The 24th of May.
The shoulders are protesting. This morning I really couldn’t see how I was going to manage a gym session. My back, elbow and shoulders were all sore, and I generally felt somewhat delicate. Had I not been going to see Vlad, I wouldn’t have gone in.
I wrote up a blog post, then went back upstairs to try and have a rest and get in the right frame of mind. When I went to make my lunch, I also looked for some co-codamol but the box in my drug bag was empty and I didn’t have the impetus to search the cupboard for more. I just made myself a sandwich and got a brownie, but by the time I’d got to the living room to sit down, my back was excruciating. We rang the clinical nurse specialists to see if they could find out the results of my x-rays, but none were available so have to ring back in the morning.
My session with Vlad was booked in for 2, but I was early and his previous client was slightly late, so I did 15 minutes of weights before we got started. I explained more about my lungs and all my diseases, then we did some stuff on the mat. Calf raises, some yoga, squats (ugh), press ups, sit ups, leg raises, all sorts of business. By the end I was pooped – he made me sweat. Nobody makes me sweat. I am to practise being mindful of my breathing and some meditation. I think he can teach me some things, so I will give him a go.
Becky came round to meet the kittens briefly, and confirm our plans for dessert café on Saturday. It’s going to result in a sugar coma.
The 25th of May.
Today everything hurts, so I can’t differentiate between vaccination and PT pain. I am very stiff.
It has been a rather uneventful day. This morning I spoke to Nicola, a CNS, about the results of the x-rays, but the reports haven’t been done yet so she was going to chase them up but I don’t know when we’ll hear back. I spent a couple of hours letting the kittens run around which they used to chase each other and fight. They refuse to be lap cats yet. I shall have to train them.
After lunch (and the surprise series finale of Criminal Minds, argh), I went upstairs to work on what I’m going to say to the students at Anthony Nolan next week. However, I got really engrossed in my notes because I’d got to the admission in Halloween 2008 and that’s when it all got interesting. It was very difficult – at times I had to stop reading because it was a horrific period in my life. I only kept going because I knew it got better. I found out that when my DNA was confusing, the doctors were actually really concerned about the cancer coming back again, but I wasn’t informed because I was so depressed, it was decided I couldn’t handle it. Thankfully, because I am excellent, my body refused to succumb to what was expected, and instead I am “exceptional…in medical literature”, as written by Mark Velangi when I was denied funding for photopheresis.
So instead of practising my talk, I was absorbed by the story of the impossible girl.