Wednesday and I am awake quite early as I am taking my partner to the clinic in the centre of town later. Before I can get out of bed my partner brings me hot water and marmalade toast. While I nibble this I sort out my cyber messages and litter. Of course I check to see if my book is still on Amazon, of course it is but it taking a while to get used to the idea that bits of me are out there. I get up and get ready to be my partners chauffeur. Last night I did my navigator researcher and had todays route planned in my head. On the dot of ten o’clock we drive off to the clinic.
The clinic is in an inaccessible part of town with extremely poor parking so the plan is for me to drop my partner off and then find somewhere to park. The plan goes well, I’m good at having maps in my head so I was able to get us straight there without a hitch. I drop my partner off and then retreat to a far off Holiday Inn car park. Rather than sit like some sad person in the car park I went for a short walk to where I thought a Costa was. Alas it has fallen by the wayside like so many cafes in town. I walk back to the car and as I arrive my partner calls me serendipitously to say she is done. I pick her up and we drive to our favourite garden centre café for lunch.
Once home I strip off the fleece lined trousers that are boiling my legs and take my vitals before taking up my place on the sofa to draft the blog, during which I nap heavily. My very berry herb tea arrives and I have a celebratory pot while I draft on my laptop. I am apparently tired as I keep napping, I am hoping to watch a football match tonight but I’ve no idea if I will fall asleep or not.
I find that I have managed to do the next Tesco order, read my poetry book in the post excitement light of day and send a couple of messages to friends. By evening time pizza has been eaten, football kept an eye on and the worst Sandra Bullock film I’ve ever seen played out. I am distracted by the fact that tomorrow is my oncology review. I have a letter saying my appointment is at 10:20, but since the letter I have had texts and emails saying I should expect my call between 9:20 and 11:20. Once again the patient has to accommodate the physician not the other way round. How inconvenient it must be that people get ill and stop doctors doing what they want to do, presumably marine biology or something less aggravating than humans. I should get the results of my bone scan, apart from that I’ve no idea what will happen when I tell them that I’ve stopped training because it makes me piss blood, that my weight has gone up and I have lost my fitness. Everything they use to judge my wellness, e’g the arithmetic of the bloods and vitals are all good, so my guess is they will just give me another three cycles of chemo and tell me to fuck off for three months and to wait for another telephone call. And with that cheery thought I take my meds and go to bed.
