Seeing the World

Sometimes things don’t go to plan.  The weekend just gone has been interesting, if not quite the chill out planned.

Reason for travel:  feed the tigers at Longleat.

Accommodation booked:  posh hotels with hot tubs.

The good news is, we got our free Hilton breakfast this morning.  The credit card being cancelled months ago didn’t matter.  It would be possible to pay £450, earn 30,000 Avios or other points , cancel card getting a £412.50 refund and enjoy a year of free Hilton breakfasts.

But why did we never make it to the hot tubs?

Problem one was the loss of poor Minnie on Saturday morning.  That delayed our departure and took the edge off the excitement of a few days away.

But the bigger problem was an unexpected side effect of my chemotherapy.  Positively, I’ve been off the morphine pills for a couple of weeks.  They, along with naproxen, have been unkind enough to give me quite severe constipation in the past.  This time I can only attribute being Elvised to the chemo.

Without wishing to get too detailed, not being able to go is bloody uncomfortable.  Taking laxatives is also a dangerous game.  Take too few and nothing happens.  Take too many and you have to restrict yourself to a two metre radius of the nearest lavatory for a good 48 hours.  Sitting in a public hot tub is a risk not worth taking.  Feeling good about yourself in the before and after moments is also quite difficult.

Still, all sorted for now.  Just not in a way that left me confident enough to strut my stuff in hot tub city while we were away.

There were good times on the trip, but Minnie and my discomfort were always too close to mind for fun to be the order of the weekend.

We did, however, get to see Clifton Suspension Bridge without jumping, much of Longleat including the Chilean Flamingos who I think were different to the ones I’d seen with Chris in Chile itself, and today’s mini trip was to Tewkesbury Cathedral.  To discover it’s not a cathedral at all but an Abbey.  Useful Benedictine clarification.

The odd highlight of the trip for me was observing the ridiculous behaviour of drivers in the safari park.  Weirdest animals of the lot.  “Sound your horn if you’re in trouble” the signs say.  If your window is stuck open in the lion enclosure this strikes me as a good idea.

In the zebra enclosure half a dozen stripey horses wandered in front of a car a few yards ahead of us.  Docile, no obvious dange.  The driver decides they’re in his way and that the best way to hurry them along is to sound his horn.  Genius!  You’ve paid £34.95 each to get them out of your way as quickly as possible?

Back home now.  Pondering how Chris can be on the Isle of Skye with Internet access inferior to that we had on Easter Island in the middle of the Pacific.

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With the Minnie deed done, we set out on the long drive south to a hotel somewhere near Bath.  Our base for a feed the Longleat Tigers experience.

After I’d exited employment in a “went off for a back operation and never returned” kind of way colleagues clubbed together to buy me the chance to feed the two female tigers at the south west’s main safari park.

Three spa hotel nights, paid for with freebies picked up from loyalty schemes.  A long, long drive.  Nearly running out of petrol.  And, while Rachel pondered her lost dog, chemotherapy constipation attacked me.  Despite numerous sachets of medication I simply can’t go.

Leaving the other half in the car park, a group of four of us headed off to the tigers in a zebra strip Land Rover.  I needed a special step to get in.  We drove off to the tiger enclosure and carried out our feeding instructions, ensuring both cats got the same amount of food and not poking any fingers through the bars.

It was a fun if relatively short experience.  Feeding through the top half of the sage achieved getting the cats to stand up.  Then it was done and we had the chance to go around the rest of the park.  Stomach cramps partially spoiling the rest of my morning.

Now for a big decision.  Do I risk going in the hot tub while my internal workings are in an awkward phase.

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Rachel’s dog Mnnie doesn’t tend to do much.  She’s knocking on sixteen years old so a centurion in doggy years.

She eats, pays a visit, wanders round in circles whining when tired and while accepting of affection and petting doesn’t exactly seek it out.  I’ve become immensely attached to the old thing.  Even when she goes after a more varied diet by knocking the kitchen bin over.

Alas, her time has come.  And for the first time in my life I’m close to a decision to put a dog down.  And it’s heartbreaking.  At least it’s not mine to make.

