I’ll be honest with you – I spent much of today circling the drain. And that’s despite yesterday’s incredible show of support from book bloggers, readers, authors and just about everyone else connected to the publishing industry.
If you missed details of that, check it out here: Tommy’s Army
The promised fatigue has finally kicked in. I thought I was tired over the weekend, but trying to get up this morning was nigh-on impossible. The trouble was, I had to. I had to drive to Preston for today’s radiotherapy session – R6/24 – followed by a progress meeting with my consultant.
The problem with fatigue is that… well, it isn’t anything. It’s not ‘tired, so have a nap’, and it’s certainly not ‘shattered after a period of hard work’.
It’s just, as the youngsters of today say… MEH!
I don’t like MEH!
I’ve never liked MEH!
Don’t get me wrong – I love relaxing and chilling out and whiling away the hours as much as the next guy – but I want it to be my choice! Not because I don’t have the energy to reach for my cup of tea.
And that’s another thing! Everything has started tasting the same! And by the same, I mean the same as cardboard. Lord knows I’m restricted enough in what I can eat at the moment, but you’d think it might be possible to ascertain more than one flavour from a bowl of Scotch Broth, a Hazelnut Yoghurt and a cup of tea!
And so it was when I met my consultant – Dr Bizwaz – for my progress meeting. He is great. Really great. He commented that he could see where the swelling in my face had started to reduce (“I’ve never seen you looking symmetrical before!”), chatted about how I’d coped with the first week’s treatment and then admitted that he’d heard about my recent breakdown and had purposely hidden himself away from me all last week as a result!
He said that he knew he’d had to put me through so much, at such a tough pace, right after giving me some terrible news. He said he’d been expecting me to crack! And, when I did – he ordered the radiographers just to get me through the first week of treatment as swiftly as they could before he saw me again.
Then, he went on to tell me just how bad the next few weeks are going to be. No might be, or could be. It’s going to be this way – and you’re going to hate it. And, if I could give you a break, I would. But, I can’t. Not if we want to get rid of this for a very long time.
I came out of that meeting grinning. I felt much better, despite the rotten prognosis. Because – once again – he’d been 100% honest with me. No bullshit whatsoever. I really, really like him.
So, week two is underway. I went to bed at 6.30pm this evening (yay, cancer!), and I’ve just got up to take my morphine before heading back for another attempt at sleep. I just thought I’d take the opportunity to check in with you while I was here.