beware the invisible Cloud

It's been a difficult weekend. More specifically, Sunday morning was awful. More for Deb than for me. Sorry Deb :-(

But... back to Friday.

That is, I *think* this post should be, "back to Friday"... Normally I would look at the last blog post, see when that was sent. Today -- Monday morning -- the Telstra network is dead. So I can't just, look at the last blog post. Not on the desktop PC, anyway.

So I'm typing on the tablet. The tablet operates differently... in a way which makes it ideal for writing a travel blog... and which is useful when Telstra fails. The tablet doesn't seem to spell-check though, so I'll need to proof-read carefully. And of course it can't post to the blog till Telstra works again.

I can see the last few posts -- in my "Sent" box. I can *type* a new post. Just can't actually post it. The real internet -- is dead. No email in. No email out. No google searches. No web, no internet. No thanks Telstra.

So on Sunday -- with the network connection popping up for a few minutes then dying for a few hours -- I was angry. Cursing like... like someone who curses a lot. Because I really did want to "do things" that required an internet connection. And nothing useful would work.

Poor Deb. Sure, I was cursing the PC. The tablet. Telstra. The (lack of) internet. But Deb has to put up with me.

Sorry, I said, eventually. (After a few hours of afternoon sleeping. Having given up on having a working internet.) It's okay, said Deb, You're under stress. Yes I am. But this reaction is just me. The stress is due to network failure. I can't excuse it as disease-related. Though I will come back to that... Meanwhile:

It's all very well to work on "the Cloud". Until the Cloud disappears.

But for now -- in full knowledge that the Telstra network is dead, so the internet is inaccessible and any Cloud is invisible -- at least I can restrict my aims. I can type this post... just not post it.

Oh. And it's probably just as well that I *print* -- on *paper* -- my schedule of times for radiation treatment. And doctors' appointments. And which days for which drugs. I'd hate to do all that from memory.

===

So: back to Friday...

Lunch with Colin. I make it there by bus, very easy. As long as I'm not in a hurry... and the weather is fine for slow travel with plenty of waiting. Which it is.

A very pleasant lunch. Colin gives me a lift  home... Probably just as well, I fall asleep very soon after. Tiredness is one side-effect that I definitely do get! I also have the feeling that I may have been half asleep in conversation over lunch...

Saturday: The main event is orienteering. First of the summer series -- and close to home. Deb jogs round a Medium course, I walk round a Short. There's a threat of rain but no more than a few minutes of blustery mist.

It's good to catch up with fellow orienteers.

Sunday morning: enough said.

Sunday evening: family dinner, very pleasant.

===

Overall -- and more cancer-related:

This is a very ... flat ... time. Nothing much happening, just a routine of radiation and drugs. With extra radiation expected to start today. Despite being "routine" there is stress. (Not enough to justify my failed-internet--tantrums, though. That's just me. Proving that I'm pretty much as ever in my dislike of opaque-and-failing systems.)

I'm half way through a six week course of radiation. About to start a three week course of extra radiation. That's my understanding, anyway. The Genesis clinic are slow to volunteer information. Last I heard was during the pre-abdominal-radiation scan, from a scanning technician: The abdominal radiation will start on Monday... if nothing delays the planning.

I have a week's worth of appointments. No clear indication that it will include the new abdominal radiation. Only definite way to find out -- is to turn up. See what gets zapped.

Heh. I almost said, I wish they would provide current information by email. (I ask questions via email, the responses are generally by waiting till I next meet with the clinic doctor.) Email would be pointless anyway -- with emails failing to get through the dead Telstra network.

All seems routine. Unfortunately, this means that there is no sign of progress. (Oh, except that my hair is definitely falling out. In a small area. So now I at least know where my head is being zapped.)

I have three more weeks' of radiation. Then four weeks' of nothing. No radiation, no chemo. Then... another brain scan. Then a delay of who knows how long... After which I may be told whether or not anything has changed.

