Saturday, March 2, 2019

feeling down, feeling up

Today I wake up feeling a lot better. A lot, lot better. Emotionally, that is, though emotion does affect or reflect physical and possibly mental.

For the last few days I've been a bit gloomy. Lots of swearing at inanimate objects. (Close, you stupid door!) Less enthusiasm for doing anything, anything at all. Sleeping a lot.

Could be that a good night's sleep has fixed me, nine hours last night. That does not explain why feeling better started last night before I went to sleep.

As I fall asleep I think, We must get to Sculptures by the Sea tomorrow...
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There are -- for the last week or so -- a few things on my mind. Upcoming lung function test. Finding a phone app developer. Eh?

I've been trying to find someone to develop a phone app for me. Phone plus cloud storage plus possibly web, app. Some commercial companies provide a development cost guesser: I tick the appropriate boxes, the estimate comes back at $34,000 to $104,000. Nooo, I don't think so.

I'd like to spend one or two cups of coffee. There's a suggestion that I get a student to do the work as a project. Good idea! I contact a couple of universities... Have you ever tried to ask an unexpected question of a university?

On a related topic: I once spent four or more weeks trying to contact a political minister. I finally spoke with a policy advisor. The final advice was useful only in that it said, Give up trying.

I look at university websites. There are phone numbers for general enquiries. I phoned, was passed on, left a message, heard no more.

Have universities never heard of email?

I found some general email addresses... If I'd wanted to enrol, fine. Otherwise, try "enquiries@...". So I tried that one (at two universities), waited a week. Sent two emails asking, Any luck? Waited another week. Sent two more enquires asking, Is this email address monitored? And I copied those emails, one to "complaints@", the other to something similar.

Complaints replied! And forwarded my message. And now I wait. Again.
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At the same time I am waiting to do a lung function test. I know nothing about what will be involved. I only know that my cancer drugs may cause some damage to my lungs. So there will be a before & after lung function test.

I have no idea what is involved in such a test. I also have not heard that there could be treatment to repair any lung damage... Just a before & after measure so that someone can say, Yep, there was damage. From a patient's point of view: so what?
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Plus, there is the general stress of waiting for a week of intensive chemotherapy. By drip feed to the veins. Another new and not wanted experience...

Not wanted? More on that later.
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Friday, the lung function test is trivial.

Breathe, hold, puff, keep blowing, that sort of thing. Variations on breathing in, breathing out. Nothing to worry about -- now that I have done it.

Was that really what was worrying me?
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Nine hours sleep, I wake up feeling fine. Was I just short on sleep? Possibly... except that I went to bed -- utterly exhausted -- feeling just as fine. Tomorrow we must go to Sculptures by the Sea, I think as I fall asleep. The same thought as when I wake up.

I even wake up from a dream which causes me to think, That was a very positive dream... No memory of the detail but it could have been to do with protecting the green environment. Nothing to do with cancer I think, as I wake up and quickly forget the detail. But definitely positive.
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We go to Sculpture by the Sea. Very enjoyable. I switch my sarcasm level to low and simply chuckle at some of the work. And enjoy some.

A fine morning's entertainment. I'm feeling -- emotionally, physically, mentally -- quite well :-)
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An aside: I have no ability as a home handyman. Yet I managed to buy & put together a plastic paddle pool. Half filled it with sand. Watched as grandson dug the sand, squirted the hose, generally soaked himself and the surroundings... Immensely good fun for all of us. Very satisfying for the person (me) who thought of it :-)
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Right now, I have no great worries about future drip-feeding of anti-cancer drugs. I check the Wikipedia entries for the three drugs: two say that it is not known how they fight cancer, the third is though to fight via some effect on DNA. Who knows? Who cares :-) Poke in those drip-feed cannulas? Who cares, my veins are big enough for a narrow-boat. Side-effects? I'll get by :-)

Hair falling out side effect? Too late... it's been cut short already; a preemptive crew-cut. And it's already thin due to age. Today, I'm ready. Today, I'm cheerful :-)
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Today, I'm thinking about the decision to have the chemo. Short term pain for long term gain, says the doc. What long term? I think. Long enough, I reply.

