Marking Tme

For the purpose of reassuring those who are still interested in this old bird, I am happy to report that I am still walking around, upright and with increasing strength.  I had thought, hoped, that I had seen the worst of what treatment could throw at me and that I would be able to draw a line under the whole sorry business and could go back to writing stuff that was all about fun and normality-but 'twas not to be-Radiotherapy was and continues to tire me out I have an itchy rash over most of my head and sleep comes only through the auspices of Zopiclone.


I personally am  bored rigid with the whole wretched business so heaven only knows why any of you stay with me.


Doesn't help matters when each day is grey wet and or windy.


  

I decided to re-publish a post that made you laugh once...giving me time to shake off the lethargy bought on by radiotherapy.


It happened a few days ago and at first I was so agitated that I said nothing, knowing that if I started on him I might do major damage, and spousal abuse is frowned upon.

Milou has slept under my bed since he was a puppy, when he was less weighty and could jump up to and from the bed easily. He would spend an hour or so snuggled up to me and then, irritated with my restlessness would jump down and crawl under. At first he did not have to duck his head or bend his legs even though there was only eight inches of clearance from the floor to the solid oak frame. But as he has grown older he is obliged to duck and slither underneath and JP, for whom Milou is, well 'special' on a par with the French Rugby team, ripe Camembert, and Napoleon and well ahead of Moi-has become concerned that it is getting too difficult for him.

JP. 'e 'as to do ze limbo to get under zair.
Me. I think it keeps him limber. Limber/limbo-hehe, geddit?
JP. No...I 'ave to do something.

The next day I see him taking some bricks upstairs but it doesn't really register until later. My lovely bed is now on four bricks and I am incandescent.

Me. No, I hate them. Please, take them out of my room.
JP. But you can't see zem.
Me. No, but I caught my foot on one and I hate them. Take them out, now, please.

And this is where I shot myself in the foot.

Me. Anyway, you've made a gigantic booboo because there are four supports underneath that were holding up the centre and are now in mid-air and now I'll break our thirty year old bed that you paid a thousand pounds for and which was supposed to last us till our final breaths.
He went to have a look and came down again with the bricks and I breathed a sigh of relief.

The next day I spent a couple of hours with NOAO son who had taken me to the Supermarket for a big shop. On my return we unpacked and put away the goodies and he made me a cuppa.

JP. I've fixed ze bed.
Me. [wailing] Oh noooooo! What have you done?
JP. [looking very pleased with himself] You won't see any sing. No bricks exposed and Milou will be 'appy.

I rush upstairs and don't know whether to laugh or cry because it's true there is nothing to see because my bloody bed is LEVITATING!

IT ISN'T FUNNY!!!!!!

The thing is that now I'm stuck with it. What he did was to crawl underneath and somehow, Lord knows how because the bed is extremely heavy; and  managed to wedge wooden blocks under each of the four middle legs, thus rendering the four outer legs obsolete. I certainly could not remove them. JP refuses to now that Milou can simply walk in and out. NOAO son can hardly walk never mind shimmy under my bed and the only other male candidate is youngest daughter's beau who said that he would not dare undo JP's sterling work.

If you read one day, that an elderly Frenchman, who had led a presumably happy life with his darling wife, is found dead with a Camembert stuffed in his mouth, you will know that I had nothing to do with his demise.

Since writing this the bricks have been removed and Milou now sleeps downstairs.

A PIECE OF CAKE!

I have just written a rather fine piece, funny and articulate of course, all about my run in with nerves over the prospect of Radiotherapy. I described how I linked that fear to the five-year little girl who was having treatment for Ringworm with what she had been told was an 'electric needle' and realised that the little girl must have been terrified and for all my antipathy to psycobabble and my belief that you should 'suck it up and get on with it' I took away with me from a counsellor at the Hospice some coping skills and decided that I would take that little girl into the room with me and keep her calm.

I just got to that point when a box came up offering me some edit or other. I pressed no and lost the whole thing.

I now only have one more session to go and I'm done with treatments...one more CT scan and one more visit to the Consultant and life can slowly get back to normal.

My fears?? Well I was so nervous I forgot all about the little girl and concentrated all my efforts on not throwing up.Ten minutes of placing my head in the right position and taking measurements and five minutes or less of the ray gun.A piece of cake. The worst thing about the whole deal was the discomfort of lying dead still on the uncomfortable metal table and the ripping off of the tape which was holding my head in place. I've had some headaches...but they could just as well be caused by the tightness of every muscle in my body when the machine starts its job. And the fact that it is every day but, as I have learned some folks have six weekly sessions and I have just had five days...I have been very lucky...so has the little five year old girl.

