Post 98: Two days till my 3rd Carboplatin.
All’s well that ends well.
———
Tomorrow’s first house valuation is looming in our minds, but today is grey and blustery. After a call from my little bro—sheltering from a deluge in his work van twenty miles north of here —I’m expecting some much-needed rain to reach us too. They always catch the bad weather up there on the higher ground.
I’m looking forward to our lunch outing today, and even more so to picking up the gabapentin. A fresh weapon in the arsenal—something stronger to ease the pain.
Lizzy is an old friend. Normally she’s with Sue, and with my Darling included, it’s a familiar trio. They all have one thing in common: their husbands once worked together at an engineering firm—now demolished and replaced by a horrible housing estate.
Those were the days. Those two guys became my unofficial tutors during my long apprenticeship, and our bond grew into lifelong friendship. Soooo many memories. But, sadly, the stories haven’t been told in full technicolour for a while now. Both of the guys are gone. Roger was first—cancer of the blood. He tried experimental stem cell and marrow replacement and got given a bit more time. Gordon, plagued by migraines, passed peacefully in hospital just two days after being admitted with a bad one.
Now I’m the last of the husbands.
I miss them—miss the stories, the banter, the characters we shared our lives with back then. They never made it to retirement. Their wives, bless them, are still going strong.
———
We picked up Lizzy and headed across town in slow traffic, listening to her updates and family news as she guided us to an old village pub. Nestled on a hillside, with flint walls and willow trees bending in the wind, the place looks unchanged in a hundred years. Inside, we were warmly welcomed, and the menu was a treat. Once the meals were ordered, the conversation took over.
It was mostly what I’d call “women’s talk,” and I found myself half-listening, half-drifting into memories of the lads. Star-gazing, photography, painting—none of that now, sadly. I smiled when I should, nodded at the right bits, and quietly enjoyed being present.
The food was excellent. Three hours passed, and my backside told me it was time to move. We dropped Lizzy off and made our way to the pharmacy.
———
And we laughed on the way.
As soon as it was just the two of us in the car, we sighed and chuckled. We’d been royally entertained, as expected. Lizzy’s memory is razor-sharp, even with her 80th birthday approaching. But, truth be told, we’d planned the lunch with a purpose: to tell her I have cancer.
That didn’t happen. It didn’t feel like the right moment, so we’ve decided to wait for a time when Sue can be there too—for support, and perhaps to help absorb the emotion.
It can wait.
———
We collected the gabapentin and got home. I was sleepy—this mid-afternoon drowsiness has become a new pattern. Not that I mind; I just feel a little lazy. One pill today, two tomorrow, three the next. It’s the gentle ramp-up to let the body adjust. The side effects list is long like the other pills, but I’m managing things well. It’s a quiet skill: getting by.
Until—bam! Out of the blue, another back attack. I was in bed, doing nothing, and bang—torture. It lasted the usual half-hour to an hour before easing off enough to let me sleep. My Darling gentle warm hands doing their magic as usual. What would I do without her…
A reminder, perhaps, from my body: I’m in charge.
I’m certainly not any more :-(
———
Still, I’m upbeat. Hopeful the new meds will help.
Tomorrow it’s bloods day for chemo, plus other bloods for a research trial into the origins of prostate cancer (more on that tomorrow).
I’m itching to get to the next bus stop.
Two more days.
Let’s hope they’re calm.
Let’s hope the chemo goes to plan.
I’m ready for this - It will end well
