Post 522: The phone rang “Hi, it’s Dr Erasmus from your GP…”
On a morning of no rest I should have heeded your advice about having a calmer day but after all the work I earned my lunch.
Monday for me is not the horrible day that starts a new week at work, not like it used to. Only working six hours a week starting Tuesday is the regime I’m getting well used to and when I think about it I don’t fear it nor do I want any more.
Tomorrow will bring me closer to the end of the current digitisation of the big folder of program numbers and details that are now forever listed in an up to date useful spreadsheet. I’m really happy that I was given it to do but coming to the end of it, I’m now dreading the next job in case I’m out of my depth.
Damn my nerves.
That’s tomorrow or this week’s worries in a nutshell so I should leave it for the future to dictate; today is my day off and there’s no U3a so what shall I do.
Breakfast is what I did first and I did it in style opposed to ignoring it as I would normally.
I came down the stairs whinging on every step glad of the bottom step that signalled the end of the torture of the back and hip leg pain. There’s no reason for the extra pain that feels like wear and tear after doing a load of walking but I just haven’t earned this weakness.
I straightened up my back and shoulders and made for the kitchen where I could hear Mr Vicious screaming for his breakfast too so, when I got to the blinds hiding his highness’ fur coat and glistening teeth that showed up each time he cried. He seemed unusually pleased to see me but I don’t know why, I’m the usual p human to feed him his delightful meal.
So I filled his blue plastic bowl and headed back in for my coffee and bite while I asked Alexa to play anything it liked to assist me in my choice of breakfast already made.
I had a notion I’d have the wheaty oval biscuits I haven’t had since summer broke out months ago. Gone are the long hot days and her to swap with the summer is the autumn gloom and so a hot breakfast is perfect.
In fact it going to be as hot day today the sort of day that is perfect to be outside in the garden if only I had the stamina and flexibility. Anyway, who cares?
I grab a bowl from the head high cupboard concealing the crocks and lifted one and a half biscuits, no need for more, I’m not busy busy so I’ll temper my desires and keep the breakfast small so I can have a bigger lunch, ha ha.
That reminds me, I need to find some frozen wholemeal rolls and let them de-frost for later. I find them easily and notice a few butchers products in the freezer while rummaging, I’ll have to ask my Darling what they are later.
Anyway, the microwave was heating the milky biscuits while I got the kettle on for my cafeteria coffee, decaf obviously, and after the microwave pinged I heated some milk in a large coffee mug for my breakfast chaser.
The smells were lovely and before I sat down for my breakfast Mr V had waddled in after stuffing his breaky in double quick time. I sat and ate my biscs after drizzeling a generous amount of Cumbrian honey on top, yummy.
I was in my little bit of morning heaven and as I munched the bowl of sweet perfection, I’m easily pleased, but the malty taste is alway a treat, and with that the kettle pinged off and I hovered over it to get the 92 degrees I needed to wet the coffee granules. Oh the smell!
I quickly washed my bowl of the biscuit and honey residue that, if I didn’t clean now would turn into malty ‘concrete’ if I didn’t. That done I put the beautifully smelling coffee into another bowl (as a saucer) so I could trudge back upstairs for another morning in the office; Mr Vicious followed me as if there was food upstairs, but he was sadly mistaken, the only food upstairs there was Haribos, and they’re mine not his.
I struggled with the stairs but in tiny steps I got safely to the top and placed the large coffee cup beside the computer for the 10th folder of blogs and the end to the printing of this marathon blog.
I can’t help thinking as I print and pack another 100 odd pages of my words in the guise of my own path into and out of treatment for the cancer starting last April 25’ and continuing on and on, but who will read this compendium of life under the cloud of my cancerous disease. But as I struggle manfully to get unwilling paper into brand new clear plastic sleeves; how the hell can some fly in with ease and some rack-up and frustrate me into a min-rage. Bloody paper. But going back to who might read this volume I’ve penned one little unborn baby stings to mind and I calm down in the knowledge that no matter if he see these ten or more folders he will be born and will at sometime in his life wonder who he is granddad was…
And that makes me smile and all the frustrations of plastic and paper melt away in the clear and fond thought that soon there will be a grandchild. A baby we, my Darling and I, thought impossible. But here we are.
