Post 37: A Scolding at the scan.
Appointments:
Zoladex (3-monthly) AM
Echocardiogram PM
⸻
The cut flowers in the lounge are looking well past their best — and I’m feeling a bit like that too.
The day actually started well. The HT injection at the GP surgery was a dream: no pain, no blood trails onto the floor. Miraculous. I’m now clear until August — which feels a long way off, but I know it’ll zoom by.
While chatting to my usual Zoladex nurse, I remembered to ask her whether HT ever stops working. I’d seen a forum post that hinted at that, and it left me uneasy.
Without hesitation, she explained:
“Some cancer patients have HT only for the first three years and then stop — resuming it later, if needed. But if you’re on it for life, like you, the HT will always have some effect. It’s not normally stopped.”
I said my goodbyes feeling much happier with that cleared up.
It’s cold today — grey skies above and a wintry breeze biting at me as I head from the surgery to the chemist. My beta blockers won’t be ready until later, so I pop into the health and wellbeing store for some herbal tea bags — the kind Big Sis likes.
No luck, Sis — they were out. But I did pick up something for myself, so it wasn’t a wasted trip.
A small jar of kimchi — my favourite traditional Korean side dish. A fermented veggie pickle with a tongue-tingling kick. We love it.
It ended up on my lunch, courtesy of My Darling — and what a treat it was.
I’m fairly certain I’ll be banned from it once chemo kicks back in, so I’d better enjoy it while I can.
Speaking of chemo, I still haven’t heard anything about the second opinion I asked for on my treatment plan. I’ll need to chase that up — I’d dearly love to have it in hand before my oncology appointment on Wednesday.
I’ll get that follow up done today.
———
For the first time in ages, I’ve taken some paracetamol — not for a headache, but for back pain. It’s a dull ache low down in my back, with occasional fireworks of shooting pain on either side of my lumbar region.
I can’t sit comfortably — even lying with my head on My Darling’s lap while we watch The Witch K-drama hasn’t helped. We’ve been casting it from a mobile app to the big TV, snuggled on the blue corner sofa — but I keep fidgeting, trying to find a comfortable position. There isn’t one.
I’m starting to wonder where the pain’s coming from. The pills don’t touch it.
Moan & groan.
⸻
Later…
After the echocardiogram, we drove home — surrounded by a parade of dreadful drivers seemingly intent on preventing our return.
But home we got, eventually.
My mind was full of questions, and just as I was thinking about stopping off at the park for a walk, My Darling said the exact same thing.
She took the words right out of my mouth…
(Yes — that musical segue. Thanks, Meatloaf.)
We parked beneath some trees by the lake, set our watches to “outdoor walk,” and set off.
The Canada geese were visibly disappointed we had no food, but we strolled on. I started to recount what the ultrasound scientist had told us during my scan. There were a few interesting points — but she also scolded me for not getting help during yesterday’s long AFib episode.
“You’re supposed to seek advice after just one hour,” she said firmly.
“Certainly not wait for ten.”
She’s right. I must be more careful.
Naturally, I distracted her with questions about my recent history and what happens next. She said her report would go to the cardiologist within hours, and he would pass along observations to me and my oncologist in due course.
We made it around the lake, and I felt fit enough to continue through the parkland.
While wandering, we stumbled on a pond surrounded by trees — one we’d never seen before.
There, we startled a tiny moorhen chick, which scarpered across the water like a black ball of tumbleweed.
Back across the semi-rough grass we went, returning to the car after a lovely 1.5-mile stroll — more than double what I managed the other day, and proof that I’m rebuilding my fitness.
The walk gave us time to think things through, and one point stood out above the rest:
The seriousness of the PE event.
I need to be more mindful of when to seek help.
The more the experts explain about the pulmonary embolism, the more I realise how lucky I was — and that, in turn, brings a deep well of emotion.
It’s all about me today, but as always, beside me holding me up and comforting me through it all is My Darling. I’m nothing without her. She’s there as strong as ever. Where does she get her strength? I wish I had her strength. I wish I wasn’t such a selfish burden to her.
⸻
My mind is still wobbly.
The aches and pains won’t go away. 
Big Sis is coming for lunch tomorrow. 
I’d better get some sleep.
Good night, fellow travellers.
