Post-chemo days

I am alright but not right to put it in a nutshell. I feel quite cheerful which is a good start and don't actually feel ill as such. There is no doubt though that the nasty chemicals are trying to get me down. I know that the 11 anti-nausea tablets I take each day are working away because I can feel them. It's like a skirmish going on in my stomach, the slight, sometimes more, feeling of sickness is never far away and it sort of gurgles like indigestion sending warning messages up the tubes. The tablets are winning you feel, but the chemo is there just waiting to catch you out.

It's a bit the same with the tiredness; I feel OK, I go to cut down some dead stuff in the garden, or climb up to the top floor for some reason and realise I can't do it for long. Something happens around my hips, deep inside my legs and it's no go. As this is not far from the gurgly stomach I feel there is a revolt going on below my waist (that is the bit that sticks out most between breast and hips isn't it?). It's worst if I try and bend at said waist, all hell threatens to break out then.

Finally and sadly my recorder playing is suffering and I may not make it to this year's proms after all. It's the breathing, you would think old Leio would have done his darnedest by now to get my lungs down but he is saying chuck that chemical at me and you will regret it in the pulmonary region. He is right so I am puffing and panting even more.

These are all side-effects described on the chemical warfare leaflets so I glory in being the norm. The leaflets also remind me I am toxic for seven days and that my bodily fluids are definitely a no-go area. I think I might get one of those hazardous waste signs and stick it on my new headdress it can only serve to impress.

Today the challenge is to visit my niece as it's her birthday, do the shopping and then make a proper Sunday dinner for Luke, Aleks and the girls. Luckily that just means chucking a piece of meat in the oven and peeling a few veg and even I can manage that. I will be helped by my trusty sous chef, Stewart, of course; that's him over there the one in the nice orange overalls and the protective mask.