My my my, what a topsy turvy few days.
To be fair there have been some real pleasurable high points. Like most people (not everyone) we were caught up in the general feel good factor of the Royal Wedding. I’m going to declare my hand as a royalist here, not everyone agrees with the concept of a monarchy but I do.
Anyway the opportunity to have a focus on the day for entertaining took my mind away from the effects of the ongoing chemotherapy.
With the family around for Buck’s Fizz at breakfast and a BBQ at lunch the day was simply divine.
The sun shone and we all felt good about life.
Towards the afternoon I started to feel, well decidedly jaded, maybe it was the 5 glasses of Bucks Fizz? Mmmmmm spread or across the day this was highly unlikely.
As I laid on the bed I began to ache in my joints and was suddenly aware of a raging sore throat.
Clearly I had come back from last weeks work excursion with more than I had intended.
Bugger. This is not good. The last thing you need when on chemotherapy is any form of ‘bug’ you simply have no means to fight it. It also sends the medical teams into a tailspin and can result in you being admitted to hospital.
By Sunday I was seriously going down hill, the usual cold related symptoms but add that to the general malaise of chemotherapy and trust me you feel like you are dying. Nurse Cowls regularly took my temperature as this would decide whether I would have to be admitted, thankfully this was never enacted.
By Tuesday and with no improvement I reluctantly went to see the GP, despite my condition I try not to go to the doctors unless I absolutely have to. Following a thorough examination and extensive listening to my chest I was prescribed background antibiotics ‘for top cover’ .
More tablets to take every day, as if I don’t have enough already…
Inevitably it did go to my chest, and at the time of writing this blog I am still annoyingly coughing merrily away as Mrs C is trying to concentrate whilst working on her laptop.
I (we) we’re concerned, if I’m honest. At that height of my ‘unwellness’ I could not summon the energy to climb the stairs. I sat at the bottom like some child on the naughty step not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
By Thursday I was beginning to feel human again, this ain’t beating me folks, I can be a right stubborn sod when I choose to. Allowing a suitable time between morning chemo and suitable fluid intake I went out on my bike.
It is a challenge exercising , the depletion of red blood cells means the conversion of oxygen into the blood steam is less efficient, but the therapeutic benefits of being out on the moors in the sunshine far out-ways this medical challenge. It was only 6 miles, not exactly the Tour de France but for me it was a sense of achievement.
On returning home I laid on the settee in my cycling gear. Just a breather I thought…
2 hours later I woke up 😮
What a difference 4 days make