I don't plan to try absolutely anything to "survive". I accept that my brain cancer is terminal. That does not mean that I have given up.

I reject suggestions that I should eat only kale and celery and other boring salads. That suggestion was rejected at first sight then rejected when Deb said, Okay, cook it yourself. My diet is healthy enough, I'll settle for that.

I reject the pretend-medical quacks and the mystical powers of faith healers. A sudden splurge of spam to this blog reminded me of this; a barely literate series of comments suggested that witch-doctor ooboogubu could cure all my ills? Deleted as spam as soon as I saw them.

Power of positive thinking? Okay, I'll go with that -- but I will not pay anyone else to suggest how that will help. (Grateful, however, for the people who have said that they are praying for me.)

My own version of positive thinking does not believe that it will cure cancer. Delay its return? Possibly. Really, though, my own positive thinking is to accept and to enjoy the here and now.

A tee shirt spotted at this morning's beach visit said, All we have is Now. Not quite my view, but a good thought. Enjoy Now, look forward to the future. Make plans, don't worry too much about feasibility.

Which means: chemo for my ball cancer may seem pointless. After all, the brain cancer will kill me. So what? The brain cancer is not yet killing me. It is -- right now -- not showing on a scan.

I sign up for chemo. Lots of discomfort. Radiation would be easier but less effective. What if the brain cancer holds off for... however long? Then I will have time to get over chemo. Time in which I will be less worried about ball cancer. Time which I will definitely enjoy.

And if there is no time in which to enjoy? Well pfft. What are the odds, eh :-)
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Another random memory to be blogged:

A visit to my GP. I prod her gently about her health check which found me to be perfectly healthy, just before I was not. Not to worry, I say, there were no symptoms, no reason to look inside my head. No fault for either of us.

The ball cancer, though -- that was all my own fault. Hard testicle? I should have stopped holiday plans. (Was I on holiday... or still planning?! Even worse.) Perhaps I could have prevented the spread of that cancer. I'd still be short one ball, though perhaps not needing radiation, chemo, worry...

Thinking back: would I have had this anti-ball-cancer chemo much earlier -- if I had not also been getting treatment for the brain? Not sure. It does sound possible.

Anyway... my own stupid fault for going so long with a hard and swollen testicle. As I've said before: Let that be a lesson to you! If you're male, that is...
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Time for a run, Deb says so. I'm feeling so well that I barely object. I'll save this as a draft, check & post when I get back.
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We ran round Bayswater, mostly along the river. Very pleasant. With a shared iced coffee at the end :-) Time to post...





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

"Leaders are visionaries with a poorly developed sense of fear and no concept of the odds against them." … Robert Jarvik

===


Dying for you to read my blog, at https://notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au/ :-)




Virus-free. www.avast.com

Monday, February 25, 2019

back to calm

I've had a week or so of not feeling too good about the upcoming chemo treatment. Over that now, ready to... put up with it :-)
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Short term pain for long term gain, says the cancer doc. Do I have a long term? I reply. I have a patient still seeing me after eight years, she replies. And if I don't last eight years, I'm thinking, I won't be here to complain... So that's good.

The doc provides a clear & neat printout of the treatment process; it's from a NSW government site. Then she provides a typical doctor's scrawl on a not-so-clear form. Could look better with a bit of cut-and-paste.

I have two options: chemo or radiation. Radiation would zap the visibly cancerous lymph node. Relatively painless, relatively short-term gain. We (Deb & I) have already decided on the chemo. Take the more effective treatment in the "belief" that there will be time for long-term gain :-)
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Then there are several days of doing nothing medical. Grandson minding on Friday, always enjoyable. Though I do sleep through an hour or two of that day.

