Post 345: This month is the longest.
When will this month ever end? It seems to be going on forever.
I’m not wishing my life away, but when will April appear?
I’m feeling fine this morning, and the shower is inviting, so I set myself up for a good clean — just as the phone went off. The landline. That will be solar, the hospice, or the oncology nurse.
At least it had the courtesy to ring before, not during, my shower.
I pick up the phone and it’s a lovely nurse from the hospice asking about ongoing pain and pain relief.
“You’ve caught me at a good time,” I said, “because the holiday last week helped me no end.”
I had some exercise, I said, but it was the bed that made all the difference.
I told her about the comfort I had waking up in the holiday home’s profiling bed, leading to happy days, every day.
The real test for comfort and pain is the amount of extra morphine I’m having to hold the pain back — which is very little. One or two a day.
“Oh,” she replied, “that is good. I’ll ring back in a couple of weeks. Bye.”
And with that surprise call dealt with, I’m off to have a shower.
I suppose a shower is also a good gauge of how strong I’m feeling — strong enough to clean myself without any fear of falling. I’m beginning to see how your health is judged on movements and basic hygiene standards.
I mean, she couldn’t see or smell me, but she could hear how well I was in the way I spoke — with clarity and humour too.
It’s the little things that give me a boost each day, so I was boosted and happy to go into the shower.
Please now be silent, phone…
⸻
Without interruption, I cleaned myself, shaved, and got ready for the car polisher. He was due to arrive at quarter to ten, and I was fed and watered by then — so bring it on.
———
The big white van had the sign-writing of the guy I hired, and I went out to greet him. Almost at once I was charmed by this stranger, but giving him the keys to my Darling’s scratched car was a little disconcerting, I can tell you. But I had to, and my Darling, who had followed me out, and I returned to the warmth of the house and left him, out of sight — with our car.
My Darling had a migraine this morning, and because she was unable to keep her eyes open in the bright light, she went to bed. Just like that.
And just like that, I was watching K-dramas while my Darling recovered and a stranger had his cleaning mitts on our car.
It was then I noticed my back was aching where it wasn’t before. Damn it.
I made myself a coffee from one of those tasty decaf bags and went to the medicine cupboard for some morphine — just a boost to get me more comfy while the car was cleaned.
The sup of meds was enough to dull the pain, and later, after a lunch of a Stilton and pickle sandwich and the other fresh cream scone from the fridge, I took even more meds.
Isn’t it funny that you say how well you are to the hospice nurse enquiring about your health, and as soon as you put the phone down, you get the worst pain you’ve felt for a long while?
I think it happened when I strained to open the garage door to provide access to the outside tap and a spare power socket for the polishing man.
Bugger — why am I so brittle? Damn.
———
Six hours after he arrived, he was finished with Big Bro, and because my Darling had just woken up a little better, we went out to inspect the car.
Wow-wee. It looked fabulous. And we said so.
It was great to not see the big scratch, which the man had trouble getting rid of — but it was gone.
After the payment machine was waved under my nose, I paid for his services gladly.
It was very expensive, but very worth it.
The car is so clean.
We were happy.
My Darling and I retired to the house, happy that we (I mostly) can forget about the Dorset lanes and the hedges that we hated so much.
After dinner, I couldn’t keep my eyes open — probably due to the extra drugs — so I went off to bed early-ish.
Another busy day, but a good day. We might have a bus trip to town tomorrow, depending on how we are both feeling.
Good night.