Meanwhile, I take drugs and get  radiated. And have no idea of the effects on my cancers. I can't even get it all off my chest by blogging -- because there is very little to blog about.

Same old same old.

For another seven weeks.

I may just go back to reading Gone with the Wind. A long and tedious book which I can read on this tablet. It used to be my brother's favourite book. I've only read a few chapters and I dislike the characters, the situation and what little plot has so far been revealed. Still... it's a very long book. Should last long enough for Telstra to get our internet connection working again.

===

Meanwhile: Deb contacted the Cancer Council. Who passed her on to some other group. Who meet regularly -- as cancer patients & carers -- to talk about... whatever. Deb will go to their next meeting, sometime next month. I mentioned it to  our sons, in case they may also be interested.

===

Now I'll save this. And post it if the internet ever returns.

====
Dr Nick Lethbridge / Consulting Dexitroboper
Agamedes Consulting / Problems? Solved.
====

"Philosophers have only interpreted the world, in various ways; the point is to change it." ... Karl Marx

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Now so much more than a simple holiday blog:  https://notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au :-)
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dreaming of memories

I have just woken up from a dream of grandmothers and aliens.

 

I'm being chased by dangerous aliens. What sort? No idea, I never see them. I go into a room which may -- potentially -- save me.

 

The room is my grandmother's bathroom.

 

This is a dream grandmother. A sweet, white-haired, happily smiling grandmother. I can't imagine such a delightful grandmother in my real family...

 

But in the dream, this is my grandmother's bathroom. Unused, untouched, since her death. Sparkling clean, of course. Various sweetly and gently scented soaps lined up, ready for use.

 

This bathroom is full of memories of my sweet, white-haired -- purely imaginary -- grandmother.

 

To escape the aliens, all I need to do is fill the bath, open some of the soaps, hop in the bath -- and I will be magically transported to a place of absolute safety. Transported down the plughole, apparently. But in and to absolute safety.

 

I can't do it.

 

I just cannot shatter the memories of my dear departed grandmother by using her bath. The bath that has not been  used since she died. That is still sparkling clean, surrounded by softly scented soaps, waiting for my grandmother to have another bath.

 

This bathroom is a shrine. A place of clear, sweet, fixed memories. A place which has been left untouched -- for years -- as a memorial to a dear, sweet, white-haired old grandmother.

 

Aaahhh... memories :-)

 

I can't disturb those memories. It looks as though I'm about to be destroyed by aliens.

 

Get in the bath, Deb tells me.

 

You're right, Deb was not there a minute ago. Now she is there. This is a dream.

 

Get in the bath. Get amongst the memories. Enjoy them, appreciate them. You may change them, they will still be good memories. Or, at least, they will still be memories.

 

Okay, Deb does not say all of that. She may say nothing at all, certainly no more than a word or two. We've been married long enough, there is no need for words, I know what Deb is saying :-)

 

I can preserve the memories of my grandmother. (My purely imaginary dream grandmother. Now that I'm awake, I take her as a representative of any of the people in my memories.) I can preserve the memories untouched, unsullied, pleasant... unreal.

 

Or I can fill the bath. Jump in. Stir up the memories -- possibly change them. Stir up new memories. Run the risk of remembering dear, departed grandmother in a different way.

 

I may remember my grandmother as a real person. Not as a clean, subtly and sweetly scented white-haired and delightful little old lady. I may stir up memories of grandmother as a real person -- someone who actually *used* the bath!

 

But, Deb is telling me, these will still be good memories. They will be real memories of a real person. Not just sweet surface memories. Real memories, with some depth. And still... good memories.

 

I can maintain an untouched shrine of shallow but sweet memories. And, incidentally, run the risk of being destroyed by aliens. Or I can dive straight in... Stir up unexpected memories -- which will still be true memories, just not as sugar-coated. And, by now almost irrelevant, I will be safe from those destructive aliens.

 

So, a choice.

