I wake up in something of a haze. The amitriptyline is the most likely cause. Minor rumblings of sciatica down the right leg respond well to the drug. Cognitive brilliance is pretty much wiped out by it.
Ive no idea how long passes as I drift into and out of sleep. Thanks to the Bell’s palsy my nose is running. I nearly knock over a range of drugs and water to reach a tissue. The Bell’s palsy won’t kill me but it’s been an unhelpful swine while I’ve been facing into bigger things. I remind myself I need to find a driver for Friday’s eye appointment in Huddersfield.
I lift myself carefully out of bed. My body core is weak and I’ve strained it with similar manoeuvres in recent days. But once I’m sat up I start the day with two paracetamol. I’m reluctant to do daytime opioids. But if things get bad I will.
I get a message from my stepdaughter checking when I get my biopsy results. 10th May I think. Roughly 18 months after diagnosis. Half of those who were diagnosed at the same time as me were dead within four months. While I don’t feel lucky, I do appreciate being given the chance to live a little more life. I refuse to become bitter about something I can’t control.
I haven’t eaten many breakfasts recently. Today a lemon ice lolly is more interesting than the Coco Pops. I’ve lost more weight which is probably not good for me. The fruit bowl may supply lunch. Paul, friend and landlord, will doubtless cook me a half decent tea.
I’m really wobbly when I walk. This is strange as the last pelvic scan suggested stronger bones. But I often walk around the house with a walking stick now. Oncobabe fears me breaking bones. She’s certainly scared me. A bit of cancer, fine. Spending my last few months with broken hips waiting for the cancer to kill me isn’t a prospect that appeals.
The strained back reminds me I should probably rest today. The problem is I’ve done a lot of resting recently. I’d prefer to get out, but getting around just tires me. Building my strength up for Saturday’s big football match at Northampton is the target. Lose by nine goals and Oldham are relegated. Get a result worse than Rochdale and the trap door to League Two also opens. Don’t get mullered and do as well or badly (or better) as Rochdale and season 22 in League One begins in August.
Back to bed. I’m still unsure about the daytime drugs. At least the sciatica is resting, for now.