It has to be said

Damn, this has to be said. I keep forgetting. Now, while I remember, wuickly:

I have come home to die.

Well, actually. I came home on Mon-die.

To a chorus of groans... 

Lmao :-)

half blind. half deaf. dying of cancer.
so what?
notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com :-)

does Deb worry?

Does Deb worry? you bet :-(

I've just swallowed my five morning pills. Well. three plus one split in half. So few, barely worth a mention. Except that I can't swallow pills. Never could.

Give me one pill, several glasses of water. the water will be swallowed and the pill still in my mouth.

We've found that pills in yoghurt does work, eventually.

I count the pills as they go down, make sure I get them all.

The yoghurt is on a saucer... when "finished" I lick the saucer, just in case I still missed one.

When our cat needed pills it would eat all round the pill, we had to physically push the pill into its throat. I'm not quite that bad. Yet.

Anyway. yes: Deb is worried.

Yesterday on our first little adventure out in the car. she reverses, as usual, down the drive. Scrapes across the brick letterbox.

Gets out to check the damage and leaves the engine on. The car starts rolling further down the drive.

Worse yet... I just sit there. So non compos that I do not even think of grabbing at the handbrake.

All ends well, except for a new scrape on the car. Deb goes back to good driving, I open my eyes, all is back to normal safe standards.

Interesting: a couple of years ago Deb spent a night in hospital. I drive to pick her up. Pretty much the same story -- I scrape the side of the car against a concrete pillar in the hospital carpark. I'm worried about Deb more than parking the car.

Is Deb worried?

Yes.

Me? yes, a bit worried. But... so what.

Deb will be okay. Deb and the boys assure me: Deb will be okay :-)

Dr Nick Lethbridge / Consulting Dexitroboper

===

We know that the nature of genius is to provide idiots with ideas twenty years later... Louis Aragon

..Dying for you to Read my blog: notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com

Even more normal

I need to catch up on some emails.small steps for my life which is not cancer.

Note to self: yes, I am still living and there is life beyond cancer. A good, interesting life. Remember that!

Some of these emails will be to strangers. Do they need to know why I prefer email to phone? Why there is the occasional wild typo? Why I may be in a hurry?

I update my email signature...

Then:

Ask our tax accountant if I need to do anything special. Tell her who to contact if it's not me.

Keep in touch with my rogaine co-setter. Make sure that he's okay with final setting details. Tell him that my pwmapapp will be available. Whether it is worth using -- I volunteered to set largely to get a solid test of the app.

Attempt to set up a media contact. In October there's a major tourism conference in Perth. An ideal time to push for a media story about my app. Which is really aimed at tourism.

I have no real hope but... it's a (very) small chance and... not to be missed. 

Right. I also want a contact on the Tourism WA board. And kings Park board. More people I can, try to, talk to about pwmapapp.

A quick response about an investment property.

An email to my ranting blog, the one that lets me rant without annoying deb :-)

Finally...

Wake up at 3am. Update this blog. Document the small steps if the day, perhaps take some more steps. Document it all so that I can stop thinking about it.

Consider snoozing on this comfortable sofa...

Till 6am, when deb will finally wake up and it will be time for breakfast.

At the end of the day the score is,

Reality zero.

Blind optimism. Very high, as usual.

Almost the end of a very normal... okay, normal for me... day and night.

Phew :-)

Oh, that's right... not yet the end.

I want to contact Hemp, the legalise wannabis party.

Push some ideas. Ideas that will help them. Ensure that I, and other non-users, can support the party. And, of course, my ideas will help me.

Now... is that the end of the day?

half blind. half deaf. dying of cancer.
so what?
notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com :-)

Second shopping

In the afternoon we go to the Forum, for the "main" shopping.

The same cautious approach as for the grocer's  but with extra adventure.

First, the library. Deb leaves me, all alone ;-) as she goes to the library to get books.

No worries. I lean on a post and totally fail to fall over :-)

Inside, we stop for coffee and cake. Deb is able to pick up a loaf of bread while I stay at the table.

Very small advances. Back towards a more normal life.

As I'm typing I think, not "recovery". Never recovery. But it's great to feel more normal. To do, ever so slowly, normal things.

I like to buy a Lotto ticket each week. Just one. The ticket sits in my pocket for a week. With the thought that, maybe, I am carrying a million dollar ticket. Until the next week, when I find that I have lost. And buy the next.

This week, as usual I think, this could be my million dollar winner.

