Post 95: Celebrations and Seatbelts
On an OK day, a period of it can be nearly perfect — embrace it as soon as you notice.
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The last few days have been easily forgettable thanks to the back issues, and while I’d been dreading the party meal all week, strangely, the closer it got, the better I began to feel.
With my new stricter pill timetable in place, I felt less stressed about the night ahead — a night I had been fearing for days. But there was one issue lurking in the background I couldn’t ignore: constipation. I’d wondered last week if it could be making my back and chest pain worse. I dismissed it at the time — nonsense, I thought. But here I was, two days without movement, starting to worry it was more than just a stubborn stool. Despite no major changes to diet, hydration, or routine (apart from extra codeine), the plumbing was fully on strike.
I’d been diligently drinking the Laxido — no dice. So I doubled the dose. Still nothing.
Day three dawned, and I was supposed to go to a dinner party. I was dreading it. But I’d organised it, especially for my brother-in-law’s birthday, and couldn’t face letting him down. I sipped the magical powders in hope of a magical movement and had a modest breakfast — just a yoghurt — then a half sized beetroot and cheese sandwich for lunch. Yummy, but possibly adding to the problem.
Some friends dropped by and we sat under the shade chatting. And then… a gurgle! Yes! A hint of intestinal movement — YES YES! I hurried to the loo, eyes glistening with hope… and was met with the smallest movement, no discomfort, but huge disappointment.
Three days, and this was it?
I was too tired to fight my internal squatters, so I sloped upstairs for a lie down. The new pain schedule was working well — I managed to get comfy, awkward wiggles and all, and nodded off.
I was awoken by My Darling’s call: “Pills! It’s time for pills. And you’d better get ready.”
To my surprise, I felt refreshed — actually good. I even said, “I’ll drive the Volvo!” and got dressed, suddenly ready for the dinner party I’d so dreaded earlier.
The unwelcome-guests within were forgotten. The sun was out, traffic light, and we picked up my sister and brother-in-law in that glorious classic cruise that only a 60-year-old car can offer.
After a short garden stroll and a two-minute battle with the passenger seatbelt, we were off. My brother needs practice with the vintage Volvo seatbelt adjuster. At least he had one — the back seats don’t!
Historical aside: The Volvo Amazon — which Olive surely is — was the first car sold with standard seatbelts from new. The three-point safety belt was invented by Nils Bohlin for Volvo in 1959, and Volvo gave the patent away to improve safety for all.
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There were eight of us at dinner — the company as good as the food. A surprise coffee and walnut cake rounded things off, complete with a “65” candle and a rousing (if not tuneful) rendition of “Happy Birthday.”
After dropping off Sis and Bro, My Darling and I took the same quiet twilight roads home. Conversation was light and happy. The worst I’d feared never happened. In fact — and this is the cherry on the cake — while the party was in full swing, my internal unwelcome-guests quietly packed up and left. Twice.
Need I say more?
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There is definitely a connection between the unwelcome guests and my pain levels. I’ll assume more powders are needed to keep that relationship in check.
I’m happier than I’ve been all week.
Thank you, family, for recharging my batteries.
I laughed a lot last night — and that’s the best medicine of all.
Still on the bus.
Four days until infusion three — whoa.
I’m finally getting back in rhythm.
Who cares about the occasional AFib if I’m well enough for chemo?
Bring it on.
