I still feel like I’ve been kicked by that horse.  But the sharp and pulsing pain is now just an uncomfortable reminder.  Experience tells me that the hours of darkness will reawaken it though.  I’m armed with opiates and water for when it does.

I don’t feel that I can risk travelling any great distances.  Wimbledon away is out of the question.  Whereas I felt like I didn’t want to travel to Oxford a couple of weeks ago, this is different.  Can’t. go rather than can’t be bothered.  They’ve had some good away wins when we’ve not made it this season.

I am really uncomfortable.  Pain is part of it.  Constipation is a big contributor too.  I want to go.  I can’t.  I’m worried that if I do go, my senses won’t tell me until it’s too late.  While untested, I currently sleep on a towel, just in case.

The prescribed sachets should free things up.  History tells me two a day isn’t enough.  Three a day is a six hour stop in the bathroom.  I might try two and a half, but it feels like a dangerous game to play.

I’m meant to be trying to maintain my weight.  But eating stuff when your gut is full isn’t easy.  Portions are small and will remain that way until my body, with help, corrects the problem.

Weekends should be fun.  This one might make smiling tough.

At least the cancer nurses have confirmed that they’ve actioned my radiotherapy request.  I assume that means Oncobabe will on Monday!