This morning, I woke up feeling …… hungry. Dare I say, normal. Disregard the fact that it was just after five and still dark. I was on the hunt for some food. Something specific.
My rising coincided with the return of the night herons from their nocturnal feeding grounds. Quiet and purposeful in their arrival, three of them moved from branch to branch until they found a roosting spot that was just right. They are stoic birds, used to ignoring the chirpers, mynah birds and lorikeets and other honey eaters who would have them move on and out of their neighbourhood.
As the sun rose, I photographed some of the lorikeets feeding in the grevilleas.
Then off to the stove, where oats and bananas with yoghurt topping became my morning feast.
Nearly four hours on and the burst of energy is over. The fact that it was there, even temporarily, lets me know that my body is starting to rally during this first cycle. Go you good thing!
I’m off for a nap.
It’s early on Saturday morning and already the world feels a better place than it did yesterday. For one, I’ve logged on to the computer, brain cells armed with the goodness of a lady finger banana. It’s a cooler, less humid day than yesterday. Hydration rules!
I felt like these flowers yesterday, hanging, but not so loosely; keeping front of mind the realisation that to pay attention to what my body asks for is the best option.
That meant flow. More sleeping than waking. Knocking some back pain out of the park. A bit slower than it’s been thus far, making late notes about what is, what was, what will be.
My attention span was missing in action. Yesterday’s DA cryptic crossword waits in a pile of unsolved puzzles until the edge on my brain returns.
The appetite is hanging in there albeit in smaller quantities. Lunch was a piece of crumpet with peanut butter. Beef stew and ice-cream for dinner. Water has trumped wine and coffee as the beverage of choice – the detox you have when you’re not having a detox. 🙂
Yesterday was a 24 hour lesson about lights at the end of tunnels, a microcosm of what may be down the track. I can only hope that this student remembers this as, when and if the tunnel gets longer.
The first chemo infusion yesterday took away some of the mystery of what’s ahead, at least as far as the hospital days are concerned. Notwithstanding the pre-medications I’ve been taking since Monday, the medley of drugs began with steroids and anti-nausea meds, then culminated in 1 hour of Docetaxel and 30 minutes of Cyclophosphamide, shaken but not stirred.
I’m grateful for the fact that treatment is available on Tuesdays at our local hospital which means a short drive there and back. The first four hour session was longer than the next three will be, largely because we had to wait for the doctor to turn up. When he stops calling me ‘dear’ and insisting that I must be nervous, I may warm to him a little more. Perhaps by then I’ll be calling him ‘dear’.
The oncology nurses are on their game. They bring a bundle of competence, empathy, humour and no-nonsense to their work. It was really enjoyable to be in their company.
We left the hospital with the contents of the pharmacy and more permutations and combinations around the what ifs than I could possibly remember. Thank goodness I do good notes.
Apart from a short sensitive reaction from my nostrils at the end of the session, all went well and I was able to go home and have a regular meal accompanied by pharmaceuticals to prompt, the details of which I’ll spare you, a few bodily functions.
I rejected an offer of a glass of red wine with dinner. Yes I did. The two books I’m ‘reading’ at the moment are languishing on the bedside table as head on pillow has a higher priority.