Hello, hello! It’s been ages – where have you been??
Ah – sorry – other way round.
I think the best way to explain the absence of my ramblings involves a principle I maintain for my garden: I never plant out my seedlings unless it’s a sunny day. Think how you’d feel if someone hoiked you out of a greenhouse and shoved you into a cold border? I wouldn’t like it – and as my plants are, actually, humans, right, with personalities, periods and feelings and all that, I treat them the same as I would any other friend. (Did I mention I actually think they are my friends? #awks.) Do unto others as you would be done by, praise the Lord and Happy Christmas. Works for me!
This is not to say that I’ve been all Wuthering bloody Heights with dramatic wailing, stumbling and tearing out of what’s left of the hair (ok, a few stumbles – more of that later) all this time. Don’t do an audio conjour-up on my account of Kate Bush (erm…sans surname for some these days!) Oh no.
The surprise return of my No.1 bestie from lots of countries, after six months, has been absolutely monumental for me. Little tinker had led me to believe she was arriving on a certain day, but all along, a date and a plane ticket five days earlier had been in plan. Loads of people were in on it – including the carer – but managed to keep quiet. All I can say is that it was the best, brightest, warmest and most emotional moment I think I have ever had. I keep staring at her and touching her to make sure she’s real. She thinks I’m FECing bonkers and is booking a one-way ticket back to Bali as soon as she can.
Then there was what happened last week. I rest my case.
Also, I’ve been a bit annoyed after Cycle 4, 12 days ago. I have a flexible contract with FEC – it’s set up to do very useful, but sometimes unpleasant things to me; I have resisted well; so much so, I’ve obviously pissed it off and crossed a line – so on Cycle 4, it decided to remind me that ultimately, it is in control. Hence I’ve been feeling rather worse, in new and different ways, for longer, this time. I am having to fit round it, as opposed to vice versa – but that’s fine; no drama, no surprises – we push on through, laughing our pants off, obvs.
Well, one surprise I suppose – this was NOT in the small print I signed up to! I’ve taken to fainting! Ha! I am Kathy after all! I was planting out some perenns the other week and suddenly felt super-dizzy. I was on my own – fine. I could hear myself saying out loud, ‘woahhhh….this is weird!’ Next minute, face down in the festuca (Elijah Blue, plant fans!) with not a Heathcliffe in sight to snog. Bugger. Total disorder in the border. Hilarious!
Anyway, it was a really sunny day (obvs – see para 1) so I just lay there for a bit; I almost snoozed actually, as it was so warm (south-facing beds – can’t beat ‘em). I always carry my phone in my back pocket (or…controversially…my BRA!!!!! Rude word!! TITter ye not!) so I texted #1 bestie who was not far away and just asked her to come and look for me in the flower beds when she got home. No problem. I think I was well back inside making chickpea burgers by the (short) time she arrived. Chickpea burgers, I hear you laugh? Come on guys, these halos don’t polish themselves. Nutrition is key to this whole thing and I am bang on it. Or not; maybe should’ve gone for a bit of wagu, moorhen or lark the night before that episode?
Hmm, what else. Oh – I’ve felt so pukey. Not actual vomola, but just feeling like I want to a lot of the time. That’s fine – I’ll see Onc next Monday for my prescribing appointment and he’ll just say ‘get over yourself’, and we’ll continue the same zapping cocktail two days later. I have such a laugh with him – he’s the only bloke in the MDT (multi-disciplinary team) assigned to my case. He’s the token man, the weirdo, the whacky, geeky, super-intelligent medic who does something completely whacky, geeky and super-intelligent in his spare time.(Not telling you what – I do have doctor confidentiality to think of you know.) I think most of them do – it’s a stress reliever I guess. I’m going to talk about all the fantastic women who are the pride of my pack another time. In the meantime, let’s hear it for the (medical) girls!
Any country lane up, what with the fainting, near puking and all that on my side, and the fact my carer is on his knees with a very busy workload, and sorting out a certain dependent at home, I have persuaded him to actually take some time off and for us to go on a full-blown, two-centre, four-day, sea and countryside mini-break! I am SOOOOO excited!!!! We’re going THIS WEEK!!!!
We can’t go anywhere for more than two working days at the mo just because I have hospital appointments, in between zappings, one to three times a week. I’ve managed to squidge them up and get a routine one sorted for dawn one day, so that we can head off straight after that, mid-week. No.1 bestie is here with her man to chill out in her home and feed the cats – we’re all set.
Or are we?
Time was, for a romantic mini-break, all you did was throw a negligee (the satin pillowcase purchase has thrown up some whole new ideas into my wardrobe, folks!) some lippy and a frock into a bag and away you go, just like Bridget Jones on her first weekend mini-break with Daniel. I don’t think my follicles would stand up well to an open top sports car just now but hell, I can wear a scarf with panache.
Also, this is our attempt to replicate our honeymoon, which we spent in Dorset and the IoW. We did the exact same itinerary last year, for year 1, but this time, a zapping is set to disrupt the schedule. So we’ve split it; we’re doing a bit of it this week, and the rest of it just before the actual day, our second wedding anniversary (woo hoo! Must be time for a vow renewal!), because the day after the anniversary, I get zapped for the final time.
I’ve been making lists. LOTS of lists. We haven’t been away together since January (post-diagnosis but pre-nonsense). It’s not reading like the typical contents of a replicate honeymoon suitcase. Thus far, we have:
- 12 x 1.5L bottles of Evian (I drink 3L a day, without fail, and have shoved a couple more in for emergency purposes)
- 20 sachets of Move-it-all
- Lots of big, clean pants (see previous bullet)
- Clean satin pillowcases (bleeeucchhh – what will they think when they make the bed up in between days at the hotel? Perv central!)
- Rattly bag of meds to cover all eventualities (see above – so we present as pervs and drugs dealers? We’ll be arrested by day 2!)
- Thermometer (see bracketed comments above) – although it is one you just wave at your face – not a pointy one. Ahem.
- Organic gluten-free oats (obvs)
- Emergency contact card and instruction card to medics in case of neutropenic sepsis episode
- A pair of jeans, a frock, a toothbrush (and that’s the carer’s)
- 653 Freddo bars (obvs).
Not quite the romantic idyll of two years ago is it??
Never mind, we continue, determined, and I absolutely cannot wait to see my carer truly relax and kick back, catch up on sleep, read his weird books and for us to have some lovely coastal and country walks together. He needs and deserves it, big time.
So, little FECer, you may think you’ve got the better of me this time but you know what I say? Babooschka to that.
Pip pip, I’ll send you a postcard J
Who's going to get the chicken? 