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Sunday, 26 May 2013

Let's get physical

Yesterday was a really bad day.  I woke with a headache in the night that felt as if someone had gouged my eyeballs out.  The pain in my shoulder was nagging and shooting and, at times, really sore (typical Brit understatement there!).  It is often referred pain, so feels like someone has put broken glass in my rotar cuff.  GAH.  My lips were dry, my throat scratchy, my internal thermometer is broken so I was cold to my bones. I couldn't get comfortable.  My pillows had magically "gone African".   I couldn't feel my feet.

I also had what is euphemistically called a "runny tummy" which meant I was hungry and gurgly and all round mouldy.  I was also inseparable from a bathroom.  I was tired, cross, dehydrated, in pain and had low blood sugar, which meant I could out-grinch the Grinch.

The family chose the option of love, panic, sympathy and going off to see the Great Gatsby, leaving me to work through the physical and psychological pain by cleaning out the kitchen cupboards and throwing away loads of out-of-date jam.

By the time 7 pm came, I was so cold and tired that I collapsed on the sofa with Ugg Boots and hockey socks (Thanks for the tip, E!), two cashmere jumpers, a Schoffel and the girls' sleeping bag that is supposed to withstand temperatures of -10.  The mobile hot water bottle, AKA Pirate, snuggled up too.  By 9 pm, I was warm.



What is so counterintuitive about all this mouldiness is it means the chemo is doing its job.  It is crunching its way through the bad stuff, taking no prisoners.  It is also crunching its way through some of the good stuff, hence the intense physical discomfort.

For all my friends and readers who are recovering from an eating disorder, my sympathies.  For all those parents and carers who are helping their loved ones through the hell of refeeding, I wish I could bottle my oncologist for you.  When I moan and complain, she just looks at me as if I am slightly demented and tells me that this is "all perfectly normal" and I believe her.  She will then gently pat my hand and distract me by talking about something else.

This morning, I feel fab.  I slept like a log, took the dogs for a long walk and took photos of our barley, which is now on ear, meaning harvest is a matter of weeks away.  I am NOT going to try and outdo Onemoremum's cleaning routine or my dear friend, C, who cleans her hoover after use, but out-of-date tins BEWARE!  I'm coming for you......

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