answer that makes sense.
Gender expectations, generational habits, learned emotional restraint are the book answers to this question, other than the sons are not in a romantic relationship with me, which my Darling certainly is.
So I can see that learned emotional restraint is a properly accurate statement leading me to understand myself a little bit more.
My Dad had that in abundance, and with him being a baby of 1942, and his dad being invalided out of WW1, so the pattern of not asking and not saying was the way Grandad taught Dad and therefore taught me. But that’s a bit of a cop-out and blaming my forebears for my verbal misdemeanours is not right.
I will need to work on this, it’s not just a Dads Dad thing. It’s me. #Me too.
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My weight is stable at 11.5 stone which is ok.
My left rib is the same — not as good as it was after radiation but not clicking and giving me much pain.
My tiredness is really bad. I have no energy at all. It’s frustrating lazing about but it’s all I can do sometimes.
I have a visitor tomorrow sometime in the pm. Byron and our youngest are in for a chat and a sniff. Which should be fun.
Till tomorrow good night.
I Love you all too…
