Post 83: The hottest day in June.
I love the heat, but My Darling prefers the wind and rain — cooling rain might’ve been nice today.
———
I didn’t have a thing to talk about with the counsellor today.
The last couple of days, I’ve been scratching my head between sleeps and meals, but there’s nothing really on my mind. I’m calm. The chemo’s started. I can finally forget the self-advocacy and just lie here and rest — like I know I should.
But what do I talk about?
Think, Mr U — what is on your mind?
We drove to the hospice and headed into the café area, up to the pre-dinner food counter where the day’s light lunch menu was posted. Sweet potato and Quorn curry with rice — sounded good to me. A gentle little reward after the session, if I managed to open my mouth and find something to say.
Maybe I’m all better? Maybe this newfound mind freedom means I can just get on with life — without regrets or anxieties?
The lovely lady counsellor came over, greeted both me and My Darling, and led me into the safe, quiet room with my (allegedly) empty head.
No sooner had I sat down than I was full of chat. Words pouring out. I was halfway through the session before she stopped me with a gentle interjection that brought me to a screeching halt:
“So how are you feeling, Mr U?”
My eyes filled up without a moment’s warning. The tissues were handed over before the flood could reach my lap — which without, would’ve made it look like I’d wet myself. Such was the scale of the waterworks.
And it stayed like that — for the rest of the session. I still can’t quite get my head around what brought it all on.
I know this couple’s disease is hard. Really hard. So many marriages are smashed on the rocks of treatment aftershocks and the pain of choices no one should have to make. It’s tooeasy to become quietly tearful inside — whether it’s mourning the man of the house you used to be, now robbed of your masculine compass… or the heartbreak of lying beside the love of your life with all the love still banked in your memory — but no damn mojo to deliver it.
Whatever happened in that room… happened. A lot of hurt came pouring out — from nowhere, it seemed. Schooldays and bullying popped up from some dusty corner of a mind I thought was safely locked. The confusion, the battered esteem… it was all still real.
The mind is a fascinating place. But it can be a scary one too.
Afterwards, I was chaperoned back to My Darling with puffy eyes and a quiet realisation: this calm I’ve been feeling? It’s just surface level.
I suppose I should’ve known that anyway.
The curry was lovely. The conversation was quiet. But my rock was in front of me — and soon enough, I felt normal again. Ready to head home.
———
The hottest June day on record passed by while the Wimbledon Open started with a few wins for the Brits and the usual heat warnings: hydrate, shade, rest.
I stayed inside and watched more of the K-drama about those baby-hungry granddaughters. I bowed out of the heat, and the world, for the rest of the day.
All in all, I’m feeling stronger. A little less tired. No pain to speak of. My temperature keeps swinging — hot sweats from the Hormone Therapy, hot sweats from the actual heat — but still manageable.
I managed to dig out a couple of electric fans for My Darling to use while she went into town for salad shopping. She really suffers in the heat. At least I made myself useful today in some small way.
Still calm. Still content. Right in the middle of tricycle two.
Looking ahead to good news a month from now after the MRI.
Loving the sunshine. Grateful for this natural infusion of Vitamin D.
Every day I’m feeling just a little bit better.
