Here we go again

Woke to a high temperature (37.9). Waiting for the chemo clinic to open so I can phone for advice. I may have to go into hospital again to get checked over.

This is getting boring. They must be sick of the sight of me by now. And I'm certainly sick of the sight, smells and sounds of that place.

Racking my brains to think of where I could have picked something up; the most likely place is the doctors' waiting room, where I went to renew my fit-note. That involved spending half an hour in an airless space with people coughing around me.

Perhaps for the sixth and final session, I should live in an oxygen tent like Michael Jackson, and only go out wearing a mask. I've still got a SARS mask they gave me at Hong Kong airport, I've also got this this rather fine feline article made for the Venetian ball scene. Some say it's sinister.

Not long to go now. Thursday 14th is my last chemo treatment - three weeks after that I can put an end to this neurosis about germs.

Reunited

This is Oscar with his namesake Oscar 2 - who has recently come home after spending the past 18 months on my desk at work.

My boss brought him round last week with the rest of my personal effects. I've now officially left that Department and transferred back to the bit of Government I worked in before (for complicated reasons involving austerity measures and office closures.)

He also brought gifts, a card, and lots of nice Spanish food, so we had a little leaving lunch here. Thankfully chorizo is one of the things I can still taste.

Oscar 2 is full of beans, and handy for throwing at people. In a previous workplace, he was banned from my workstation because he didn't conform to the clear desk standard. You were allowed one photograph but no soft toys.

Talking of former colleagues, the Nottingham Post is coming to interview me tomorrow for a feature for breast cancer awareness month. Their feature writer is a girl I used to work with 20 years ago when I was a reporter. It will be good to catch up. They're sending a photographer too - better spruce up the wig!

Highs and lows

The mid-point between two chemo sessions is called the nadir - which means low point. It's when blood count is most depleted and energy levels hit rock bottom. It's where I am now. Even small amounts of exertion send my pulse rate racing; getting up the hill in Woodthorpe Park is out of the question. I take comfort in the knowledge that I only have to do this one more time.

Recently when I did manage to struggle up the hill, and flopped down exhausted on the bench at the top, I noticed the man sitting next to me was equally out of breath. 

"Can't believe I used to run up this hill!" I said.

"Me too!" he answered.

Turns out he's a guitar maker who developed lung problems through breathing in wood spores. We were both on steroids so we compared notes.

Funny how through this cancer experience I've connected with more strangers than I ever did while at work, even though my job-title is communications manager!

Accounting for taste

Chemotherapy messes with your taste buds. In some people, they go completely, so eating becomes merely a mechanical exercise with no enjoyment involved.

In my case, sense of taste has become progressively toned down. I have a metallic, acrid tang in my mouth all the time. Eating provides some relief, but is usually a disappointment because most things don't taste as they ought to.

Favourites like bananas and chocolate taste like plastic. Some stronger flavours - ginger, pineapple and a few spices - manage to partially break through, but there is one thing which tastes EXACTLY as it should, and as it always has, and that is Marmite.

Nutritious, sharp and mouthwatering, it cuts through all that chemo crap.  Love it or hate it, thank God I love it. Marmite is masterpiece.

Guess what's on toast for breakfast!

Bugwatch

It seems as though the whole world is sneezing, sniffing, snivelling, right now; and I am neurotic to the point of paranoia about it.

I used to think: "I won't catch that' and was largely right. Now I know a single cold germ could land me in hospital.

If anyone coughs near me I feel violated. How DARE they?

Back on temperature watch after a scary 38 degree reading this morning. It's gone back down since but JP is on standby to take me to hospital if it spikes again.

Have been feeling under the weather the last couple of days. And there is lots of weather;  mostly a grey, oppressive drizzle.

Never mind, we had some glorious sunny days out on the boat last week. We even slept on it twice.

Lookalikes (everyone's a winner)

Ed the Red

Ronnie the Rocket

Has anyone noticed the striking resemblance between Red Ed, newly elected leader of the Labour party and snooker ace Ronnie (the Rocket) O'Sullivan?

Both were winners yesterday.

Could they by any chance be related?

Brothers perhaps?

Wedding bells (updated with pics)

It's a day for happy couples and a night for happy coupling! Emma and Rog tied the knot today. They have had a bright cold day for it up on the North Yorks coast. Emma doesn't mind the cold, being a Yorkshire lass. Nor does Roger, being from well North of the border - hence the tartan.

I beat Hello to first picture publishing rights.

Emma's Mum sent me the order of service to follow remotely, so Rob and I sang the hymns. (He sang Bread of Heaven in Welsh!)

Had my health and immune system permitted, I'd have been there, doing a reading:

"Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things......so faith, hope, love abide, but the greatest of these is love" 1 Corinthians 13.

Emma's brother stepped in for me.

It's not often you see the bride playing a euphonium!

Now they'll be on the champagne.

Have a great day, Cruton and Dodge! I'm with you in spirit xxx

Pics: Jim Lee