Veuve Clicquot induced Frisson
Frisson, now there’s a word to conjure with.
I think all of us look for a bit of frisson in our lives. I use this word loosely. It’s actual meaning is....... frisson /ˈfriːsã,ˈfrɪsɒn/ noun, a sudden strong feeling of excitement or fear; a thrill, "a frisson of excitement". I sometimes, too often, have a sudden strong feeling of fear. Not the kind of frisson that's very desirable at all, but it soon passes.
I think, if we’re not careful, we forget the pleasure a little frisson can give. So I still look for it. I know when it happens because it’s a feeling that makes you tingle a bit, it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
There’s always a little frisson when we arrive for our walks and I see who’s joining us. There’s also a little bit when I’m waiting to see who joins the Coffee Club on a Tuesday morning. (That’s tomorrow BTW)
Meeting ID: 955 027 2972 Passcode: 9RktZt
When Tricia and I regularly travelled to our house in Brittany we would both feel a little frisson as we drove onto the ferry. Two years ago we were invited to a New Years Eve Ball at the Chateau du Doux, overlooking the Dordogne valley in France. A black tie and posh frock event. We certainly had a good feeling of frisson as we drove onto the ferry, and a bit more as we popped the cork of bottle of Veuve Clicquot.
When we give our friends a hug, especially those we haven’t seen for a while, that gives us a certain amount of frisson. Once we all get immunised we'll all be able hug each other to our hearts content and dose up on some long awaited frisson.
This afternoon I’m writing this at the Headland Unit at RCH Treliske. My appointment was due at 1.20pm I got in 2 hours late, it happens. I’ll be here until about 6.30. One of the last people to escape today. Bleddy hard to find any frisson here.
What I can find however is some cheerful patients going through similar treatment as me. Nobody’s got no frisson. (Yes it’s a double negative, I don’t care!)
The Headland Units is not a particularly pleasant place. Today I’m in Bay A where there's 7 chairs, 7 patients, 7 pumps all pumping in chemo cocktails. Two men are just watching what’s going on, one woman being connected up, 3 women looking at tablets or phones and me tapping away. There’s two other bays each with a similar number of patients and about 9 or 10 nurses. Definitely a bit busy here today. Lots of beeping and pumps clicking and ticking away. Not very relaxing but that’s not why we're here. But the tea trolley has just arrived so things are definitely taking a turn for the better. Unfortunately but unsurprisingly there's not any Veuve Clicquot on the trolly but there is a cup of tea available. Having a cup of tea means I can pull my mask down, not quite frisson but unquestionably nice.
When I’m not plotting and planning for a bit of excitement I find myself occasionally thinking about how my cancer is progressing. I try not to let myself wander off too far in that direction but my latest thought occurred this morning. I woke up feeling unwell, hard to put my finger on it just a bit light headed, a bit wobbly, and I thought what is it that's making me feel unwell? Is it the chemo or cancer? At some point, I suppose I’ll know, but not yet.
So where's the next excitement coming from? Well that all depends on how I continue to respond to treatment. If I continue to organise walks throughout my treatment, which is my intention, then here’s a few dates for your diaries. 9th January. Walking in Bude, then walking again on the 23rd January. For the next date in my diary I have an issue. The next walk is scheduled for the 6th February but I have another, far more important demand on my time, so we might just need to do a Sunday walk. Rest assured it won’t be on the 6th. Following that the next stroll out will be, with any luck on the 20th February. That precedes my last scheduled chemo. Who knows what’ll happen after then.
So between my walks, the Tuesday Coffee Club, cake offs and the occasional surreptitious hug I’m not giving myself too much time to contemplate the nasties in my life. I look forward to the possible moments of frisson.
Just in case you’re wondering, I’m looking forward to a seriously substantial dose of frisson on the 6th February, just under 6 weeks away.