 

I wake up.

 

 

 

=======

Dr Nick Lethbridge / Consulting Dexitroboper
Agamedes Consulting / Problems ? Solved
=======

"If I had asked people what they wanted, they would have said faster horses." … no, not said by Henry Ford

====

Now much more than a clever name for a holiday journal:

 https://notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au/  :-)

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keep in touch

I met my Granma when I was ten years old. I met her again when I was eighteen. Granma was my father's mother. She is the only one of my four grandparents that I have ever met. I hope that she liked me.

====

Those first few sentences have been waiting for a month. It's important to me. I know why it's important, I'm just not sure if I can explain it.

This morning I add, I hope that she liked me. It seems to be a minor revelation: that is the reason why this post is important. To me.

I'll keep typing. See if it all makes sense. That's why posting to this blog is important for me: putting my thoughts into words helps me to understand myself. And then I can stop worrying about myself... :-)

====

I met Granma when I was ten years old. We -- my mother, my sister and I -- stayed with Granma. For days? weeks? I have no idea. I had an upstairs bedroom. I remember waking one morning to look outside and see that the world was covered with a thin blanket of snow. It was beautiful.

Granma lived in England, somewhere to the south. I was born in Australia. This was my first visit to England.

I next met Granma when I was eighteen. Granma was now either divorced or widowed, I have no idea which. She had remarried and now lived with Uncle Louis in the north of England. I stayed with them for... probably just a few days.

I remember that tea-bags were a new invention. Granma and Uncle Louis had opened one up, didn't quite trust them, It's just fluff inside, they said. I remember that Uncle Louis drove us to a nearby town one day. He pointed out his favourite hillside, a mass of glorious Autumn colours. It was beautiful.

I never met either of them again.

Perhaps ten years later, Uncle Louis had died. Granma had followed her children to Australia. Where she died.

At the time, I was sad. At most I thought, It would have been nice to have met up with Granma in Australia. Yet I had hardly known Granma. I carried on with my own life.

Another ten years on. I began to realise: if you do like someone -- it is worth making the effort to keep in touch.

I did like Granma. She sent Christmas parcels of toys each year when I was growing up. (There may have been more than toys, I remember the toys:-) I don't remember writing letters, I may have. I did go out of my way to visit, when I was eighteen.

All this is about what I would expect of a young person growing up. An awareness that a relation exists, a willingness to occasionally visit. The generation in between keeps in touch.

This morning I realise: I hope that Granma liked me. Not for myself but for Granma. I would like to think that she enjoyed my two visits. That she was pleased with the son of her son. We -- each generation -- lead our own lives. But I hope that Granma liked the near-stranger that she met only twice.

====

When Granma died I thought, It would have been nice to meet up with her again, in Australia. Years later I thought, I didn't do much to keep in touch with Granma. No, it's not guilt. Just a touch of ... sadness? disappointment?

I liked Granma. It would have been nice to have met her again -- or written letters -- just to keep in touch. (Maybe! To be honest, we can be a difficult family...)

More years passed and I realise: If you like someone, it is worth the effort to keep in touch. I'm not much good at writing letters -- real letters, snailmail, that is. Email... though... is, for some reason, so much easier.

I began with an annual Christmas Letter. Just a once-yearly effort to keep in touch. Deb said that it was a waste of time, that no-one wants to know what we have been up to. Until her friend commented that it was nice to get our Christmas Letter...

With the magic of email, it's even easier. It's only a handful of people, friends and family. An occasional email, not too often. The very occasional meeting, even... Just keeping in touch.

A small pleasure. Well worth the small effort.

====

Some people just drop out of sight. Fall out of touch. I wonder how they are. Keeping in touch... just does not happen.

Sometimes we simply ... drift too far apart. We have little in common, keep in touch because it is a pleasure to exchange news, then accept that we are strangers who once crossed paths.

