Conquering Everest and wet bums...

This weekend I slept in my own bed, with my husband, upstairs.  Yes, upstairs!

I conquered this personal Everest on Friday when my physio, the wonderful Carol, announced on her arrival that “the plan for today’s session is to get you up the stairs”.  I’d had no idea that she was so ambitious (for ambitious read deluded) and was duly terrified.

Never before have a set of stairs looked so daunting.  Standing at the bottom step was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done, but, I refuse to be beaten, so up I went.  And it was fine.  I wouldn’t say it was the smoothest stair climb I’ve ever done – it was slow, laborious and definitely not elegant, but I did it nonetheless.  Coming down is even less elegant, as I have to do it backwards at the moment, so whoever (usually the blessed Kevin) is behind me for safety gets a full-on view of my arse on the way down.  Isn’t he the lucky one!

He was excited about me being back upstairs at first, but then I started passing comment on the changes he’s made since I’d last been up there three months ago.  “Ooo, that looks nice”, “No, I don’t like that”, “That’ll need to be changed”.  I’m surprised he didn’t throw me back down the stairs straightaway. ;-)

Apart from that, the other big bit of news is that I had my ‘re-framing’ scan to assess the progress of the chemotherapy.  That was another experience I’ll happily forget.  I had to down half a litre of barium meal drink beforehand, which was vile!  It tasted like one of Macbeth’s witches had come up with a disgusting blend of vegetable oil, chalk, a token squeeze of orange juice and the odd bit of eye of newt and spleen of toad thrown in for good measure.  They also give you an injection of some weird stuff that dyes your blood so it shows up more clearly on the scan.  It’s heated in advance which they warned me would make it feel really weird, particularly around the bum area.  Apparently, there’s a large valve in each buttock where the blood pools?  Unsurprisingly, ‘they’ were right; it definitely did feel really weird - a bit like I'd wet myself actually.  Very disconcerting.

Anyway, it’s done now and I get the results on Monday afternoon.  Fingers, toes, legs and everything else crossed everyone …

Back home again...

I’ve been home now for over two weeks and it’s been fantastic.  Waking up in my own house, eating what I want for breakfast, lunch and dinner and generally being more in control of my life is a joy.  The woofers are also an absolute joy – making every day brighter with their unbridled enthusiasm for life.  We could learn a lot from dogs I think.

 I’m not sure whether it’s quite as ‘joyful’ for Kevin, who has to wait on me hand and foot.  He is running around like a proverbial blue arsed fly; cooking, working, shopping, laundering (clothes not money) and trying to keep me upbeat and positive whilst staying sane.  Bless him, for someone with the tolerance and patience of Victor Meldrew it’s a big ask.  He also has to get up most nights about four hours after he’s finally gone asleep to escort me to the loo.  I phone him from downstairs for this – he loves that!  He doesn’t need to actually do anything, just be there in case I look like falling over.  It’s a whole new experience for me.  For years, any risk of falling over in the loo at three in the morning would be because I was still partying – how life has changed.

Chemo continues to go well – well being a relative term I guess.  I now have the delights of injecting myself with a white blood cell booster for five days of the three week cycle.  I also have the joys (and associated downs) of being off my face on steroids for 5 days of the cycle.  I continue to shop like a demon on the steroid up days – it’s costing me a fortune!  Having said all that however, I’m still getting an easier ride than many people I’ve heard about/spoken to who are going through or have gone through chemotherapy, so I’m not going to complain.

On the mobility front, it’s still an uphill slog.  I have now though (drum roll please) moved off the zimmer frame and onto a ‘rollator’!  Picture below ;-)

Yes, ladies & gentlemen, I now have a cool vibrant purple old ladies gadget thingy with built in seat and everything.  I have foregone the shopping basket attachment though.   And yes, I do find it ridiculous and yes, I am embarrassed.  But, needs must as they say and however ridiculous it is for me to think of myself needing one of these, if it gets me to the next stage (crutches), then so be it.

Apparently there are lots of these about, so I’m considering launching some competitions to liven up my days.  Fastest in a drag race, tightest cornering, artistic impression - all other suggestions welcome.  Although, the mortification of losing to someone in their nineties would probably stay with me longer than I intend my disability to be hanging around.  I’m also unsure of what my physios would have to say about such reckless use of NHS equipment.  I suspect I’d get a good telling off.

Oh well, in for a penny as they say - I’m popping outside now to practice my cornering...