While I’ve been pragmatic about my cancer, it is what it is after all, it’s hard not to be frustrated that is struck at about the same time I was at my fittest.
I’d shifted seven stone over eighteen months. A solo visit to Madrid last year found me almost floating around that marvellous city, eating up the miles. And then the attack on my bones began.
Today I wake up with slightly less pain than yesterday, having enjoyed ten hours sleep. But my four drug pain-killer combi had been used in full force. Along with an attempT to stay still to minimise twists on whatever’s triggering the pain inside.
A call to the hospital says max out your painkillers and we’ll see you Monday. I try to avoid tramadol and amytriptoline during the daytime as I don’t want to sleep or feel like a zombie. So paracetamol and ibuprofen it is. The latter may get replaced by my naproxen in four hours.
The reality is I can hardly move unless I’m drugged up. Hopefully my visit to the podiatrist this afternoon will coincide with a parking space right outside! Walking isn’t fun.
For now though, all I can do is medicate and suffer. And hope it just fixes itself within a few days. I’d rather be in good nick for those Vegas flights.