Wednesday and I start Cycle six of my chemo, the treatment that just rolls on as long as the arithmetic is right, and as my arithmetic appears to be good, it rolls on. My partner brings me coffee in bed before going to work and I check my cyber litter. Nothing in the cyber bag of stuff is of any use, comfort or interest to to me so I get up and do a toast and jam breakfast before showering. It is a spoon costly exercise, even more so when as I am dripping with exotic foam I realise I have not put the towels near the bath. For once I have not carried out my pre shower rituals properly and I am left to shake myself like a dog and and skip naked out of the bath to reach my towels. There follows the usual rub down and then the towel wrapped trip to he bedroom to blow dry my hair. With flowing locks I dress and drive to meet a friend to have coffee.
I arrive and clearly I am not looking too good as my friend says its okay if I am not up to it but I say I am and she drives me to a local National Trust park to have coffee. We actually tuck into eggs Royal and Benedict with hot chocolate for me and begin our conversation. It goes on thorough many topics including my growing aversion to people and the vacuous noise they make, realising of course that anyone listening to my own conversation may deem if “vacuous noise”. Undeterred I continue with our conversation. My friend is an academic and philosopher who is the person who feeds me books so of course we discuss Oscar and Lucinda, which is her latest gift. We move onto Glass Churches, other books, how we are and favourite idea from favourite television series, including of course, The Good Place. By then its time for more hot chocolate and cherry cake to fuel us through more idle conversation through family, retirement plans, David Sedaris and other ideas about Therapeutic Communities as Operational Moral Philosophy and University degree ceremonies. The later yielding a story that it was Margret Thatcher who stopped the Open University from being scrapped when there was strong pressure from the conservative party to scrap it when they were in power. Bit of a difficult one to swallow that but she was clearly not all bad. Lots of miners children got out from under via the Open University, as did many others.
We had a quick look around one of the craft shops and then at “death corner|” of the garden centre to see if there are any likely candidates for saving. There were not so we left and I was driven back to my friends house. We said our farewells and I drove home. The evening was already closing in and so I settled down on the sofa and began to draft the blog. I have noticed that now when I spend anytime talking to people my voice disappears. It is almost as if its lack of use gives it a limited usage time. It goes hoarse and I cough as if an irritated throat has had enough and in a sense just says, in its own way, enough is enough.
Whilst siting drafting the blog my partner returns from work and after making me a coffee she checks her car insurance and asks if I have points on my driving license. I do not know, I know I did a motorway speed course, which was on line during or just after COVID, as for actual points I have no idea. Intrigued I Google how to check and then proceed to follow the instructions. I whoop with joy as his majesty’s official web site tells me I have no points, or as I think of it, I still have 12 to spend, which my partner points out is probably not the way to view it. I return to the blog.
As I have dined so well already today I shall be making soup later when my partner goes out for a meal and my daughter goes of to the fare with a friend. My evening will be football, I have nothing left in the spoon locker to do anything more clever today, certainly not got the energy to train. I am hoping over the next couple of days to begin the actual work on preparing my self published poetry collections. In the meantime I shall continue with Cycle 6 and next Mondays 28 day injection. Night meds and bed take me to the end of the day.