A short orienteering course on Saturday. I add to my time by walking back with a man who took a nasty tumble over a piece of playground equipment. That's my excuse for a slow time...

Up early on Sunday for a trail run. Just under 9km, 377m climb, I take 1 hour 33. I beat a dozen of the 180 runners ! I like these runs, they attract a reasonable number of people who are even less fit than me :-) My time is slower than "before" but it's still a lot of fun. And satisfying.

I tell the organiser that I'll most likely miss the final run of the series. She presents me with a special prize, just because. Shucks, I like these people.
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Monday I see the GP. I like to talk with a doctor who is not a cancer doc. And she's sympathetic. I feel better for the visit.

The doc does mention some new theory, that a short run before each treatment makes the treatment more effective with less side-effects. I may try that, if I feel like running at all. I may mention it to the cancer doc, or not bother.

Then I have my hair cut. I'm told it will fall out anyway, so I get it clipped back to a "number two". That's not as bad as it sounds... (lmao)

Home again and my treatment schedule has arrived. I have a lung function test this week. One possible side-effect is a reduction in lung capacity, this will be the "before" test. Next week I have a "before" blood test, the drugs will attack my white cells... or something. I don't like to think too clearly about what's going to happen.

Chemo starts on the 11th. It goes for a week, several hours each day. Each treatment starts at a different time, several run into the evening. I haven't heard anything about fasting before the drip, so I send an email... Aha! answer just arrived: no fasting.

And another answer: in the treatment cycle there is one week of daily drip then two weeks of drip on Monday. A three-week cycle. The immediately following Monday -- I start the cycle again. Oh! the fun :-)

The challenge now is to get to the various appointments at the correct times. And -- more importantly -- to make sure that our grandson is being looked after when both Deb & I are swanning round in the clinic.
===

I'm at the calm before the (next) storm. At least I can see this one coming...




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

"Leaders are visionaries with a poorly developed sense of fear and no concept of the odds against them." … Robert Jarvik

===


Dying for you to read my blog, at https://notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au/ :-)



Thursday, February 21, 2019

more good news

Today we visit the cancer doc to get the results of my MRI scan. To cut to the chase: good news :-) No sign of new brain cancer.
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My standard line is, The MRI scan found nothing...not sure where my brain is. Forget the jokes, it seems better to get straight to the good news :-) On the not so good, my current status is: Testicular cancer needs more treatment, brain cancer is not showing but brain cancer will eventually return. Return ? Not yet :-)

My word for the week: "terminal". My status so far: Not dead yet. And I'm beating the odds :-) That sounds good ! Time to do a bit more planning for a holiday...

Except that I will be spending several weeks getting chemotherapy for the visible cancer. Which means lots of nasty... possible... side-effects. Oh well.

Did you know that memory of pain is not as bad as the pain itself ? That -- I guess -- is why women are willing to have more that one child. For me, my memory of past side-effects is -- perhaps -- not as severe as the side-effects at the time. Soooo... I am not (for now) dreading the future side-effects.

Not looking forward to them, just believing that they will be... bearable. I could be wrong ! I'll find out.
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Does this all sound confusing ? I'm actually feeling a bit confused. Not looking forward to chemo, resigned to and accepting possible side-effects. Glad the brain cancer has not yet recurred, still worried about that one. Looking forward to a run on Sunday, annoyed that the chemo schedule has stopped me registering for the next rogaine.

My mood is confused. I suspect that my blog explanation is confused. I think -- looking into my own mind -- I can say, Confused but positive :-)
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I had a dream last night: I'm in a plane, a light aircraft, with Deb as the pilot. There is a strong headwind, the plane is travelling -- relative to the ground -- backwards. I am looking backwards, watching where Deb should be landing, directing Deb where to go.

Deb lands smoothly. I tell her, I wish *I* could fly again...