Sometimes we ... follow different paths. We share a lot, exchange news when we can, but follow different paths. We would enjoy meeting... but spend more time on other things. Our lives are too full of differences to allow time to catch up on shared interests.

Which brings me -- I think -- to the point of this post. The reason why I want to write it. The reason why it has taken me so long to write it.

When Granma died I thought, it would have been nice to have met up with her again. In Australia. But she was dead. Too late to meet again.

People get out of touch. That's okay, lives diverge.

Now it's my turn to be dying. There are people who I have not met -- not contacted -- for years. We have drifted apart... or moved apart. Do I want to catch up with them? Do I want "a last chance" to catch up -- before I die?

Well... yes and no.

There are some people I would like to catch up with, to see how they are going. To satisfy myself -- in some cases -- that they are well, that their lives are good :-) Or perhaps to look at them and think, My goodness how they have aged! Or just to talk over old times, the pleasures of memories of the past.

Do I want to catch up with people because, I'm dying, this could be the last chance to catch up? No... Definitely not.

If we have drifted apart then we have drifted apart. If there was no reason to communicate for the last many years -- there is no more reason now. If there has been no common ground -- no interest in just keeping in touch -- then I see no reason for a final farewell.

What I do see is the "lesson" that I learnt... slowly... in the decade or more after Granma died:

If I want to keep in touch, do it. Keep in touch while there is no end to the future. Keep in touch because it's a pleasure. Keep in touch because there is pleasure in discussing the present and the future.

If I didn't keep in touch while life stretched out beyond the visible horizon -- I can't see much point in keeping in touch now that the horizon is so much closer.

That's just my point of view :-) It may be different for people who still plan to live forever. In which case: get in touch!

Perhaps, though, for your other friends and family: just *keep* in touch.

=======

Dr Nick Lethbridge / Consulting Dexitroboper
Agamedes Consulting / Problems ? Solved
=======

​"No one said they wanted faster horses, they wanted less horseshit." … no, not said by Henry Ford

====

Now much more than a clever name for a holiday journal:

 https://notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au/  :-)

Virus-free. www.avast.com

random points before the scan

I may not have stated this clearly: I do not *want* to have a terminal and aggressive form of brain cancer! Given no choice, I accept.

I could use standard phrasing and say, I wish I did not have this cancer... but that is not true. I do not *wish* that I did not have cancer. That would imply a belief in wishing as a potential cure.

I am happy to see positive thinking... "a good attitude"... as a way to minimise the impact of cancer. I don't believe that I can "wish away" the cancer. I certainly won't destroy my enjoyment of life by following scams which offer miracle cures.

I accept that I do have cancer. I am being treated to minimise the impact of that cancer. I hope to enjoy life for as long as I can. No matter how much I am enjoying my life -- I do not *want* to have cancer. I just accept that I do have it.

====

Wednesday night: I go to bed early. Well, 10:30pm which is early for me. Fatigue as a side-effect? Definitely! Not physical exhaustion though, just mental: I would like to sleep, I can't settle to doing much else. I spend an hour watching tv... which I count as, doing nothing much.

Wake up -- as usual -- every hour to an hour-and-a-half. One waking thought is interesting:

I've spent the afternoon and evening feeling very tired. Unable to settle to doing anything. Yet -- when there is anything to be done -- I am not falling asleep. Just lacking the enthusiasm to do things... Perhaps I am tired -- and too bored to act? Tired... can't be bothered starting something... stop... feel bored because I've stopped... feel tired because I'm doing nothing.

It's a thought :-)

In practice: I've decided that -- having woken up just after 4am -- I may as well get up. While I'm awake and feeling fresh... feeling reasonably fresh. Will this mean that I am even more tired today? Doesn't matter.

It will mean that I have an extra hour or so this morning to "do things". I'll see what I do...

My 4am waking is interesting...

There are various ways that I wake up... that I wake myself up. There's the alarm. And there are various body & mind things that cause me to wake up.

