There have been a few points over the last nine months at which the pace of my recovery has not matched my un realistic expectations. I have had to learn to slow down at times and accept each small step, however tiny, as progress. As time goes by, I am better understanding the impact of everything that has happened since July when that first cut was made and a fair slice of my innards were whipped out. I have had to learn to be a patient patient.
So this week I wasn’t entirely surprised to hear that the results from my recent scan weren’t 100%, definitively clear. I didn’t really expect them to be, as life is never ever that simple is it? But it would have been nice for those around me to have been able to have had a bit of good news to smile at. Apparently, this isn’t unusual and isn’t something we should fret about (the scan results, not my family’s lack of smiles). The scan has probably picked up some of the jiggery-pokery that is going on inside me as a consequence of the operation and therefore the medical bods cannot be wholly sure that all is well. As my super-duper oncologist reminded me, I shouldn’t underestimate the impact of the treatment on my physical state and it will take time to get back to normal. Frustrating, but it is what it is.
So, I go back in three months for another scan and we will see how things stand then. In the meantime I am continuing to recover from the side-effects of the chemotherapy. Fingertips and feet are still a bit numb and energy levels are much better than they were. Improvement is slow, but improving it is.
Since the end of my chemotherapy I have been having the occasional glass of wine and the odd beer and all has been well. However, last night I discovered that my tolerance to wine and whiskey isn’t what it once was and the after effects are seriously affecting my ability to write this piece. In fact they are seriously affecting my ability to do anything!