There could be a very simple explanation for this dream: I did have a pilot's licence (the equivalent of a learner's permit) and I do wish that I could fly again. After many years of not flying, what would have made me think of flying ? Is there more to this dream ?

With us in the plane was Deb's sister. She has joined us on several rogaines, we would invite her to join us on the next. Except that it seems likely that we -- I -- will not be ready for the next rogaine. (That was last night when the rogaine was doubtful. Today we have the chemo treatment schedule and the rogaine is definitely not on. Not on for us, due to me.)

Is flying a dream equivalent to a rogaine ? Wow ! I enjoy both... I would fly rather than rogaine... or would I ?!

I think my subconscious pulls out an activity that I would really enjoy. Adds Deb's sister to equate it to a rogaine. And presents it as disappointment that the chemotherapy schedule is preventing me from participation is an enjoyable activity. Dratted chemo, eh.

Alternatively, it's just another weird dream :-)

Deb landing so smoothly and safely, though, that shows the faith I have in Deb :-)

End of dream: Who are the two mature women waiting for us to land ? Is one really knitting while waiting for us ? Is that the way I see our fellow rogainers ? Hmmm...

Time to get to bed. To see what weird stuff I dream of, tonight.




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

"Leaders are visionaries with a poorly developed sense of fear and no concept of the odds against them." … Robert Jarvik

===


Dying for you to read my blog, at https://notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au/ :-)



Sunday, February 17, 2019

more of the same

Okay, a bit more information on the last visit to the cancer doc:

I may have said that the chemo drugs don't kill cancer cells, they just allow the body itself to kill those nasties. Wrong! Since then I've been told, "they work by stopping cells from dividing or disrupting the way they multiply, which kills the cancer cells because they are identified the ones that are trying to grow the fastest."

So there's a major effect of the drugs that they stop the cancer cells from multiplying. That also allows my body's immune system to more easily deal with the cancer cells.

I actually find that to be very reassuring. I'm glad that my own immune system will be able to work better. I'm even more pleased that the drugs will be in there and fighting for me :-)
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The cancer doc mentions a few of the possible side-effects. The tips of your fingers and toes may tingle or go numb, she says. That has already happened, I reply. When? she asks. From the first days of the first lot of chemo treatment, I reply. Oh, she says.

Oh dear, did I roll my eyes out loud ? I've mentioned the tingle three or four times to this doc. Plus a couple of times to the radiation doc. Did either of them hear me ? Obviously not.

I have no problems with the medical skills of the various cancer docs. these two in particular just have very poor listening skills. (And just average explanation skills.)
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The doc does provide a typed list of possible side-effects. Comprehensive & clear. Much better that the shoddy notes for the first lot of chemo... Because the first lot were many years old & created by the doctor who (I believe) trained my doc. Messy, hard to follow.

This lot of notes has a "NSW Govt" logo. Still not written by my doc but from a far better source !

 I may have mentioned, I don't really want to read about the side-effects :-( All very nasty stuff. Now I've had time to think about it...

All the side-effects are "possible". Well, some are highly probable but the likely severity is variable. They are also much the same as for my previous chemo treatment. Soooo... Though I dislike the expression, I've "been there, done that." Sure, this time it may be worse. But it's nothing new.

As I now understand it, "Yeah they mostly all work in a very similar way but the underlying mechanism is different. It's obviously actually super complex but ultimately they just affect different pathways of cell division or activity and so have similar end effects and thus similar side effects." I can understand "very similar" and "super complex". So been there, done that. Nothing worse to worry about. Unless it happens :-)
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First round of treatment I used Wikipedia to help understand what the cancer docs were saying. This time it's my son. He's a paediatrician so is used to speaking at my simple level.