My bladder is the obvious one. It gets full, I wake up. As the weather warms up -- and my body absorbs more water for use than for waste -- the bladder is less effective. It's full enough that I want to go to the toilet but not so full that I absolutely *must* wake up and go. So my mind adds dreams. I dream of things which either distract my bladder or which force me awake.

This morning I wake up from a dream about sex.

That's the best type of dream :-) For bladder distraction, I mean... :-) (For those who are not following me... women, presumably: Sex leads to erection which automatically cuts off flow from the bladder.) So I'm dreaming about sex... so that there is no "threat" from my bladder.

Why is this worth a mention? Because it is so rare!

Age is tough. Some pleasures are left behind. Dreams of sex are few and far between. Stress and exhaustion reduce the ability to have sex -- and reduce the frequency of dreams which involve sex. Don't get me wrong: the interest is there... but the practical ability is going... going...

Over the last five or more years I have had very few dreams which involve sex. The few that I have had, I associate with good times, less stress, feeling particularly well.

So this morning's dream is -- to me -- a good sign :-)

No, not a sign of a miracle cure. Not a sign that I am somehow getting better. Definitely not a sign that I really do want to have cancer! Just a sign that I am feeling, not too bad. Not too worried. Coping, perhaps... Perhaps that's why I decide to get up and blog, rather than just sleep a bit longer...

====

Now that I'm blogging... Wednesday was quite busy:

I'm now committed to adding abdominal radiation to brain radiation treatment. Wednesday, I'm scanned to see where the radiation needs to focus.

We start with a blood test. When I say "we" I mean, Deb and I. Deb is not working today so she drives, stays, waits while I get the various treatments. Though when I say "we" I also mean that *I* start the day with a blood test. This is the weekly, How's your white cell count, blood test. The one with presumably satisfactory results because I don't hear about the results.

Deb has time for a cup of coffee as we stroll back to the clinic for my scan. Deb says, Time for your scan. I may have been dozing while waiting... Yes, I can relax in a clinic waiting room.

The standard brain zap. Then to another machine -- a CAT scanner? -- to be measured for the extended zapping.

The brain zap is very focused. My head is held still by a "mask", a specially-fitted head wrap which is bolted down to the scanner table.

The abdominal zap will cover all my spine and all my gut. I will have to lie very still. To be sure that I lie still and in the correct position, there will be tattoos on my torso. When the tattoos are aligned with the zap-machine, my body will be aligned for zapping.

There are three nurses? technicians? people running the CAT scan. Mature woman, younger woman, young man. Off with my shirt. Drop my pants. Lie here please... It would be quite fun, if it were not so professional... Well, okay, it's quite fun. But it is also very professional.

I expected that this scan would not want lumps of cloth and metal in the way. So I am dressed in easy-on easy-off shirt (my usual, anyway). No watch, nothing in my pockets. No belt. Now my shirt is off and my pants are lowered to around mid-hip... embarrassing in public but barely exposed.

I lie on a flat -- and narrow -- table in the scanner. Arms above my head, holding a grip. I am pushed a bit sideways. Shifted just a bit to match... whatever. Everyone is happy. The scanner... scans.

The table slides me in and out of the machine. It's like a short tunnel. One narrow part spins... I am moved in and out... spinning stops... scan is done. I still stay still.

My body -- the abdomen? torso? has been scanned. This will show where I'm cancerous, where I will be zapped. The final step is to make sure that future zapping matches today's scan.

I am given three tattoos.

Later, Deb needs convincing: Yes, real tattoos... Permanent. As far as I know. They provide three fixed points on my body, for the zapper to line up where it will zap.

Each tattoo is a small dot, a single poke of a loaded tattoo needle. Just a pin-prick... enough to convince me that I will never commit to full tattoo art. A quick look now -- and I can't see a dot. It's very small. I may look later. The nurse assures me that, Yes, *they* can see each dot.

One dot on the sternum. One on each side at the base of my ribs. Three points to align future abdominal zapping. And I'm done for today.

