Yes yes, I know, I have been lazy in recent weeks. After getting a couple of messages from friends on the lines of "How are you? Haven't seen a post in a while." I figured I needed to pull my finger out and post an update. And for those that did message me, I took no offence whatsoever, in case you were worried.
Lock-down has continued without significant changes since the end of May. I enjoyed the 2 weeks treatment break, before commencing on an unknown number of cycles of FOLFIRI (the drug cocktail I started on last summer). I would like to say that I used this time to improve my guitar playing, baking and pasta making, but each of those statements would be a barefaced lie. So I'll come clean and say I spent my free time doing very little except trying to achieve one of my lock-down goals of re-watching every Seinfeld episode.
After bloodwork and a pre-assessment call with my favourite oncologist, treatment restarted on 12 June. It had been a few weeks since I had been to the hospital, so I saw a few changes in their coronavirus protocols. Basically involves hand sanitiser, wearing a mask, and being walked into the treatment area by a nurse when called. It all felt very safe, which given the situation, was heartening. I got various waves and hellos from the nurses, was put in a chair, and then back to the old routine. The switch from FOLFOX to FOLFIRI meant the return of the atropine shot. When it was time, I gripped the arms of the chair and waited for the pain. Oddly, I barely felt it. A huge win for the good guys. The rest of the cycle passed without incident. Unfortunately the ward has not changed it menu since I was last in: Friday lunch time is always cheese and cauliflower soup, which smells awful, and I always pass up the offer. The next 48 hours, hooked up to the slow release pump, didn't cause too much in the way of side effects. Sure, I had the expected sleep disruption, but nothing else. So far so good.
Fast forward to 2 weeks later for cycle 2. It went generally the same: no reaction to the atropine, the malodorous soup, the great care from the nurses. After the hospital visit we stopped at M&S for my first visit to a shop since the end of March. It went OK: to be honest, a M&S in a relatively small market town in Somerset is not Oxford Street on the first day of the Christmas Sales, so we were not expecting chaos. Their demographic is heavily skewed to middle-aged ladies (the majority wearing masks), many of whom would have also been isolating, so a safe space. By the time we got home I was feeling a bit under the weather, and crashed for a few hours. By bedtime I was still feeling rough, but after bringing back up my dinner and tea, I was feeling stacks better. This was only the 2nd time in 16 cycles of chemotherapy that I had been sick, so as unpleasant as it was, life could be worse. As with the previous cycle, the only other issue was lack of sleep, and this time it was Tuesday before I stopped feeling like I was walking about in a daze.
Aside from treatment weekends, life has been trundling along with little incident. The football season has restarted, and Bristol City have done their level best to scrape through the bottom of of barrel of inept performances by losing each of their 4 games, some of them in extraordinarily abject style. I think I am done for this season, it is very hard to care. The only other change of note is that we have started to venture out and visit others. Nothing major, only to see a school friend and his family, and my sister and niece. In both cases we distanced in the garden, didn't go into the house (aside from one no-touching-anything dash to the bathroom, where all doors were opened in advance). As you might expect, it was nice to actually see friends and family in the flesh as opposed to via a Zoom call.
Work has actually been busy in recent weeks. I have tried to keep it going as much as possible, with the caveat that now and then I need to collapse for an hour or so. My boss continues to be incredibly supportive, as do all of my colleagues. For that I feel blessed, since I am sure other people, with a similar situation, may find themselves is work-situations that are less favourable.
This past weekend saw the reopening of pubs and restaurants in England. Did I go? No. Do I have any intention of going in the coming weeks? Also no. As one of the shielding millions, I consider it way too early to risk putting myself in harm's way after doing the 3+ months of isolation. Maybe my view will change, we'll see. We did notice that one of our favourite local pubs reopened, and a visit there may be viable if the beer garden has room, but for now, I'll stick to home turf.