Post 99: Bloods, weeds and loose bowels.
Days like this are rare but memorable.
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Being memorable isn’t always a good thing – today was mostly good, with the occasional tummy pain.
The usual powder and pills started off a fairly normal morning, and with blood tests due, I didn’t need to rush. Day two of gabapentin (all is well), day-before-chemo – what could go wrong?
Just the tummy, which kicked off like a toddler on a tantrum. Everything else? Okay.
I headed to town for the bloods at the local surgery, brown bag in hand from the far-away teaching hospital for the Embrace research trial. I arrived on time at 10:30 and was seen promptly – the Vampire Nurse in good form and my well-hydrated veins playing their part. After the usual three chemo vials were filled and dealt with, there was a pause for paperwork. I’d already filled out the questionnaire and signed it, so we were in and out in good time. The post office was just a short hop to post the trial sample. Easy peasy.
I hadn’t even had time to sit down after getting home when the knock came – our first estate agent valuation had arrived. My Darling had used the time I was out to tidy up, and the house looked great. Upstairs, downstairs, outside – all the usual tour bits were viewed a notes were taken, with nice comments and approving noises all was going well. We sat down for the discussion and my Darling took the lead, as planned. That is… until I couldn’t help myself. I jumped in during a conversation about the simple truths surrounding future renovation and my shortened life expectancy. That triggered an unexpected swell of emotion and I had to leave the room. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Just one of those moments when the slope gets steep and you’re forced to stop, breathe, and rest. I didn’t return to the conversation and didn’t see the lady out.
Later that evening, we reflected more calmly. And then, ironically, caught up with this weeks Panorama exposé on estate agents using sharp practices. Tactics designed to tame the system and line their pockets. Predictable maybe, but still deflating when you’re about to hand your home and dreams over to that very process. Lesson learned: get multiple quotes, stay sceptical, and trust your gut.
Back in the afternoon, I felt compelled to make amends for the slightly overgrown back patio, embarrassed by its state during the valuation. So I pulled weeds until the heat and aches said “enough.” Back inside, my Darling was hunting dream homes online (ideally a two-bed bungalow with three garages and four sheds – sounds perfect 
). Mr Vicious watched, curled beside us, clearly sensing change in the air.
But my gurgles returned. Two dashes to the loo later, I was cursing this new tummy roulette. Perhaps I didn’t need that powder this morning. But who knows anymore? Slow, slow, whoosh seems to be the pattern now. I ate what I could – a marmite roll, crisps, and a bag of fruit pastilles, jelly tots and wine gums (cheers Sis!) – and everything settled.
We resumed watching the estate agent programme, learning just how easily buyers can be manipulated. One takeaway: price your home yourself. Advice is fine, but the final say is yours.
Despite all that, it wasn’t until 03:30 that I finally got to bed. Tomorrow is chemo day – it’ll be a very sleepy one.
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Bloods are in. I’ve emailed Nurse N with some queries:
• Haemoglobin dropped: 150 → 106
• Serum alkaline phosphatase up: 70 → 205
• Haematocrit down: 0.37 → 0.31
What does this mean?
No panic, but I’ll wait for answers.
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If all’s well, I’ll be in the chair tomorrow for Carboplatin infusion #3 – the halfway point.
Then it’s back on the bus, next stop: the halfway scan.
Post 100 next – what timing!
I couldn’t have planned it better if I tried. 
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PS
Bonus drama:
Mr Bloody Vicious – the legend – made an entrance through the lounge window carrying a live sparrow. My Darling screamed. I dropped the remote. A hallway tussle ensued. He eventually let go, and the poor sparrow got a hasty funeral. Bloody cat!