Stand up... after ten or twenty minutes of being scanned. Not too uncomfortable. My hands -- above my head -- have started to go to sleep. I stand slowly, a little bit dizzy but that is my usual OTTWoW (covered in an earlier post.)

Pull up my pants. Shirt on. Out... the door is locked. So you don't run away, says the nurse :-) To protect privacy, I suspect.

And... done.

This week, two more days of brain zapping. Next week -- if everyone has finished analysis of today's scan -- I will be doing double daily scanning. Which means -- I believe: I will lie down, have my head bolted to the table, have my brain zapped. Then I will stand up, shift around, probably take off my shirt & drop my pants. Lie very still and have my lower body zapped.

But that... is next week. If all goes according to plan.

====

Meanwhile, the advantage of Deb waiting for me: Deb has paid this week's bill. It's a fair amount though a lot will come back from Medicare.

Total cost will be ... we were told but I forget ... say, about $6,000 cost to us. Hmmm... probably as much again for the testicular cancer zapping. Oh well. We're lucky, we can afford it. Though it's definitely not chicken feed.

I am an out-patient, not based in hospital. So nothing is covered by our private health insurance. The Medicare "safety net" is about to kick in, so total cost -- to us -- will be limited. When I look at the total cost -- if Medicare did not exist -- it is horrendous... Perhaps we could afford it? Perhaps we would be selling the house.

But we do have Medicare! All those years of paying taxes -- well worth it after all :-)

====

The rest of the morning is spent driving. Deb driving. We pick up mangoes from near the airport, an annual gift from my brother. We deliver some to my other brother, he's not in but we catch up with his wife. Tomorrow (now today) we deliver to another branch of the family.

I navigate. When Deb reaches more familiar roads, I spend more time snoozing. At home -- after a late lunch -- I sleep some more.

Then eat... and snooze... and do nothing much... and sleep. And that, was Wednesday.

=======

Dr Nick Lethbridge / Consulting Dexitroboper
Agamedes Consulting / Problems ? Solved
=======

​"No one said they wanted faster horses, they wanted less horseshit." … no, not said by Henry Ford

====

Now much more than a clever name for a holiday journal:

 https://notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au/  :-)

just when I was learning the routine!

There I was, planning today's post. Nothing much is happening, I thought. Time to comment that posting is less frequent because life(*) is settling into a steady routine...

(*) By "life" I mean, life as described in this blog. Which is now all about death and dying. There is plenty of real life in my life... but I do try to not post too much that is off the death&dying topic.

Today is Tuesday. There is radiation treatment plus the weekly meeting with Doc H, the Genesis radiation oncologist. I have  a list of questions to get my routine straight in my own mind. Doc H counters with a change to the routine:

Am I ready to start radiation treatment for my testicular cancer?

Okay, the testicle with cancer is now no more than a memory. (Or, perhaps, a few slides in a pathology lab.) The cancer itself has spread to various lymph nodes on my back. Or abdomen? Wherever. It's still "testicular" cancer because that's where it started. The testicle was the "primary" cancer site, the lymph nodes are "secondary" sites for testicular cancer. I think :-)

I'm unusual in that I have two "primary" cancers: brain and testicle. But that's enough bragging...

Am I ready to treat the testicular cancer? No thought required, it's what I'm expecting, Yes, do it.

There are two options: chemo or radiation. Testicular chemo could be tricky when mixed with the brain chemo. Radiation means that I am zapped in the brain -- and also across the abdomen. Simple choice, I'll be getting extra radiation.

The brain radiotherapy covers a small area. It needs to be carefully controlled so there is less chance of frying a nearby but essential part of the "healthy" brain.

Abdominal radiotherapy will cover a larger area for just three weeks at a lower dosage. Doc H describes it as a T shape: down the spine then spreading out across the gut. Both brain & gut will be radiated at the one session, each week day. If we start soon, both will finish together.