The work in the office was only going to be “until the cartridge runs out” but it didn’t. The tenth volume was printed and packed and put in the shelves where they will get dusty over time.
My coffee is gone and my back is in bits with the pulling pain that makes it very painful to straighten my spine while heading back downstairs for a seat by the tv if I can beat the cat to it.
Beside the tv chair my pills sit but I can’t have them for another couple of hours so I sip some oramorph to ease my next four hours while I rest in front of the KDramas. Bliss…
After a big healthy lunch, no sandwich spread today, I rest some more with the cat on my lap until the large red front door opened and my Darling walked in tired from work and with the cat at her heels she awkwardly steps towards me for a cuddle and kiss. She looks knackered and says she’s heading up to bed for a snooze, wake me up later is the last thing she says as she takes her coat and shoes off and head for bed.
No sooner as I say back down to watch relaxing tv the front door bell went off.
I thought, as I got up that this was my printer cartridges and my Darlings “baby-things” that are received daily lately. Ha ha.
Anyway it was my neighbor from opposite asking if he could cut my front lawn/forest?
Damn right, I replied.
“Ok, if you open your garage I can hook you up and buzz the grass down”, “sorry i haven’t been sooner” he finished with.
I replied humbly that “it was a lovely gesture and one that I’d gladly accept”.
Now I was outside m, the very thing I thought about hours ago while making my breakfast. This is a turn up.
And now to finish my boring days blog with something you beautiful and caring lot are going to lavish no praise at all with and probably tear me to shreds.
I’ll be brief.
I used the time that my neighbor was grass cutting to amble into the bike shed to get the motorbike going in the anticipation that I could actually get a ride on soon, especially as I’m thinking about my brothers new bike that he need practice on for getting a test passed so he can ride his BSA 250cc C11g.
But before I could turn the key on my bike another neighbor appeared. It’s the gardener and fellow cancer sufferer from over the road. He was moaning about the back pain and t rouble walking he was suffering with. After a chat he came into the kitchen where I offered and he took a glug of my oramorph. Slap, slap , slap! I can hear what you’re saying and I should know better (and my Darling went nuts on me later when I told her) and I’m sorry I did it but I hope he can ask for some for himself. Enough said. Very naughty boy.
He left for home and I tried in vein to start my bike.
New petrol was what’s needed I thought, this old petrol is ancient ant e10 looses its flavour after a while, and it’s been a long while. So after the neighbour finished the grass I span down the garage for two essentials. Wine, the red variety, (Prosecco is off the menu now it doesn’t agree with her) and some e10 petrol in a 5 litre green plastic can. Ten blinking quid for petrol? Blinking hell! That’s not cheap is it. Oh well I need it so it’s gotta be done.
Tomorrow I will try and start the bike with new petrol and I will refrain from any medicinal aid to any waif or stray, I promise.
I checked up on the neighbor later and he was back in pain after a bit of relief for the glug I gave him.
I won’t do it again, the glug I mean. Anything could have happened. My Darling went nuts and I will remember that forever. All I saw was a gentleman in pain, I should have just sympathised.
Anyway, I had a butchers cottage pie and veg for supper and the rest of the evening with my Darling mostly trying to fix or delete a messenger fake profile that’s popped up in my name.
Botherations!
I’ve blocked it from my end but I also heard from several pals that noticed it too. And the financial advice given out on the bogus profile is not my advice, just in case anyone here gets a stupid messenger text with fantastical deals of financial gain.
I went to bed early leaving my Darling to catch up on her East-Enders. Enough said.
A restful day spoiled.
Take care and sleep well. xx
I’m
