Another strange dream last night. I was trying to travel somewhere with a group of people but each time we came to the end of the road there was an ambush waiting. Soldiers with guns. I had to move fast in the opposite direction. This repeated itself several times. I kept forgetting about the troops and fell into the trap time and again. It was frustrating. Thinking about it I wondered if it was my difficulty in facing the side effects of the treatment. I keep trying to pursue my life, but come across these barriers to normal functioning.
Yesterday I tried going out on the bike. Despite the protection of gloves the pins and needles became intense. I stopped at the shop to buy a few things but couldn’t move my hands even to lock up the bike. In the supermarket it was agony just putting things into the basket. Then I came to the check out. I felt clumsy as I shakily attempted to extract a £10 note from a purse that was evading my grip. For someone who has always looked young for her age it is so difficult to feel old and doddery.
This is the lady who was told off for going up the staff staircase in her first job. On a day trip with the family to the fairground I was warned: “No, you can’t use the go-kart track. You have to be twelve years old.” I was thirty-four at the time and when I took off my hood and showed the cashier my wedding ring he was duly admonished! The children thought it hilarious.
When Rachel was about three, a salesman knocked on my door. I opened it to be greeted by the question: “Is your Mummy in?” I was so embarrassed I didn’t have the wherewithal to respond with a nonchalant: “No but my daughter is!” so I just closed the door.
Daniel has come to stay for a few days as he has half term. I watch him make a pumpkin pie in the kitchen. I have to go upstairs to lie down for half an hour as I feel nauseous, but fortunately by teatime I am recovered enough to try some.
Dan really lifts my spirits and makes me laugh. When I am with him it is hard to believe that there is anything wrong with me.
This morning Dan is returning to Leeds. I wake up with the predicted skin rash. It burns and itches. I look in the mirror at the unsightly eruptions in my normally clear skin. Will it reach the point where I need a paper bag over my head before I can leave the house? I resemble a Star Trek alien who has contracted Freighter Blight. Maybe tomorrow I will waken with the notorious forehead ridges and speaking fluent Klingon.
Hopefully I will see Dan again at Christmas, but what state will I be in by then? Can I really sustain this for six months?
Today I go for my second session with the trial drug. I have a chat with the research nurse, Minna, who reminds me of a vampire victim. She has a Transylvanian accent and looks terribly pale. Wasn’t Minna Harkness one of Dracula’s unfortunates?
She tells me that the neuropathy should not last for much more than a week and if it is still bad in a fortnight’s time they will lower the Oxaliplatin dosage. That is a relief. It is really important for me to maintain my every day activities. I am at the hospital longer than planned as my veins are initially in rebellious mode.
I am mortified when I get home. Not over the Chemo, or the Cancer. I have left my watch on the bedside table. Bizarre.
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