Friday and after a reasonable night’s sleep I propose to my partner that we go and have breakfast at one of the nearby garden centres. I take my morning meds and soon we are sitting in the Duck House café tucking into their special breakfast deal. In truth its a bacon roll and coffee with a hash brown thrown in, but it is just what I need. Everything tastes foul as a result of the chemo therapy, the two litres of water I am supposed to be drinking everyday is a real test. I add lemon squash to it but it still tastes brackish and off. Recently I have taken to eating bullseyes (the sweets) in the hope that the minty flavour wards off the foul taste It does a bit but by no means totally.
The weather is wet and miserable so when breakfast is over we drive home quickly to get back into somewhere comfortable. I change and begin the process of installing the new treadmill/walking plate in the garage. I unbox the beast in the office and extract the instruction manual and all the bits and pieces. For a while I read the manual trying to make sure I understand what I am doing in setting it up, I’m not sure I need to know how to use it as this is going to be my partners equipment. Once I know what I am doing, in terms of set up I unpack the machine and get my eldest daughter to carry it in the garage gym, where I have previously cleared a space by folding up the press bench and rowing machine. The instillation goes smoothly once I get the end with the power inlet at the right end. All that remains is for me to install the power cable safety protector which is arriving in the afternoon. In theory we are all set to be able to exercise without going to the gym, which will save us a lot of travel time and petrol cost. I will of course be taking up swimming soon.
I am tired after my efforts and retreat to the lounge recliner where I start to prep for writing something for the new poetry website blog. prost8kancerman.com I have a couple of old book that intrigue me so I thought I would add a blog entry about them. After reading for a while I tidy away the packaging from the treadmill and order my regular drugs. I have still got a list of important things to do, like sorting out my tax affairs and progressing the instillation of the little greenhouse that is waiting to be put in place in the garden. For now I rest and look forward to an afternoon of writing and an evening of watching a rugby match on TV. It seems that if I can keep a slow and even pace I can avoid any reoccurrence of my haematuria, which means I may soon be able to start exercising again. I am desperate to do some form of exercise as I think my loss of fitness is a major factor in my struggling to deal with the current chemo rechallenge.
