A fair bit of catching up to do this time around, since I realised it has been well over a week since I last managed to write anything.
The day after we got back from Dublin I had the joy of an early morning airport run to drop my wife for her flight. It is not easy seeing one another off at the best of times, and given the current situation, it is rather more fraught. The logistics of life merely add to the crap we deal with. In her absence, my mother-in-law had traveled down to pick up the carer baton. As I think previously reported, there is no 1970s comedy with regards my relationship with her: we get on really well (either that, or she would make a brilliant poker player).
After a couple of days doing work and other stuff, the 1st appointment of note for the week was a visit to the oncologist and giving another blood sample. The purpose of this visit being to assess whether I was good to go for round 2 of chemotherapy. All the markers reported normal, so I was given the nod. One positive from this meeting was the oncologist noting that the absence of an adverse reaction to cycle 1 was a good indication of the same happening on subsequent cycles. At this point, I'll take any wins when I can get them.
So Friday rolled around, and I was dropped back to the day unit for the session. This time there were no weight-related screw-ups, so it all went pretty efficiently. The initial injection didn't get any better, but other than that, it was just a case of sitting in the chair, drinking coffee, eating Bourbon creams, watching Peaky Blinders. Not a bad way of spending 2 hours, if you forget why you're there. The nurse attending to me this time was a true veteran of the NHS: she confessed she was approaching 50 years of nursing. She told me she was one of the mugs who stuck it out in the NHS despite all the crap that went on. I told her I disagreed, and rather she was one of the heroes that keeps the whole thing ticking along. Once again, scratched record mode here, but I never fail to be amazed at the people at the frontline of health care, making a difference every single working day of their lives.
Back home with the slow release device was the same moderate annoyance: moving about is OK, the IV line runs under my shirt, and the thing fits in my pocket. I just have to avoid hugging people and thus stabbing myself. Sleeping and showering are both a pain, though not overly so. Still, it is only 48 hours every 2 weeks.
On the Sunday I went back in for the device removal. Being the weekend, the day unit was shut, so it required a visit to the actual cancer ward. This was a rather tough introduction to end-stage cancer. Lots of wailing and moaning from some of the rooms, and stick-thin people sat in the day-room watching telly. It was harrowing, truth be told, and I selfishly wanted out as soon as I was done.
Over the weekend I had a message from my boss, asking if I might be well enough for a trip to Dublin: we were short-staffed in the office due to staff holidays, and there were a few projects that needed moving forward. I gave it until Monday morning to see if there were any reactions, but woke up that day feeling OK. I booked a flight for later that day to spend days in the office. As it was, it was good for the mind and soul to finally feel somewhat productive again. Outside of work, I didn't do a great deal, which is a change from my normal Dublin jaunts. But, I had to take things steady and sensible.
When I got back on Friday night, family had arrived from France for a week's stay (of which I had already missed 2 days). It was nice to catch up with them, and to see one of my 2 French nieces that I rarely get to see. On the Saturday, a friend from Uni made the trek down from Manchester to visit. We spent a few hours at lunch, walking the mother-in-law's 2 jackapoos, and generally catching up and talking nonsense. And, 2nd scratched record mode in the same blog post, I continue to be overwhelmed by people taking time out of their lives to make the effort to come and check on me.
Sunday brought a family lunch at a nearby pub, and then a trip up to Bristol to see City v Leeds on the opening day of the football season. After almost 43 years of watching City, I have long since shed any sense of optimism regarding how each season will pan out, and to some extent, football just serves as a handy excuse for meeting up with friends. In this case, another Leeds-supporting Uni friend had come down for the game, so had a couple of beers with him, and my regular crowd, before the match. I called it as a likely 2 or 3 goal defeat, and true to form, City didn't let me down, capitulating to a 1-3 defeat in a rather spineless and disorganised fashion. Onwards and upwards....