Family, Friends and Travel
I’m still pondering about what I’m never going to be able to do. Stupid really, as I would probably never have done any of the stuff in question anyway, but knowing that I might not be able to do something makes me tearful. That said, these are often fleeting thoughts that come to me out of the blue when I see or hear something that brings back a memory of some sort. For example, I see a picture of a lion and know I’ll never visit the African bush again. In fact, I don’t think I will be travelling anywhere again. I just can’t comprehend that. Also, I may have to undergo all sorts of treatment until every option is exhausted and I have to admit that the thought of falling sick in another country fills me with dread.
If my life revolves around chemo and isolation then one has to ask: ‘What’s the point?’ I want to be with Rob, that’s the point - the only one now.
I asked Rob if he was OK spending every day with me and not meeting anyone else. He said that he was quite happy to spend all his time with me and I believe him. As always, he has his daily routine and seems content. This gives me comfort.
Will I ever see my family again who live in the UK? I’m also terribly sad that some Vietnamese/French friends, who live in Ho Chi Minh City with their two small children, will not be visiting us as planned. I was excited about the prospect of seeing them again and I’m unhappy that this may never happen.
Despite all these negative thoughts, I’m feeling a little better each day. I don’t mean I can jog or do star jumps, but I can walk around the harbour, cook lunch and do other small chores. Does that mean my chemo is ‘wearing off’ or is my body getting used to it? I hope to feel this good until my next chemo session. The only other medication I take is paracetamol. I usually swallow a couple of tables in the afternoon, when I get a headache. However, I haven’t suffered nausea and I still have a healthy appetite.
Another issue is sleep. I often wake up around 2.30 am. Sometimes I get up, make tea and read for a while. I only take a sleeping tablet if I’m desperate.
Last week, when I told my next-door neighbour I had ovarian cancer, she was visibly upset and I was sorry that I had broken the news to her. This week she brought me a chocolate cake and some lovely oranges from her garden. She offered to clean, wash and cook for me. How incredibly kind!
The photograph is of my brother, Mark, and I in Venice.