Then I wonder... will I live long enough to even spend my million dollars?

Now I realise.. of course I will have time to spend a million dollars :-)

Quite the adventurous day.

Yes, tiring.

But so very enjoyable.

half blind. half deaf. dying of cancer.
so what?
notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com :-)

A Taste of Normal

Thursday is our day for the weekly shopping.

Do I dare even leave the house?

I take it all step by step.

At first I think... I'll sit at home all day. Let deb go out and do all the shopping. Let's pretend that this is stage one, prove to Deb that I can be safely left alone at home for a few hours. Give deb at least the freedom to get back to real life.

Deb goes for a morning run.

By the time she returns, I have decided that I can at least go with her to the first shop. I can always decide to stay in the car. Or sit and wait outside the shop.

See? Small easy steps, each with the option of avoiding the next.

Meanwhile, I emailed Daphne the oncologist. Asking, if I move around -- am I likely to aggravate my tumour? I'm less worried about the swelling, it's a side effect, though dangerous. I do not want to increase blood flow -- and set off a nasty reaction from the tumour.

I really am analytical. Worried. Planning. Worried -- but not in a panic... not unless advised to panic.

Luckily Thursday is daphne's day to work. Her reply comes before we set off for the shop. Yes, she even recommends... that I try a bit of *Gentle* exercise. With Deb, with the zimmer.

We drive to the grocer's. 

Deb fetches a shopping trolley, as a zimmer-substitute.

The zimmer is for balance not support. I can balance on the trolley. Or on deb, if necessary.

It's all very cautious. Carefully considered in advance. One very small advance at a time.

It all works.

Deb shops, I follow with, pushing, balanced on, the trolley. Deb does everything else.

It is, as deb comments... quite the little adventure for me:-)

And it is such a great pleasure to be -- even in such a limited fashion -- outside the house.

Even, briefly -- outside in the fresh air (of the shop's car park.

Freedom!

Then home again. For deb to put away the groceries. And for me to sit, and sleep... after the excitement of my morning.

I'm not exhausted but, yes... it was difficult.

Well worth it.

half blind. half deaf. dying of cancer.
so what?
notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com :-)

Shift in attitude

Here's the thing: I am now facing real death.

For seven years it has been *definite* death. My GBM4 is said to be terminal, aggressive, incurable.

Still, easy enough to deny, ignore or cope with.

With no deadline, just past records which give life expectancy from 18 months to, perhaps five years.

After five years, well... I've been laughing. Very easy to ignore ( though not forget) reality.

Anyway, once I passed 70 years old I felt, that's a good lifetime of years :-)

And suddenly, my life is measured in... still uncertain! but a lot less.

Because the cancer is now very active. And it is active in an area of brain which *will* kill me.

Very hard to ignore.

Remember those "death doulas"? They have *never* ever faced their own, definite death. How could they possibly know what it is like?

Well, I now know what it is like.

[End of rant]

A bit scary but, not so bad. Worse than the last years, yes but, well...

And of the actual moment of death... I still know nothing. Because I have not yet been there.

I hope to add a bit of understanding, if I'm able.

But I'm not going to charge money for services for which  I have as little real understanding as anyone else.

Now... end of rant, really :-)

half blind. half deaf. dying of cancer.
so what?
notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com :-)

Bladder half full

I'm spending a lot of time analysing peeing and pooing.

Well, why not? It's a topic which fascinates nurses. But no-one explains it. Not to my satisfaction, anyway.

Today the pallies ask, of course, about the current state and recent changes to my peeing and pooing.

I mention my interest in "double-voiding" and what I do about it.

The doc has clearly considered the issue. And even seems slightly interested in my approach. So, time to document...

There's a lot, perhaps too much for one post. But I'll start.

On my first stay in hospital, years ago that is, the nurses would measure the volume of urine in my bladder.

I've just been for a pee, so, zero? Wrong!

Every measure showed up to a cupful of urine in my bladder.

I'd go to the toilet,  pee again... still urine in my bladder.

Not good, according to the nurses.

Years later, I heard the term double void: finish peeing -- then immediately pee again.

As if... no use at all. Not without further analysis, anyway.

It's a problem worthy of, my level of, analysis.

As I expected... too much 

For one post.

Deb is now awake. I'll post this much. Get back with possibly many more peeing topics in separate posts.

Later.

My body is a temple to health and fitness.
but there is a devil-worshipper in the temple: notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com :-)