DVT DAY 41

So today was exciting, a Saturday lay in. The laying there feeling smug that I had fixed the laptop was good, after that it went downhill. I decided that I would at last have the bath I had been promising myself for a couple of days after a hot cup of coffee. I checked the boiler and found it was “out”. I turned the knob to reset, which usually solves the problem but this time there was a bubbly noise, the green light flashed on then off. I tried again, and then I tried again. The only conclusion was that the boiler was knackered. I made the coffee and a cup of tea for my partner still blissfully unaware and text out plumber. The plumber replied instantly and asked if it could wait till tomorrow, I was thinking about this when he text again and said he would be with us in half an hour. He is my hero. I of course said yes and he replied to ask if we had any latex gloves and to leave them at the porch. So we get decent, and look for latex gloves, which I find several pairs of stashed under the sink under a mountain of plastic bags. At the same time my partner came up with a pack of masks! Apparently she had acquired them early on when I was being fairly cavalier about the virus ad she thought it best not to declare the masks until necessary. In the rush to get the boiler area ready to be worked in I broke my inspection lamp and was mending it when the plumber arrived.

We hailed each other over the door step at a good social distance and set the ground rules after which he came in gloved up and closed himself in the office where our boiler lives. For about half an hour he tinkered and foraged through the boiler’s innards and then suddenly said, “all done”. We went back to the doorstep pose and chatted. Apparently the condenser outlet had become blocked causing a back up of water that fell back into the boiler and stopped it from working. Viola! Chop a bit of the condenser outside and the problem is cured. Boiler happy again, Roland very happy again, and plumber happy, because he gets paid cash and can get back to his decorating with his wife up a ladder. He is coming back tomorrow morning just to cap off and seal the pipe properly so we negotiated how to hand over the money. Frankly I would have paid him double, like I say he is my hero.

I returned to trying to rectify the SSD drive I had screwed up but in the end over a bacon and egg sandwich I had to admit defeat. It is something I will take up again one rainy afternoon. So I put all the screws back into the laptop case fired it and checked that it was working okay. It was so I cleared away and then did the Ta Da! Bit with my partner who asked if she could have Skype on it? By now I am feeling confident and with in a matter of minutes Skye is up and running and picking up all her Skype friends and work contacts. Sorted I think. She then asked if it would support the Photoshop software that she had as present some time ago. I delve into the IT box in the office and come up with the instillation disc and again within minutes the programme is up and ready to use. Finally I am done, I put the laptop in the new bag that I had ordered for it in a fit of confidence that I would succeed, and present it to my partner. Happy partner who now has a laptop of her own that is empty and can be filed with photographs and be used to do her isolation singing lessons on.

I am clearing away my tools when my partner appears waving the phone at me and saying into it “he is just here”, and saying to me “its the DVT clinic at the hospital”. Never words of joy when they are unexpected. I say hello and the doctor introduces herself and asks if I mind doing my telephone consultation early as it was due on the 23^rd. I assure her that if she wants to spend her Saturday talking to me she is most welcome. We chat about my last conversation with my GP and the possibility of coming off the dreaded self injections. She is happy for me to move to an oral medication in a tablet from that I can initially take twice a day, which fits into my drug taking habit very well, so we agree on this way forward. She will send a prescription to me to start with and write to my GP, copy to me, and arrange the future prescriptions. My response to the new medication can be monitored thorough my regular blood tests for the oncologist. It looks like a result all round, till I try to confirm how long I will need to take the medication. Will it be for the six months I was told at the clinic when I first went? “Ah” she says, this is never a good thing to hear from a doctor, it is akin to the sharp intake of breath by a garage mechanic when he is weighing up the damage to the car and the potential damage that can be inflicted on your wallet. She explains that because I am having regular hormone stripping injections for the rest of my life (thanks for the reminder) she wants me to have the blood thinners for the rest of my life as well! Apparently the 28 day hormone stripping injection makes me susceptible to DVTs, the fuckers never told me that when they started chemically castrating me! I am the reasonable Englishman and finish the conversation pleasantly being glad I was getting off the injections. Everything changes so this is just another ripple in the process. However I will need to rethink how I head my blog.

 I make my way to the bath room to finally have my bath. Bath bomb in, can of coke, apple and bag of cheeselets and I am ready. Phone to radio 2 and some music and I am at last in the bath I’ve been craving. I find I can dance laying down in the bath and discover that if I chant inwardly “iambic pentameter” I can keep time with the house music being played. Revelation. So I dance horizontal for quite a time. My partner has gone for a post yoga walk and I think my daughter has gone for her walk to. After several top ups I finally get out and wash my hair before doing the doing the full drying and scenting thing. Deodorant and smellies! There is nothing like climbing into clean lounge pants and fresh ice hockey top to make a chap feel beezer!

So I come down to an empty house where I head for the office and the main PC to writ the blog. However I am intrigued by the landline phone that is flashing a bright red “F” at me. I press play and I get a voice telling me that the memory is full. I press all the buttons in various combinations but it will not delete. I google it where I am advised to unplug it and then reconnect, if that doesn’t work the friendly BT people think I might need to buy a new phone, well they would wouldn’t they . I surf deeper and find a sensible voice of reason, which advises that if I scroll though the menus I am likely to find a “recording” item which will give me a delete option. I follow this advice and find that indeed over the last few months we have actually recorded several incoming calls. I delete them all wondering how we managed to record them in the first place. Bingo it works. At last I settle to write the blog, until a friend sends me a beautiful video of a ballet company working at home. I love it and it reminds me that if I had my time again I would seriously consider dance as a career even though know the realities of that.

Then another friend sent me a TED talk that just transfixed me.

So after these lovely and provoking interludes I continue to write the blog. This is Saturday night, no football, so I hope for a good film and an early night, after all the plumber is coming first thing.