There are, of course, side-effects! Similar but more...

... Fatigue: I slept for a lot of last weekend. I can expect to be much more tired than that.

... Nausea: will be a lot worse -- it's my digestive system being radiated. Just carry on with the Kytril, says Doc H. I've already dropped that -- with no nausea. Oh well, I still have a good supply.

... Bone marrow damage: I'll be zapped right through my spine, this could affect my white cell production. Do my weekly blood tests show any white cell problems so far? Doc T has not been in touch so... probably... no worries. So far...

... Long-term effects: on the spine, gut, whatever... I stop listening. For some reason I'm not too worried about "long-term" problems!

Next step is a CAT scan so that Genesis can decide exactly where to zap. I will also get tattoos, as markers for the zap-machine set-up. I hope they are not obscene tattoos... Then a treatment plan, then... double the daily radiation treatment.

So much for getting used to the simple routine :-)

On my way out I suggest to the front desk person that email is the best way to contact me. So, later that afternoon... I get a phone call to tell me of a changed appointment time. I'm asleep, Deb takes the call and writes the new time on her wrist. I'm sure it is all accurately passed on. This evening I email Genesis, to confirm the new appointment.

The new appointment is tomorrow, Wednesday, a half-hour later. It will include the standard brain zap plus a CAT scan for treatment planning. Tomorrow is also blood test day so I'll give blood first. There may even be time for Deb to have some coffee in between :-)

Tomorrow is also the day when we pick up mangoes at the airport and deliver them to Armadale.

The rest of the day is spent on toddler-watch with our grandson. We go on a "bush walk"... Not much walking but a lot of examining sticks & stones & twigs & insects & ... everything. It's all fascinating. And great fun :-)  Two people phone me -- that's two people more than phone me on a typical day.

Busy, busy busy! Not at all routine.

====

While I'm waiting for Deb to pick me up from Genesis I look round the "waiting room". It's a few separate areas, nicely decorated and OCD furnished.

Have you ever noticed that all chairs in a medical waiting room are set in absolutely straight rows with all their backs against the wall ?!

Okay, it may make some sense in a GP surgery, to minimise the chances of one patient sneezing a new disease directly onto another. But in a cancer clinic?

There are small couches -- backs to the walls. Single chairs -- in straight lines -- backs to the wall. There are small round tables, coffee-tables, one per area. Stuck out in the middle with no relationship to the chairs. There are small square tables which are -- you guessed it -- lined up with the chairs, continuing the straight lines, against the walls...

If I'm left there again... with time on my hands... I may just rearrange the furniture.

(And no, that is not a euphemism... I no longer have enough furniture that it needs regular rearranging... rofl :-)

=======

Dr Nick Lethbridge / Consulting Dexitroboper
Agamedes Consulting / Problems ? Solved
=======

​"No one said they wanted faster horses, they wanted less horseshit." … no, not said by Henry Ford

====

Now much more than a clever name for a holiday journal:

 https://notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au/  :-)

what do you mean, it's not all Me! Me! Me!?!

There are various support groups for cancer. Support groups for every disease under the sun, possibly! A lot of the support is the opportunity to talk to other people who are in a similar situation.

I've had an offer or two to have a chat with cancer sufferers. I've declined. Not really interested. Now that I'm thinking about it, my lack of interest is in large part due to lack of relevance. To get my interest a fellow cancer patient would need:

... To have GBM, same as me. Without that chance of a sudden terminal situation I don't see the relevance.

... To be cheerful enough that we can enjoy an exchange of ideas. Readers Digest once claimed that, "Misery loves company -- as long as the company is also miserable." Vice versa, I'd prefer to talk with a cheerful person :-)

... As I understand it the major remaining unknown is, How will I actually die? So I would definitely be interested in discussing that particular experience. Which requires a chat with a dead person.

====

On the other hand...

Deb is still alive. When I am dead Deb will still be alive. (She had better be!) The actual cause of *my* death is largely irrelevant. The key factor is that Deb has to hang around while I have all the fun...