I also visit my GP after each set of scans. It's nice to talk with a doctor who listens sympathetically yet is not focussed on cancer. Who has successfully removed a wart from my leg and wax from my ear :-)
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Meanwhile, friends and family are caring. And they understand that my cancer is not the entire conversation, for either of us. Which does help. Thank you :-)
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Can't say that I'm looking forward to the weeks of drug drip-feed. At least I'm less worried -- less scared -- that I was at first. Is that good or bad ? Time will tell...
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Oh, and today I finished a "long" orienteering course. Okay, five minutes outside the cut-off time. Last by many minutes. But recorded as finished :-)




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

"If it's stupid but it works, it's not stupid." … Ginger Meggs

===


Dying for you to read my blog, at https://notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au/ :-)



Thursday, February 14, 2019

good news, bad news

Today I see the cancer doc. It's to discuss the results of my recent PET scan. Having a meeting at all is a bad sign.

I already know that there is a shadow on the scan, under my lungs. Our son told me that, the doctor son. He has access to the scan results.

Yes, says the cancer doc, that shadow is cancer. In a lymph node on my spine. Technically, from the PET scan interpretation: "New small moderately FDG-avid para-aortic lymph node in the mediastinum is concerning for nodal metastasis." Riiiigght.

"Lymph node" explains the son, sucks up all the bad stuff from the blood, produces anti-bad-stuff, pumps it all back into the blood. (This is my translation of my understanding. Good enough for me.)So a lymph node sucks up cancer cells and pumps them back into the blood. Which allows the cancer to spread. Not a good thing.

This spreading cancer is the testicular type. If I had taken my hard testicle to the doc a lot sooner, it may not have had a chance to spread further. Oh well, my balls-up (ba-boom!), too late now. Too late for me: feel your balls now and get a second opinion -- quickly.
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This cancer is treatable and -- probably -- curable. There are two treatment options: radiation or chemotherapy.

Radiation would (again) hit the affected area. If the cancer cells are already outside the visible shadow of cancer -- it will continue to spread. An easy treatment. Not a long-term solution.

That leaves chemotherapy. Very effective since the chemo goes all through the bloodstream. It hits everywhere, kills cancer everywhere.

caveat 1: Does not (if I understand correctly) does not *kill* the cancer cells. It allows my own body to effectively destroy the cancer cells. Magic, I guess.

caveat 2: No mention that it will affect brain cancer. If not, it may be because the "blood brain barrier" prevents the chemo from getting into my brain. That barrier -- I have now been told -- is a filter. Only nice pure blood can pass the filter and get into the brain. Either that, or these chemo drugs just don't work on brain cancer. (Sorry to be so technical.) (These are my wild guesses. All I really know is, we're about to fight only the testicular cancer.)

So... more chemotherapy. A week of drugs dripping into a vein, four hours at a time. A weekly injection. Thirty minutes of a different drug via drip, on days eight and fifteen of a three-week cycle. Rinse & repeat. Until the doc calls enough... I guess there will be scans, enough will be called after a PET scan shows no more cancerous shadows.

Side effects? Oh yeah :-(

Possibly dangerous allergic reactions, probable nausea and vomiting near the top of the list. I stop reading, it's a nasty list. I'll let someone else read the list and I'll tell them how I feel.

As we say, says the doc, Short term pain for long term gain. All very well, I reply, for those with a long term. Not to worry, I do plan to live for three years, etc -- or more. And if I don't, well, tough :-)

But first, let's check that "long term". Before I start fighting testicular cancer -- how's the brain cancer? My MRI was due in March, it's been moved forward to next week. If the brain is still empty, I get many weeks of nasty chemotherapy. If there are signs of a brain tumour… we think again.
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So how do I feel about all of this?

Now that's it's happened -- and there is a clear plan ahead -- not too worried. After all, this is the not-likely-to-be-terminal cancer. And it's treatable. If the brain cancer is also back -- I'll rethink my attitude.

My initial worry is, a solid week -- plus a few days -- of needles in my veins :-( Yuk.

