Monday, I wake to an empty house, eat breakfast, take my meds and then do very little for the rest of the day. All I did was the following:
- Write letters all morning in the Shed.
- Read Neverwhere from lunch till 0:48 Tuesday morning.
- Occasional WhatsApp messages.
- Took the Tesco order in, hurray I will not starve for another week.
- Fed the hedgehog.
That’s it. Took my night meds and slept with a head full of book.
Tuesday, breakfast meds and more reading. Ignoring Valentines Day, just another commercial crap fest. I shall fill my partners car with petrol, what could be better in these days of grey austerity and joyless world? I note that this Saturday is a Poetry Stanza meeting and also that I have not had the usual email asking for contributions, so my Dark and Tricky slips into paranoid mode, ridiculous of course but that’s me for you. I send a reasonable email to check my paranoia and whether I’ve got the date right.
Email does the trick, the Stanza is confirmed. I then read a WhatsApp post from a friend who describes the argument she just had with herself about going swimming and the internal tussle that went on to get her to the pool. This was serendipitous as I was having that vey argument with myself as to whether to go to the gym or not. Like her I won the argument with my SELF and got ready to go and do a session. My SELF can be a real pain in the arse at times but in general I am quite fond of my SELF as it seems to be generally trying to get me to be kind to myself. I drive to the gym filling my partners car on the way. I do a session on a cross trainer and work one or two weights machines. Its a reasonable session to start the week with.
I sit in the club lounge post session drinking coffee and eating a bacon roll while reflecting that I feel much better for making the effort. I had made a comment to a friend earlier in the day that “life had been a bit heavy to lug about” over the last couple of days. The lesson is always the same, if I make the effort I feel better for it I although this time I think I am dragging some anxiety about my PET-CT on Thursday around with me. I’m not sure what is the best outcome, whether it is “better” to have cancer that is “chunky” enough to “spot weld” or not. If not then it comes back to reliance on the available drugs, and the new one does not sound too much fun. My guess is this is part of what I am “lugging ” around. I drive home, put the bins out and change into my “Bedroom Athletics” woolly boots and lounge pants before doing todays crossword. While my partner fixes tea I catch up on drafting the blog. I’ve already ordered my next Neil Gaiman novel, Anansi Boys, another novel in the American Gods series, so I suspect I shall be immersed in that when it arrives tomorrow. In the meantime I have to decide which poem, if any, to present to the Poetry Stanza group on Saturday. My recent stuff is quite personal but I guess it is what it is and I am where I am so I guess they will get it. I have toll Thursday to decide and send it off, if at all. There is a football match to watch tonight and then I will go to bed early to make up for last nights readathon.
