Post 469: I can’t stop enjoying myself this week.
There are very few weeks that have ever been like this last one.
It’s shown me that even with a narrowing life, where some things are dropping away and I can’t do all that I once did, I can still—with a little help from my Darling—have a fabulous time doing the things I can do.
Making friends and chatting all day has always been one of my favourite pastimes.
I think I inherited that from my Dad.
Dad was a postman for many years, and if we ever walked into town with him it was stop… start… stop… start… as another familiar face called out, “Hello, Eric!”
Mostly ladies.
Now that sounds dreadful…
…but it wasn’t.
They were simply the people on his round, many of whom he’d known for years.
Mum used to roll her eyes while Dad happily chatted away.
He always said it was part of the job.
Mind you, I’ve often joked that friendly postmen were probably responsible for quite a few divorces over the years!
Thankfully I escaped that fate.
I inherited Dad’s gift of chatting to anyone, but not his early-morning starts.
Thinking about my parents now, they really were very different people.
Dad was happy with life exactly as it was.
He liked routine, tradition and home comforts.
He never felt the need to modernise or reinvent himself.
Mum was the opposite.
She wanted to learn, improve herself and embrace whatever came next.
She was determined to move forwards.
Sometimes I think the three of us kids simply got swept along in her wake.
Where am I going with this?
Who knows.
I’m rambling again.
Perhaps I’m warming up for my first U3a Discussion Group in a few weeks’ time.
That could be interesting.
Do you remember my first Creative Writing meeting?
Well today I’m making it official and joining the local U3a.
What have I got to lose?
One thing I’ve always found about discussions is that, if there isn’t an obvious right or wrong side, I often find myself defending the least popular opinion.
Not because I necessarily believe it…
…but because every debate is more interesting when someone speaks up for the quieter voice.
I enjoy helping people understand each other.
I like finding the middle ground.
Maybe that’s why the Discussion Group appeals to me.
We’ll soon find out.
Talking of people…
Meeting Brian, Lorraine and Ryder this week has been one of the highlights of my year.
Three pub meals.
Hours of conversation.
Plenty of laughter.
It’s amazing how quickly strangers can become friends when everyone arrives with an open mind.
We’ll definitely be calling in to see them when we next head north to visit our eldest son and Kay.
Talking of Kay…
We’ve now reached the stage where decisions have to be made.
Although her follicular lymphoma has thankfully been caught very early, she’s now facing choices no twenty-nine-year-old should have to make.
Egg collection.
Chemotherapy.
The possibility of an early menopause.
When treatment should begin.
Who to tell.
My heart aches for her.
She’s incredibly strong and fiercely independent, but none of this is easy.
It’s such a contrast to the other huge family news this year—that, all being well, we’ll be welcoming our first grandson around the end of November.
What a year this has become.
Back in January I was in a very different place myself.
Now, if you ignore the PSA…
…which I generally do…
I actually feel better than I have for months.
The bone scan is getting closer, and hopefully it’ll show the steroids have settled things down rather than reveal any nasty surprises.
One other little job has been niggling away in the background.
Some months ago I asked our mortgage protection insurer whether my incurable cancer met the conditions for an early claim.
It’s not urgent.
But after three months of monthly letters telling me they’re still waiting for medical information, I decided enough was enough.
As you already know…
I’m not very good at sitting back and waiting.
Self-advocacy has become part of living with cancer.
Sometimes you have to give things a gentle nudge.
The problem, I think, is that our GP surgery has changed so much over the last few months that nobody really knows me anymore.
Years of cancer history have become little more than notes on a screen.
My consultant, however, knows me inside out.
So I emailed my wonderful Specialist Cancer Nurse and asked whether she could pass a message to Dr Sally.
Within minutes she replied.
Then, a few minutes later, another email arrived.
As it happens, the paperwork had only reached the consultant’s secretaries yesterday and had already been passed on to Dr Sally.
Coincidence?
Maybe…
…but I’d like to think a little persistence never hurts.
We’ll see what happens next week.
For now, our new friends are spending their last evening in Sussex with a glass of Louis XIII XO, Ryder stretched out beside them, before heading home tomorrow.
What more could you ask for?
Not a lot.
Sleep well.
Take care.