Then I start to worry about the side-effects. No, don't drive yourself home, I'm told. Wanting to vomit may hit suddenly. Looks as though I won't drive very much for all those weeks of treatment. Bummer.

What I really dread is not even on the list of side-effects. Not near the top, anyway, as far as I read it. Nausea, vomiting, nasty. Except that the anti-nausea treatment tends to go too far, to constipation. Feeling awful, straining, no real relief... Now that's a real bummer :-( A new world of dread, as I attempt to balance the drug effects with the "cure". Not looking forward to that possibility.

Note the positive use of "possibility" rather than "probability" :-)
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All this bad news, I say, is likely to turn my hair grey. The good news, replies my son, is that all your hair will fall out.

I make an appointment with the hairdresser. Cut it all off, I'll say. May as well cut the hair off before it falls out.

I make an appointment with my GP. There's a simple weekly injection -- on top of everything else -- that I could self-administer. (As if!) Or the son could inject it. (I don't know if either of us would be comfortable with that. But it may happen.) Or I'll get the GP to jab me. I like to have a non-specialist GP to manage the simpler medical problems.
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So I'm now "looking forward to" several three-week cycles of feeling rotten. With more good news: I should have plenty of material for this blog :-)

Looking forward to more poo references in March...





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

"If it's stupid but it works, it's not stupid." … Ginger Meggs

===


Dying for you to read my blog, at https://notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au/ :-)




Virus-free. www.avast.com

Monday, February 11, 2019

no news was ...

At last, after months of having nothing much to say (and using a lot of words to say it) -- some different news:

My recent PET scan shows a shadow... Yes, it seems that the cancer may have sprouted up in a new spot. Behind my lungs.

This would have to be the testicular cancer. At least, it's the spreading pattern that I was warned of (when cancer was first discussed). Brain cancer may spread but usually only within the brain. I think.

Lung cancer ? Not likely. Though I did work in an office with smokers... Anyway, "behind" the lungs is what I've been told so far.

On the bright side, I also remember being told that spreading testicular cancer is not (usually) life-threatening. As long as it's treated. And it is "easily" treatable. On my first round of treatment, it was just radiation for the testicular cancer, no drugs. Oh, but the right nut was removed... Let's hope that future treatment avoids sharp knives.

All this is, so far, second-hand knowledge. The cancer doc's secretary has left a phone message (which I noticed many hours later, I'm not a phone user). The message is to set up an appointment "about my PET scan". No urgency there -- no information at all -- but I'll take that as a good sign.

Actual facts have come from my son, also a doctor and with access to my scan results. He phoned, thinking that I would have already heard from the cancer specialist... Noooo. Poor son, put in an awkward situation. Though as soon as he phoned I guessed that it was "news". And I'd rather hear it from him first rather than from the specialist. Nice woman but sometimes a bit too "specialist".

So how do I feel ? Not too happy. But, hey, no worse than I've been before. A bit glum. A bit disappointed. But:

In all my understanding, testicular cancer will not kill me. At least, not as easily and as quickly as brain cancer :-)

So, no need for extra worry. Not till March, when I'll be having my next brain scan.

Though with one cancer (so it seems) returned... I've lost just a bit of my optimism. Oh well.

And dang! I'd better hurry up with my preparations for death. Just in case... Naahhh… I'll just carry on enjoying myself. Till I can't :-)
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So what could happen next ? No facts, just guesses:

I guess, another body scan. The PET does not show detail. If the detail confirms cancer, I guess more radiation. Or whatever.

I may find out on Thursday. The phone message was so soft I could barely hear it. But it did seem to say, "come in on Thursday". I *emailed*, Okay. Let's hope I get an email response... I like to have my facts in writing.




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

"If it's stupid but it works, it's not stupid." … Ginger Meggs

===


Dying for you to read my blog, at https://notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au/ :-)



a good night's sleep

I believe that I may have discovered the secret to a good night's sleep.
===

A couple of weekends ago a trail run was moved from a National Park to a less valued area, due to fire risk in the NP. The NP run was rescheduled to this weekend. It's a tough course, I'm not looking forward to it.