In recent weeks her ability to leap up onto furniture to snooze has become impaired.  In recent days her back legs have virtually given up, meaning she collapses as she walks around the place.  She’s now carried outside to pay a visit and when inside tends to lie sleeping sedately at the top end with a strange quivering passing through her hind legs.

She hates visiting the vet, so the vet has been summoned here.  A final act of kindness to save her the trauma of the short walk.  And while there are vague hopes that this isn’t the end the reality is going to be different.  She’s lived her life, chased her cats and I can’t see those ancient legs getting better.

I lost a couple of budgies and a hamster as a child.  Never had a pet as an adult.  This is a lot tougher than those childhood memories.  I’m not quite sure how dog owners cope with a moment that is almost inevitable though.  Very sad.  It’s amazing how much I think I’ll miss her.

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As part of last year’s efforts at international travel I splashed out £450 on an American Express Platinum Chargecard.  £450 was no bargain, but 30,000 Avios, lounge access for two at airports around the world (including half a dozen in Chile) and cooked breakfasts for two at Hilton hotels ensured it worked out at good value for money.  Especially when the game was up, my flying stopped and they refunded me £112.50.

This weekend sees me feeding the tigers at Longleat.  Three hot tub focused hotel nights too, paid for with free hotels.com nights and 15,000 of the Avios mentioned above.  Those Avios mean Hilton hotel Tewkesbury for a free night, hot tub access and an interesting possibility around breakfast.

I no longer have the Amex card.  Logically I’d assumed handing over cash for breakfast.  But my membership status remains set at Gold for Hilton, which was only offered for having the AMEX card.  And Gold members get free breakfast.

The possibility of saving the best part of £30 and getting another freebie appeals, even if my sense of fair play doesn’t think I should be eligible.

It’ll be infesting to see if they honour the freebie.  Morning sausage is so much nicer when you don’t pay!

Justgiving page

I don’t actually know if this is night 400 of my medically required taping down of my right eye.  But it’ll be close.  No medic told me it was necessary until a cancer nurse suggested it a month or two after Bell’s palsy set in.

Every evening I have to lubricate my eyeball and then utilise surgical tape, 25mm wide, to tape over the right eye.  Failure to do so leaves it itchy, sore and dry through the night.

I’d like to say I achieve closing the eyelid, but I don’t..  I have tried but it simply doesn’t work.  Instead I just cover the whole eye but it remains partially open.  No medic has ever observed my efforts, I’ve just found my own way.  Hopefully it’s correct.

Another part of my bedtime routine is testing myself for cancer pain.  The butt tumour still feels like it’s zapping by radiology was a success.  My right leg feels more mobile.  My limp less pronounced.  My shoulder still hurts a little but not a lot – the doctors never did bother to call me with the news on the X-Ray.  I assume the gradual reduction in pain is a positive thing.

Perhaps my fear of chemotherapy was unfounded.  But it’s still not a solution that promises survival into next year.  Still, minimal pain is good.  I won’t underestimate the value of that.

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Chris arrived in town on time and I managed to give him a tour of the gold post box from the 2012 Olympics before we headed for food.

Pizza Express is one of those places you don’t attend unless you have a series of vouchers and discounted gift cards.  Chris had done well to stock up on these and avoid what would have been a near £50 bill had normal pricing been payable!

He’s away for the next three weekends.  That’s opened up a chance for my tiger experience but he’s going to be missed.  He always lightens my mood and lunch was a good catchup.

My ear seemed to take precedence once we sat down.  Deaf in the right thanks to the Bell’s palsy, echoey in the left.  A near empty restaurant filled with music, a screaming baby and its own echoes as staff scraped chairs, tables and bar stools along the floor.

It was quite a tough experience but I enjoyed this extra time with the offspring, not least the fact he’d made a real effort to get over from Liverpool.  My mind pondered “when did desserts start costing £6 instead of £2.50” and the promised chocolate fudge cake was out of stock.  Gutted.

But we chatted happily, changed nothing in the world and ate well before he returned to Oldham to visit his Mum.

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