Jase was driving half way and then dad was picking me up for the second half of hairy bloke relay! I wasn't the most conversational of passengers which must have been hard for Jase as we passed through the stunning countryside up the coast and then into the mountains. I'd eased up by then and although not my usual verbal self the time passed quickly and all of a sudden we were handing over and travelling back into England.
Starting chemo always feels strange, regardless of the stage, but this was different. It felt like groundhog day, it felt like hard work, even though all I was doing was sitting there having drugs pumped into me same as before it was hard. Thankfully I was on the ward again and sharing with someone I'd met before, it's weird but nice in a strange way having someone familiar there. There are conversations that can carry on and you have a new conversation topic, progress. If there is any progress or what they plan to do next, sometimes it's good news other times it's not so good but it's still news to share and that's a new conversation to have.
The stay on the ward went, Mark came up, mum and dad visited regularly and I spoke to Wendy and the girls daily. The food stayed the same, still good quality but the same, my appetite dropped off and my legs and arms swelled up. Liquid retention is a big problem with some chemo treatments, but then they are pumping a great deal of liquid into a body which is struggling to cope. To counteract this retention a water tablet is one possible solution, to be taken with water! Now I'd had no prior reason to take a water tablet and so it's effects would be something new. So I thought, taking it in the evening was a real pain as it starting working pretty much straight away. The first night I was up six times passing up to a litre each time. By the morning I was shattered and two kilo's lighter! But still it worked, up and down up and down jug in hand. Pee, measure, record, drink, measure, record, pee, measure, record repeat until tired and then repeat some more. Like I say groundhog day.
The highlight was the return of the girls, brown and happy they swung into an empty ward room as everyone else had gone home. No bad thing as there was a cantankerous old racist and an ex army chef who seemed to have a word or fifteen to say about everyone or everything.
Coming home was as usual a tonic, our bed, our bathroom, Wendy's cooking. Just heavenly after what had been my hardest stay in Weston park. It turned out to be my lowest week at home since starting out on, furball 2 return of the lump!
Last years wedding anniversary hadn't been much to write home about, it was lovely and we'd been for a meal but it was just after treatment and it was a short evening. I think we even talked about this years being better!
Well I got it wrong, I didn't buy a card and I didn't buy a present. Wrong, wrong wrong on so many levels wrong. I used to be romantic buying flowers and things, sending cards and even doing a mix tape at one point (for younger readers a tape is something that used to store music maybe 90 minutes at a time!). But I'd lost myself in the bubble that was my self pitying head. I wrote Wend a message but I didn't even know if it made sense, I read it and re-read it but I felt like I was hallucinating while I was reading it so anything could have been there.
It was one of those days, it wasn't the day I wanted it to be and it wasn't the happiest of days but I was at home and that meant something. It just wasn't how either of us wanted it to be, we decided that next year we'll spend our anniversary in Paris. It gives us a year to save and for me to get well.....
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