Today the moons were all in alignment, the sun was shining, Little Simon was behaving and my bike was beckoning.
I’ve been talking about going out on the bike for quite some time, but that’s the point, it has been talk. Today was the day to make good all the talk.
To be fair to me I was uneasy about bouncing around on a mountain bike without any form of additional support for the bag, it doesn’t bare thinking about, no, lets not go there.
My newly acquired ‘support’ now means that I can enjoy a fulfilling life giving me the ability to ride a bike, scuba dive, rock climb & play the piano, none of which with the exception of the bike I could do before.
Lycra cycle pants, stoma support and muffin top, yeh, its all ‘man’.
There was a feeling of intrepidation getting on the bike for the first time, ‘would it hurt?’
Would something go ‘twang? all very real concerns considering. The first mile went like a breeze, past the golf course which was unusually quiet (Mr Boot..) through to ‘sheep mile’.
Foolishly I took my eye off the road, glancing across to the moors which still have the last vestiges of snow I missed the massive pothole that had appeared in a mettled part of the ride.
Too late , the front wheel went in unceremoniously as I slipped off the seat onto the crossbar sandwiching my Crown Jewels equally between ‘Port and starboard’. Thankfully my tongue was firmly embedded in my mouth as the voracity by which my jaw snapped together would have dissected it for sure.
It was neither of these that shook me though, no that prize went to the gravitational ‘G shock’ on my internal giblets as moving on an horizontal trajectory they were suddenly subjected to a vertical drop. Imagine slinging a 3 tangerines in a pair of tights and you are getting close.
Several minutes of casting doubts over the pot holes parentage and gesticulating at it in a Basil Faulty styley was restorative justice for me. I got back on the bike and continued.
Eventually I retuned home, intact, in one piece, not requiring CPR or major corrective surgery to my ‘innards’.
It was noticeable that unlike before surgery I’m still not ‘match fit’. It’s not bad, but that burning sensation in the larger muscles of the legs that ordinarily I would get on a longer ride I experienced on this one. Similarly my heart rate was elevated on what would otherwise be a gentle ride. This is just a start though, like other parts of my recovery I will build on this in preparation for chemo in a few weeks time.
Tomorrow I must administer my suppositories. Oh deep joy Simon, cant wait.
You see the problem with old Jonny Colon is that it thinks that it still has a role in life. And so it hasn’t figured out yet its not being used, and like you (Im assuming) I get the urge to go for a poo. But here’s the rub, I cant you see because it not connected. Simples.
What can happen eventually is that the waxy mucous that naturally occurs in the colon can form a ‘candle’ (no not literarily, it doesn’t have a wick!) that can need some encouragement to help it out. That’s where I am currently.
It’s not the administration of the device that concerns me, no its the thought that if it goes in it wont ever come out.
Don’t worry you wont be seeing any photos with this one!