Post 391: I’m happy with the blood results, so is my CCN.
The blood test results from the 13th May were ok:
PSA 774 (only up 36)
ALP 575 (down 109)
Otherwise good, nothing to worry about; as reported by my CCN (cancer care nurse).
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The mad busy and very frustrating day yesterday is now forgotten because I’m able to wake and start afresh on a new day.
Slate cleaned, pretty well.
There are new clouds above me, some shielding me from the warm rays of the late spring sun; but I still have those butterflies in my tummy. Why I’m feeling the fluttering I’m still not totally sure, but it reminds me of a time, a time that I’d forgotten until now, a time I remember with some happiness.
It was back when I went to school in shorts, but the grey shorts were getting tighter and tighter around my waist.
It was the last year at primary school and I was having one of those growth spurts. I was tall and my huge belly and chubby chops were fuelling the spurt upwards. It was a great time as I remember; unlike the secondary school that I hated.
The seats were small even back then and the class was full of fun and creativity; the very opposite of the big school that we were about to graduate to — that was to knock the stuffing out of fun and creativity PDQ (pretty damn quick).
The whole lot of us in our class were going for a one-day visit up to the big school, for a walk around just to allow us to know what we were in for when the summer holidays were over.
Before we did get up there we had to do some writing about what it might feel like on that first day, with the brand new uniform, squeaky tight shoes and where going to a bigger school would make us the smallest kids there and things would be quite scary.
So in that primary school classroom we were all given a piece of foolscap paper and a pen, and told to write how you might feel walking up to that new bigger school on that very first day.
Butterflies were the most popular thought we little toads could come up with and although nobody except me could read my effort, I did manage to fill the whole page.
I’m not saying it was good; all I’m saying is that it was very creative and free flowing.
Looking back now I’m wondering if that free-flowing creativity was bashed out of me by English teachers that concentrated their praise on book readers and kids who could spell, so the fellers like me, who couldn’t spell and hated reading, lost all the skills germinating in those primary school classrooms.
And I keep saying I hated the big school — but I really did.
But going back to the butterfly missive, back in the days of the wooden spoon punishment, I am reminded of those butterfly feelings each day when I wake up and throw the curtains wide to a new morning and there they are, still there in my belly.
The same ones as that first day at big school. And I thought they only lived for a couple of days.
Enough already.
Let’s try and move on.
I have a burning desire to spend money on myself like I know my Darling spends on herself. Yes, I’m jealous, of course I am. I want to be pampered.
I tried to get a massage but as soon as you mention the C word they say, “sorry, you need a doctor’s note, I can’t do anything to you”.
My hair is not likely to need highlights from a hairdresser and my slow-growing moustache does not need waxing. But…
I do like the idea of getting my nails done. I’d like it done in the comfort of my own home. But! I do not want any colouring in on them. Not at all.
So I texted an authority on nails (from Bing services) and because it was a company from just up the road, half a mile away, I thought I’d give them a go.
Is £40 ok for the job? I don’t know and I don’t care, but my toes will look fabulous darling.
Yes, I’m only talking about a pedicure. And you know why…
Because I can’t reach my toes any more.
The guy arrived on time and put my mind at rest immediately when I sat in our kitchen and, as I took my newish Arsenal slippers off, he said “oh, you’ve really looked after them haven’t you”.
He then put them up on his knee one by one and said “I wish I had 10 patients like you a day”.
I really didn’t know what to say but I kept it clean and didn’t joke about or upset him; well he did have sharp instruments in his hand and I didn’t know the chap. Ha ha.
Funnily enough I had washed my feet in a bowl of warm water just before he came which is a bit like my Darling, cleaning the house before the cleaner comes in for his day job.
Anyway my beautiful feet had him swooning about the least likely “best” bit of me, which I enjoyed immensely.
The only thing of how I could possibly improve them was to moisturise more; or in my case to start moisturising. It’s not something I’ve done till now but since chemo I have noticed my previously oily skin is much dryer now. So I will do as I’m told and use some cream on my legs. Which sounds awfully naughty.
Ha ha.
He went off in good time and said he was off to check on a guy who earlier in the week he visited and found a huge wound under his foot which needed antibiotics and careful dressing. And by the way he was screwing his nose up as I’m led to believe that was a right mess.
No wonder he smiled at my feet when he saw them undressed for the first time.
I haven’t said anything about my Darling yet, and there’s a good reason for that.
I’ve been her nurse today. Bless her.
I was in bed this morning and as it wasn’t yet time to feed Mr Vicious I chose to watch a bit of a k-drama I had been enjoying when I heard a bump from along the landing.
I presumed the huge water bottle my Darling has had fallen off the bedside table but I turned the TV off and shouted a jovial “are you ok?”. To which there was no reply. Then I heard the bathroom door and relaxed.
In the next few seconds the door went again and I shouted for the second time the same call but more anxiously. I also got out of bed to check on my dearest and saw a pained expression on her face.
She did a twirl as I checked her body for scars. She had fallen down after jumping out of bed too fast, oh crap!
Her legs were fine except for a light bruising on her upper thigh, but her right upper arm was grazed and slightly bleeding across three lines of damage. Oops! Ouch! Oh you were lucky.
I waited till she was back in bed till I administered savlon first aid, made her aware it was gonna be sore for a while but otherwise ok, gave her some paracetamol and filled her water bottle and left her to rest.
Which she did until after the podiatrist had gone, when she came down and we ordered a pizza. The only thing she’d had all day was a cup of coffee and all that water; I still think she’s related to fish with the amount of water she drinks.
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There was no reply to the urgent email I sent to the cancer care coordinator. Better luck tomorrow. But just in case, I copied the email into an Anima request and I await the response from that too.
You may think I’m being impatient but I’m fed up with how I’m not getting any simple answers to my simple questions, and my butterflies are possibly made worse by not having an answer. Who knows what’s going on in my belly or in Anima World.
There’s been a vengeful return of the hot flushes in the last few weeks too, which I thought would abate very soon
after the Zoladex injection, but it hasn’t yet.
This is also irritating.
I think I’m mostly worried about whether it or not the car will sell by auction. It’ll be the first time ever I’ve tried to sell a car. So that’s been on my mind but so is work.
I really want to go but the fit-for-work phased return is so important but still a million miles from being ready.
But I’ve now had a foot spa today and I must say I’m so glad I’ve done it.
I’ve got Big Sis tomorrow afternoon for a chat and a hug or two. Then Little Bro in the evening with his wife and their youngest. If that doesn’t wear me out nothing will.
It’s nice not to be worrying about my own health which is (touch wood) remarkably good right now.
So I can’t complain much can I.
I hope you can’t too.
Take care
Night night.
