It’s now three weeks since my last chemotherapy treatment and the body is slowly getting back to ‘normal’. The side effects that I had experienced are beginning to wane. Fingers and feet are still a bit numb, but I can at last enjoy a cold drink and I don’t need to sit with a fluffy blanket on me to keep warm.
I have experienced, over the past few weeks, a rather strange occurrence that I thought I should share. You will no doubt have heard stories of people who have lost limbs, who report that they have dreams about their limbs returning or have phantom pains from the missing limb as if it were still present. Well I have had a similar experience.
Those of you that have been with me from the start of this, will know that I have lost all of my lower bowel and rectum as part of the operation to remove my tumour. In short, I no longer have an arsehole. I now exit in to a bag attached to my generous tummy and so have no need to sit and poop.
So you can guess my surprise when, on a couple of occasions, I have experienced a wonderful dream in which I enjoy, with great enthusiasm, the act of sitting on the bog and having a good old fashioned, water-splashing plop. I rarely recall my dreams, so it has been even more interesting that these dreams have stayed with me until the morning. Clearly, my body and mind are missing the old-fashioned downpipe and are still adjusting to the side-exit method. Whereas I am perfectly adjusted to the bag for life.