Saturday and its the Autumn Equinox, not that it will make any difference to my day to day life, although it is chilly and makes me wonder if its time to turn the house heating on or not. I decide “not” remembering that the thick maximum Tog duvets have yet to be put on. I had promised my partner an exciting trip to the garden centre for lunch after she had had her hair trimmed. So by ten o’clock I was siting in the gym lounge sipping coffee and eating a bacon bun while my partner was in the hairdressers in the same complex. I continue to read David Sedaris’s Let’s Explore Diabetes With Owls. He is humorous and a sharp observer of his environment but he paints a jaundiced picture of himself, certainly of someone I would not give much time for. Maybe that is because he’s so candidly open and honest about himself and how he feels, which is admirable, but off putting with so many strangers. Can’t help feeling there is a lack of judgement in there at times. His now long term partner has obviously managed to find a way of accommodating it and also the fact that he ( the long term partner ) appears in his partners writings. I also reread my letter from the friend in Scotland. She manages to pack so much into a letter as she does into life, still working as a therapist she manages to do painting courses and is now off to CERN to see the Hadron Collider for two weeks as she has an interest to particle physics and its connection to Jungian thinking. Indomitable is the word I would use to describe her.
My partner reappears, trimmed and we drive to one of the local garden centres for lunch. At heart I am a child and love a good milkshake, which this pace does well. Over smoked salmon bagels we discuss the experience of retirement as I have finally managed to break free of all work and she is considering it. It took me years to really let go of work and all the ego and identity attachments that came with it, plus fears and fantasies about poverty and old age. Old age by the way is independent of poverty, its just a fucking pain in the arse whether you are poor or not. We chatted for a while with me listing all the things I do not have to concern myself with now and how my choices have expanded. There are and awful lot of “shoulds” and “oughts” that have just disappeared. It probably does not make me a very nice person or a good person but at least I leave people alone and do not interfere, I just sit and read stuff, watch sport and on occasions write a poem or two. I recycle, try not to use too much energy, eat reasonable amounts, do not buy crap or fashion and look after my garden. I write letters to the people I like who I do not live with and keep my WhatApping in control, feed the squirrels and birds, beyond that I no longer make any kind of contribution. So as I said since my real retirement my choices have expanded and I chose not to use them. I like to think that I quietly battle my cancer and live a quiet life, blogging as I go.
Our conversation finished we drive home with a boot full of pansies and viola’s. As soon as I am home I am planting up the pots in the front of the house, there is now a splash of colour along the houses apron. I move to the back and pot up some more but I get tired and run out of spoons quite suddenly. I quickly water the new plants before it rains ( a certain kind of gardener madness) and put the tools away. I’m in front of the TV in time for the first of two world cup rugby matches of the day. As evening slides into being the family eat a simple tea. Its simple because everyone, particularly my partner, are tired of having to think about what to eat. Sometimes no one in the household can face the the juggle of protein, carbs and fats into a “its healthy for you” meal. Sometime everyone just goes “yea beans on toast sounds great”. And it is.
I watch the Ireland v South Africa match and it is BRUTAL. I’ve not seen such a physical match in a long time. It was played at a pace and level of confrontation that take sport beyond a quick Saturday afternoon run out into something entirely different. By the end of the match I am drained, Ireland won, and for light relief I find Strictly on the BBC i-player. Its the opening show of the new season but I can only manage the first two couples before I have to go to bed. I am overcome by waves of fatigue and have nothing left in the tank. I take my chemo meds and head for bed. The blog must wait till tomorrow.
Sunday arrives and I wake up cold and headachy. It feels like being a storm tossed galleon desperate to tie up in a harbour and weather the storm. I get up and make my partner and I warm drinks and then check all the usual things I do on my phone. Getting up is a slow process as is getting dressed but once achieved there are bacon sandwiches and more coffee. I have of course weighed myself and find myself in the disgustingly obese category. I weigh in a 98.5 Kilos since a fortnight ago. Over the holiday and since I have not trained, I was thoroughly spooked by the the last time I passed blood in my urine while on holiday after what I thought was a short walk. Since then I’ve lacked the motivation or courage to kit up and go and row even though I know it is the right thing to do. Its a real catch 22, row and risk the anxiety of seeing blood again or not row and know I am not doing the best thing to alleviate the Chemo side effects.
Post breakfast my partner and I go off to the garden centre to buy this evenings meal and to stock up with fruit and vegetables. It is our usual routine broken only this time by acquiring a present for my partners birthday in December. Once home we unload and I head for the sofa to rest and to catch upon drafting the blog. I do not know if it is the Chemo but I find it increasingly difficult to maintain my concentration to drat the blog, I find myself swept over by tiredness and the ability to type accurately and to express myself properly. I have a sense that I am inflicting increasingly banal stuff on people due to flagging powers, but as someone said to me the other day “your blog is not meant to entertain”, that runs counter to the inner me that has always had the urge to do stand up.
The evening sees me eat and watch rugby before downing my night meds and getting myself to bed. Tomorrow is another Monday on which I have the opportunity to gather myself up again and start once more to take control of the aspects of my life that have slipped. Its a day to take a deep breath and go again.
