Woolly Hat and a Squidgy Button
Bleddy Hell! Yesterday was tough. I can tell by my sore eyes. Following on from yesterday’s devastating news, this morning I’m surprisingly calm.
Tricia and I spent the afternoon and evening just spreading the news. Some of that really choked us up. The trouble I have is I’m happy to share my situation with you all. The problem with that is some of the things I share are pretty rotten.
Let’s give you some facts. As unpleasant as it is, my days are now numbered. I know we can all find examples of people who have miraculously lived beyond expectation but I’m not pinning my hopes on the unlikely. The cancer I have is not particularly aggressive nor am I now riddled with the disease. Simply put, on a molecular level, it simply isn’t affected by the treatment that's available. This means that the cancer that’s in my liver will, all too soon, cause my liver to cease to function. You may hear of people that have has chunks of their liver removed as a part of their treatment. Well that’s not an option for me because my liver has cancer throughout not just in a localised area. That’s just my bad luck. As for further treatment, I have opted for a really brutal regime of chemotherapy that may give me a few more months. But as I write I’m not wholly sure we’ve made the right choice. It’s the age old “quality of life” dilemma.
It’s a new life for me now. A life of tidying up loose ends and having good days. As much as I hate the term making memories I have my 2 totally loving, obviously oblivious, grandchildren that I want to make memories with. Maybe they'll remember my port, the hard lump in my chest that Mila refers to as my squidgy button that I have my special medicine through. Who knows?
I have a few jobs in the house to finish, not least the interminable kitchen installation. In a moment of frustration last night I threatened to buy some tiles and abandon the long awaited splash backs. Maybe they'll arrive today. I think they might. Maybe!
I’ve also been thinking about my walks. Some of you haven’t been able to join me because I’ve needed to work around my chemotherapy. Well, I’m having a chemo break, so next Saturday the 5th of December I propose having a 5 mile walk at Luxulyan Valley starting at 10am. Soon 5 miles will be too far for me but while I can I think I will. At the moment the weather’s looking OK ish. The details are here, http://iwkc.co.uk/w/156 This may be the first walk in the rain!
Another 5 mile walk is planned starting and finishing at the Borough Arms (now that's a good idea) just outside Bodmin. This walk may be subject to change because I’m waiting for my new chemo schedule, but for the time being it’s provisionally set for the 10th December another 10am start finishing just in time for a pub lunch. http://iwkc.co.uk/w/102
After then who knows. One of the side effects of the new drugs are a constriction in the throat if I breathe cold air. A serious if not deadly effect. In fact all my nerve endings are badly affected by the cold. From my nose to my toes. I’ve experienced this before. Very, very painful. Gloves, scarves, face covering, woolly hat just to put the bins out! This may make walking challenging.
Walking aside I was ecstatic to hear, at least for now, Cornwall is unfettered from the worst of the Covid restrictions. This means I’m suggesting you break less rules. We can “accidentally” meet in groups of 6 and grab some lunch. Lucky us!
There are some developments on the family front; Lauren arrives home, from Australia, just before Christmas. Abbi’s here with me this morning, but sadly Vicky's trapped in tier 3 in Bristol. She knows too many people with, or who have had Covid to risk coming home, at least not yet.
And today I thought I’d find it difficult to write. Wrong!