So Deb will get in touch with a support group. Probably the Cancer Council. To line up chats? meetings? support groups? whatever... with people whose partners have terminal cancer. Or similar.

I can just imagine... :-)  Well, no, I just can't imagine what such groups would talk about. Which is one reason why I think it's an excellent idea.

Deb & I have our three-year-plus-a-bit planning horizon. I can accept that I'm not going to reach that horizon. (Especially since it is always that same three-years-plus ahead of "today"!) When I fall out of the plan -- I'm no longer worried.

Deb, however, has to plan further ahead. While putting up with me and my current ... status & situation. Deb copes, brilliantly. She still worries. I'm still cheerful... but what if I'm not? And when I'm dead, what then for Deb?!

So Deb will contact the Cancer Council. Meet & chat with people whose partners are dying. Get advice and, I guess, comfort. (Knowing Deb she will probably give at least as much comfort as she receives.)

I hope it helps.

I'm sure it will :-)

It's certainly worth doing.

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Dr Nick Lethbridge / Consulting Dexitroboper
Agamedes Consulting / Problems ? Solved
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​"No one said they wanted faster horses, they wanted less horseshit." … no, not said by Henry Ford

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Now much more than a clever name for a holiday journal:

 https://notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au/  :-)

sadness -- passed

Friday evening I have my longest and saddest time for months. I am exhausted, I am uncertain -- I am very happy... !?

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Friday morning begins, as ever, with a chemo tablet. I'm gradually learning to think "between meals" rather than "half hour before breakfast". Which means that I can get up, swallow a pill, go back to sleep.

Deb drops me at SJoG hospital then goes on to work. I have coffee, walk to Genesis for my radiation. Treatment is just as quick but a bit later than usual.

Genesis shifted treatments round for this Friday, to finish early. Seems there will be a visit by bigwigs so the clinic wants to make a good impression. That would explain the gardener over the last couple of days. I would have thought that even bigwigs would like to see the efficient treatment of patients. I guess that "patient informed consent" makes that difficult.

A walk, two trains & more walking, I'm visiting my brother at his office in East Perth. All very easy... public transport works well. (I won't mention the walking again. There is always some but it's no trouble. While the weather is good :-)

The building concierge asks me, Do you work here? are you visiting here? He's with a different government agency so I say, No, no. I probably look extra suspicious as I bypass the concierge and head to the toilets....

Which I do again, after coffee with my brother. Again, past a suspicious concierge :-)

An easy bus ride to the city centre. Time for a snack and some reading (I take a book for public transport trips). Then lunch with Andrew. We swap yarns on running... he's still improving while I'm... well... possibly past my peak :-)

Bus home... and I'm exhausted! Catch a few minutes sleep before Deb gets home. Son drops by to drop off a novel for me to read -- one that he has written! Dinner... then babysitting.

Deb & I look after Will for the evening. I'm no longer asleep on my feet but definitely relaxed. Will entertains us for a few hours then is glad to be able to relax when his mother gets home!

Back home -- after a hour or two to unwind -- I go to bed. Look at Deb asleep already. Think, All this is soooo nice... I'd like it to last a lot longer. And I'm hit by sadness :-( Just three on a scale of one to ten. But definitely sad.

I think it through:

I'm happy and I would like it to last forever. Right now I'm exhausted, feeling flat rather than cheerful. And yesterday's garden analogy is too good: I understand that I am in a period of uncertainty until my post chemoradiotherapy brain scan.

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I sleep. Wake up... it's now Saturday morning. Feeling rested.

Feeling better :-)

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Dr Nick Lethbridge / Consulting Dexitroboper
Agamedes Consulting / Problems ? Solved
=======

​"No one said they wanted faster horses, they wanted less horseshit." … no, not said by Henry Ford

====

Now much more than a clever name for a holiday journal:

 https://notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au/  :-)