At present, I’ve been a week without cancer treatment.  No drugs to fight the nasty sod.  Unless you include the hempseed (cannabis) oil I’ve procured, but that clearly doesn’t make the slightest difference.

My shoulder has been attacked in that time.  My right side (lung?) is strained.  My ever troubled rump hurts more than ever as the cancer presumably grows.  It’s fair to say that the tramadol and amitriptyline have become a cornerstone of my medication.  But I don’t really want to sleep sixteen hours a day like I did yesterday.  But at least I don’t feel pain when I sleep.

This morning I made my early morning walk to pay a visit.  My legs felt like Bambi.  I’m not sure why they should, but handrails and walls came in handy as I visited the facilities.

Today I drive to the dentist, so I’ve not taken the stronger tablets.  Driving should be ok, but there’s a vague disclaimer and I don’t really want to mow down a line of school kids at a bus stop.  So minimal drugs for breakfast.  I can top up when I get home.

The NHS couldn’t find me a dentist that could see me before this week’s series of appointments.  So I need to go private.  Only an extra £11.  They can’t do any work on me at present, despite a huge gap in one of my upper teeth.  But hopefully they can tell me that the big hole caused by a missing filling is clean and safe for zometa and chemotherapy.

And radiotherapy Tuesday followed by chemotherapy Wednesday, after dental Monday, already makes me feel tired.

My usual Saturday routine wrecked me this weekend just gone.  Although there was a key difference.  Oldham actually won – the lucky brother in law and youngest nephew doubtless responsible.  A sweet offset to the usual defeat!

When the Bell Tolls