The run is on Sunday. My preparation includes a "short" run at Saturday's orienteering. Three km at an easy pace. I'm rested and ready for a tough Sunday run.

Saturday evening -- the Sunday run is cancelled. Another hot weekend, more high fire danger, the Park is, again, closed. I'm ready for a run but with nowhere to run.

Except... the Marathon Club have a club run on Sunday. Enter on the day is allowed. It's in another NP which, hopefully, is not closed.

At 4:30am I wake up, get up, get ready to go. Dress, breakfast, drive. Even if this run is also cancelled -- it's a very nice drive. Sunrise, cool, towards the bush. I arrive in plenty of time and --  the run will happen! I register.

I still have almost an hour to wait, so I help direct traffic. The run organiser is worried, with the cancelled run, this one could be crowded. Yes, there's a lot of traffic but it's not too bad. Some people do join because their original run is cancelled but others simply choose to relax. Or may not know about the Marathon Club run. Or, perhaps, are put off by "Marathon" in the name of the organising club :-)


It's a beautiful day for a run, warm not hot, and dry. Temperature starts in the low twenties and is a bit over 30 (C) when I finish. The course is through bush, mostly in shade. There's a gradual climb, up... and up... and up...

I start near the end of the pack and move gradually back.  Plenty of time to chat with the sweeper, the runner whose task is to follow the last competitor, make sure that they don't get lost or forgotten. Interestingly, he also has brain cancer. His is "benign" but has caused him to vomit & faint. Now it's under control with drugs.

We finally catch up with the only other runners we can see ahead of us. (By "we" I mean, I catch up, the sweeper stays with me.) I get ahead of the two women... for a km... then they pass me again. I finish last. To the usual trail-run round of friendly applause.

I suspect that the Marathon Club attracts better runners, less just-give-it-a-go runners, than my usual trail runs. That's my excuse :-)

There are slices of watermelon at the finish. I get to take home an entire watermelon. A prize? my son later asks. Not exactly, I say. More that everyone else has finished, no-one wants any more melon, there are some left over. If it's a prize -- it's the wooden spoon. But much appreciated :-)

I spend the rest of the day drinking and relaxing. Fall asleep early (for me), still a bit dehydrated. Sleep soundly for most of the night...

The secret to a good night's sleep: exhaustion so I sleep, dehydration so I don't wake up to go to the toilet.

That's a tough secret... It's a lot easier to accept that I will wake up several times each night.

Though even a last place on a 13km trail run is, I admit, very satisfying.
===

This morning I'm at the shops, looking for a new pair of trail shoes. That's the trouble with running, it's a way to realise that the current shoes are not comfortable past the first couple of kilometres... The shoe search is a failure, the running shoe shop is closed.

I do meet and chat with a person that I know from a stint as lecturer.  He's much older than me but looking very well. We get onto the subject of clearing out the house. First, what to keep... His wife wants to keep everything, he wants to throw things out. At our place I'm the hoarder, Deb wants to declutter. Both he and I need to examine everything before it is kept or thrown out.

There are some things, we agree, which have no purpose. Yet -- at some indeterminate time in the future -- they may be of interest to our children or grandchildren or historians. Diaries, travel journals, photos, birth death & marriaage certificates, that sort of thing.

Some things can be scanned so that the bulky originals can be thrown out, he suggests. I go the other way: Deb doesn't look at the PC so I print a hardcopy of photos and travel journals.

Both of us are old enough to know that our children don't want to have to go through a lot of possibly worthless junk. We'd like to leave just the "essential" items for history and inheritance. It's a very difficult task.




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

"I didn't fight my way to the top of the food chain just to become a vegan." … Ginger Meggs
===

dying for you to read my blog: notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au :-)
====