AN 'AMUSE BOUCHE'.

BECAUSE I CAN. BECAUSE HE IS THE CUTEST THING, BECAUSE HE KNOWS I'M NOT QUITE AS I WAS AND HE LOVES ME MORE THAN EVER; EXCEPT, THAT IS WHEN ANY OF THE CHILDREN COME A CALLING, THAT 'S WHEN HIS DEVOTION TO ME TAKES A HIKE.

HE WILL BE NINE IN OCTOBER MAKING HIM  IN HIS MID-SIXTIES IN DOGGY YEARS, FINGERS CROSSED HE IS IN GOOD HEALTH..

HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS LITTLE ASIDE. I'M SURE I SHALL BE BACK IN THE OLD GROOVE SOON. DID I TELL YOU I'M HAVING RADIOTHERAPY SOON? THERE, DIDN'T TAKE LONG DID IT?

This and That

Lately I have been disorientated. There has been a terribly bright object in the sky sending down rivers of heat. Even the nights have been warm. I have been going out to sit in its glow, coming inside again when I got too hot and in between just sitting, agog with wonder at the apparition which caused people to shed clothing [especially blokes who really shouldn't] and actually made everyone smile for no reason.

Today the madness is over; the skies are grey and overcast and it just might rain...heyho!

I am beginning to get over my baldness. Something appears to be sprouting...very white and curly, about half a centimetre...people stare...and for the briefest of moments think "Ah!" and "Thank God it isn't me." then they look away, embarrassed knowing I know what they're thinking  for I would have thought the same...before.


Began a book which I shall definitely finish. Called Triptych  by the aptly named Karin Slaughter it is a murder mystery. A writer new to me but she is good, very good, incredible plotting and in depth detailing not often I'm page turning with shaking hands...even though I did suss out the bad guy early on the race is on to see true justice done.

It didn't rain after all.

BITS AND PIECES

Write something, anything, remember Annie how a blank sheet of paper was always a challenge? Don't say nothing's happening, something is always happening. So get on with it.

Sazzie has been down here with us since last Friday. Lovely to see her and feed her, boy does she love her food, a joy to cook for, and I have been cooking again. She and JP have gone to the Hospital for his third CT scan...he's getting quite the old hand.


JP had a Hypoglycaemic episode on Saturday afternoon. He was mowing the lawn and I said, not putting two and two together 'You look dreadful, come and sit down' but he carried on until Sazzie said she would finish up t he job.  Suddenly he sat down next to me and began  talking gibberish and looked as if he had had a stroke. I ran into the house for a tube of Glucose [they are in every room] and Saz ran for sugar water and a banana. Luckily he didn't lose consciousness but couldn't stand for some time before getting him into the house. Two hours later he was back to normal and could not remember a thing he had said or done...just as well.
Oh, and Milou would not leave his side...just kept close with a look of such anxiousness in his lovely brown eyes.

Saturday was also the first day that I was able to use my new Cradle Hammock...not the lovely hammock I imagined but jolly comfortable and 'twas cheap. It has rained or been too cold every day since I bought the thing a month ago.

I am well. I get a bit stronger every day and am going to have a six week break before Radiography thank goodness, I was truly dreading it.

NOAOS is still in lots of pain but is showing a remarkable recovery...he is determined to be back behind the wheel earlier that the six-week period his doctor said.

So there you have it...a page filled. Perhaps it might be a good idea for me to dredge up something from 'The History' for my next post. Anyway, I'm still here and you my loves, are there. XXX

Electric needles.

Oncologist has suggested to might be fun to have a few sessions of Radiotherapy and I, irrationally, am scared stupid. I know that there are side effects to this treatment but my doses would be very light in comparison to those for whom it could be dangerous, and my hesitation seemed seriously debilitating, until, that is, my Eureka moment last night.

As always when presented with an enigma, I simply worry it the way a dog worries a bone. Then light dawned...of course I am going to be afraid of Radiotherapy...as I was at aged five. Terrified of the giant machine containing 'electric needles' which were going to remove all my hair and the dreaded Ringworm infesting my scalp.
I must have been one of the first children to be treated by this new discovery of Radium...I cannot help but think it was like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.

NOAOS has left hospital a day early with his new knee.
JP has three scans next week.
Must bathe the dog.
Still no sunshine.