Whilst the trip to Larkhall was arguably not the finest moment of my recent life, it was enjoyable. Live sport, stood with my wife and some of my closest friends, gutter language clearly audible from both teams and dug outs, a lovely view across Bath, and getting to retrieve the match ball from a neighbouring allotment. What's not to like? The only negative was making it back to the car at full time, and hearing that Bristol City had blown a win at Barnsley, conceding a penalty in the 11th minute of added time, successfully converted by a former player. Though, to be fair, the very same player scored an injury time equaliser the last time we visited Oakwell, so it's not like we weren't warned. The mighty reds never fail to disappoint.
I took the rest of the weekend very easy, I didn't really have a lot to celebrate or look forward to, other than an impending call with the pharmacist about the new drug regime. That call happened on the Wednesday. It was with a very chirpy, young sounding, lad, but I trusted he knew what he was talking about, even if he had problems pronouncing the scientific names of the 2 active drugs I was to be taking. He went over the logistics of the protocol, and also discussed the likely, and remote, side effects. He did miss out one of the more remote ones, namely death. Arguably an important one to mention. When I did bring that point up, his reply of "I guess if that happens it means we haven't really managed the case too well" made me laugh probably more than he might have expected. Luckily we both saw the funny side. He advised that the drugs were ready at the hospital pharmacy for me to collect, so we went over the following day, and I picked up a bag that seemed to be half of their stock. The course was due to start the following Monday, so I still had a couple of days to enjoy before plunging back in.
On the Friday we drove over to meet my sister and her partner for lunch. It was the first time we had ventured to a pub further afield than the very safe, and very quiet, one just up the road. As it turned out, it all felt very safe there too, and we had a lovely lunch and catch up. And had the bonus of stopping by to see my niece for coffee on the way home. The next day a friend from university had arranged for a catch up by Zoom with a load of lads I hadn't seen, or spoken to, in ages. It was a fun hour or so, and made us all realise we need to do it more often. Given most people remain stuck at home for large periods of time, there really is no excuse except apathy.
On Sunday, my last day before restarting treatment, we headed over to Wells to meet a friend who was holidaying nearby. We had last seen her 8 years ago, so it was a good time with a wander around the historic centre and then coffee and cake at a street café. As ever, there was the 800lb gorilla in the room, but we didn't waste time dancing around it and I updated her on everything to present.
And so to Monday, and the 1st dose of pills. The regime is 5 days on, 2 off, 5 on, 16 off. The "on" days involve 5 pills twice a day. Thankfully they are not the size of horse tranks, and with a film coating, they also don't taste horrendous. Two pluses of this treatment line v the the IV delivery is 1) no hornet sting atropine injection, and more welcome 2) no steroids to screw up days of sleep. The first few days have passed with little in the way of adverse effects. Sure, as I am typing this I feel as though I am taking something that might not fully agree with me, but I haven't been laid out as yet.
This week I have received a couple of messages from friends to check in, and as might be expected, they start on a theme of "just read your post, don't know what to say". As always, that's totally fine by me. I prefer people to be honest. It IS an incredibly awful and shitty situation, and I do struggle to hold it together at times, but that is no reason for people to feel they have to walk on eggshells around me.
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