I was quiet over the weekend – at least online. I think I was a bit taken aback to learn that chemo hurts. At least it seems to hurt me. Happily the nausea of Friday seems to have mostly passed. The part that surprised me was these sharp pains in my side, under my ribs, and my midriff area. They feel like the stitch you get from running and breathing too hard, so I thought my pains might have been from gas build-up or something. The sister at the oncology treatment centre said it was probably the cancer lesions objecting to being killed off. I can live with that. I’m metaphorically jumping up and down with glee every time I experience an objection.
I have been trying to avoid taking extra tablets. What with the Eltroxin for hypothyroidism, the whatsit-statin for cholesterol and the hrt for menopause, I already feel like a walking rattle. I got to talk to my mum in Oz, which really worked for me. The time difference means that the time to Skype is in the middle of the morning flurry of activity, so I hadn’t had a chance to talk to her since the port was inserted.
Sioux and Paulette popped in on Saturday along with half of Woolworths. They reminded me of the PaperHeaDs policy – ‘take the pill’ – rather than suffering.
I’m a wimp about pain. Harrison’s Hypothesis – tested with PaperHeaDs, walking friends, family and numerous others, remains almost a law for me. Women who have experienced childbirth have totally ridiculous ideas of what a pain threshold is. I think some kind of chemical brainwashing occurs at the point of production. The rider to H’s H is that men and women who haven’t done childbirth are more reliable indicators of what might actually constitute pain/discomfort. So my walking friends know that I whinge about the slightest hotspot or muscle ache, whilst they carry on without noticing their own discomfort. It’s remarkable.
This is a long way around trying to say – don’t worry about any pain I might report – because it’s my way of noting that something’s happening – and as Jeremy says in Terry Pratchett’s “Thief of Time”, “I have medicine”.
Sioux and Paulette also put our brand new food processor together. Pat and I bought it last week, and it’s sat in the box all week. I was amused to see Paulette taking the lead on this, with advisory support from Sioux on what widget fitted what thingamijig and for what purpose. They know stuff these two. I also found it amusing that, as with Pat and I, the instructions were only consulted as a last resort and involved some scrabbling for spectacles in order to identify widget A and gadget B. (Or is a gadget a conglomeration of widgets – the collective noun for thingamijigs, whatsits, gizmos etc?) I so enjoyed that giggle.
The painkiller I took knocked me out after that until 3pm. Then Karen R called to find out if she could visit. Great to see her, and to chat while she and Pat enjoyed a well-deserved G and T. As previously mentioned alcohol is not talking to me at all. Another change is that I’m really not tempted by all the ‘wrong foods’. Lettuce now smells delicious as do any fresh fruit and veggies. I apologise to lettuce for all my denigrating remarks about it just being a plate filler.
It was this conversation about food and what to do with the now assembled food processor that caused Karen to return on Sunday morning with trays of vegetable seedlings, a juicer she said was spare, a pile of recipe books and a stack of comedy DVDs. She proceeded to get Pat to make a carrot and cucumber juice, which tasted delicious – and almost miraculously perked me up. Pat was delighted at the ease of the process, and the fact that the pulp left over from the juicing will go onto the compost heap. No mess no fuss. It also looked like fun.
This is all grand, because apparently the trick is to get food that tumours don’t like e.g. carrots and beetroot and asparagus into the system. Juices seem to have the required roughage etc and move through the colon as quickly as possible, not lingering and encouraging the naughty cells to misbehave. Certainly I can report that things are moving well. We’d welcome any juice recipes (the Courtyard’s Carrot and Ginger juice springs to mind, if any of you have that one).
Everyone is feeding us. When Pat picked up her new pc from Godfrey, she returned with 4 fresh eggs from his fowls. Such abundance. The new Liz is finding it hard to understand old Liz’s diet – of a big protein and 3 veg meal at night with sandwiches in between. It hasn’t been a hard switch to make from that to fresh greens and fruits mostly raw. Let’s face it shop bread tastes like polystyrene! The only downer is not being able to go into the fridge, and Pat having to run around anticipating need. She’s also becoming an expert on pool care.
Another laugh of the weekend – was finally resolving the float/sink debate – thanks to Karen in LA and her access to an authoritative guide on the subject. In order not to offend sensibilities, I think I’ll not post the details of this resolution. For those of you wishing to know I’m happy to via email.
Now time to phone the insurance broker and set up an appointment, and get the timetable for appointments and activities organised. We had a hoepoe in the garden this morning. The last time that happened we were still in Caversham Glen 2006. I think it’s a sign. Lekker dag everyone.