Post 4: Tea cups and Tricycles.
Chemo minus one day. I’m fine.
My darling looks fine on the outside—but unset jelly on the inside.
The family came to visit yesterday. All nine of them: brother and wife and kids, sister and hubby, our youngest and his fiancée, and an old friend I call Mum. All here to see me.
On the face of it, this could have been a very embarrassing soirée—but actually, it was lovely.
Perhaps it was just what I needed to gain the strength to endure one more night’s sleep until Carboplatin.
The family can be hard work and annoying at times, but the Easter presents, homemade cakes, and long hugs meant so much more than the previous weeks’ words—whether spoken or texted.
Elevenses spread into afternoon tea, then dinner—and just when I thought I’d never get rid of them, at eight-thirty in the evening they headed home.
Leaving me happier than when they came.
Who would have thought that a pre-chemo tea and chat could be so positive?
The teenage nieces were a lot of fun. It really brought home how much joy there is in being young and fit—and helped us all remember the way we were at their age.
But I’ll not get into that old chestnut.
It’s my blood test today at the day unit, and I need to ask all the many questions my darling and I have about life during the tri-week cycles—tricycles for short.
Care, food, isolation, pills, potions, who to call, and when to come back… all very important things to find out—but very, very dull.
All I really want to know is what my PSA is now, and how quickly it’ll come back down.
It jumped to 80 last time, and I’m scared of what it’ll plateau at.
Yes, I’m fit and healthy aside from the PC, but when I’m alone, I think about the reality of my illness.
Tomorrow, I hope to find out my new PSA.
I imagine it’s like a weigh-in at Weight Watchers for the first time—where the initial figure (pun intended) is the springboard to dropping a size or three.
I’m hoping to lose a shedload, so, do I really care what the number is…
I forgot to mention my brother’s Yorkie bitch he brought to the tea and chat yesterday.
Although Lulu is smaller than our Stormy cat, she wanted to eat him!
If it weren’t for his speed across the back garden, Stormy would have been dog food.
Later, when he skulked back—growling and spitting—the bitch didn’t cave in.
I could do with some of that fighting spirit in the next few months.
Oh, to be a Yorkshire Terrier.
Last late shift at work tonight. I’m not looking forward to that.
I’d rather work right through these “tricycles,” as my work colleagues have been the rock I cling to when I want to feel normal—well, normal for me anyway, ha ha.
They’ve been very understanding and caring throughout the last couple of years—especially Steve.
It’s amazing when you meet a guy like Steve, who makes me feel like I’m the star, when in reality, it’s his ability to instil confidence and independence that makes me shine.
Without the late shift team rallying around me, I’d be in trouble.
I hope I find the strength—and honesty—to thank them properly.
Blood test completed at ground level, green area, room 3, seat 5.
It feels like the bus is moving faster the closer I get to my stop.
Bring it on.
I’m staying put for the whole journey.
