Wednesday comes around and I wake with a bloody cold. As if being jabbed on Monday, in the middle of chemo I haven’t got enough going on, a bloody cold is all I needed. So I wrap myself up in my thick dressing gown and lay in bed taking my vitals. They are not my average good, my blood pressure is up, heart rate up, but my temperature is stable and my SATs are average. I eventually get and still cannot find the pen top that I managed to mislay while recording my vitals. It remains a mystery, I expect it will turn up somewhere at sometime.

By the time I am up I crave soup and bread to go with my meds. I add paracetamol to my breakfast to fight off the cold. So fed and medicated I settle down on the recliner and run through my message and email check before reading the news. Apparently its going to snow. As I sit listening to the radio the emergency oncology folk ring me u to ask how my Haematuria is. I tell them that I am free of it since 5am yesterday. The woman says that is good news and to ring them again if I get a recurrence. I continue with my staring into space as I listen to the radio. I clear the kitchen and leave an instructional note for the household noting that if you stand honey top down it leaks! I also play loo roll fairy and fill the bathroom toilet roll store. Such mundane things are an adventure and an achievement when you feel crap. Eventually I get the laptop out and start to draft the blog. My early afternoon scone and boiled water slides by and my attention turns to the unopened Christmas Panettone. The evening comes and goes as I dose up on paracetamol and get myself to bed to rest soem more.