The Real Costa Coffee

It was raining first thing Tuesday morning but we had friends staying so breakfast was an event to enjoy far removed from the normal grab, glug, get on. Thus it was that I was at my best in the hours before Chemo#3 scheduled for 1130.

Arriving in Cherryade in good time the formalities felt normal as did the canulation and dispensation of the chemicals various. Normality extended right up to he point when the tablet I'm typing on now seemed to need more security than I could offer. Hastily it was passed to the keeper of all good things sat almost next to me.

Somewhere a switch moved imperceptibly and with no discernable click but the effect was profound. Cannula removed and a wet walk to the car is barely remembered.

It was raining getting in the car and getting out of it.

Home and the front room sofa was as far as I could manage. Lying down was OK but once I got up even that became impossible. For the first time I was noticeably nauseous, not sick but, oh dear, not nice. Sitting was the only option.

I'm vaguely aware that our friends were there to see the effect of Chemo#3, so totally different and unexpected. They saw me at my worst for which I'm sorry and hope I didn't say anything that shouldn't have been said.

My recollection of the afternoon is effectively non-existent.

About 1830 I was aware of the rain on the bedroom window and the taker of notes attempting to give the impression that all was normal. There was, however, a definite aura of anxiety present. Tea? Yes, please. I'll bring it up. No, I'll come down. Which I did.

The rain was gently running off the veranda as tea was slowly taken. The world had not quite synchronised with me, nor I with it but I did eat. Then I was told that I'd spent the afternoon drinking. Really? I had no recollection of it bar a mug of black coffee but it would appear that I had at various times downed two pints of squash and two mugs of tea. But what about the coffee? You didn't have any she said referring to the ever present notebook. I distinctly remembered a mug of black coffee which I was convinced I'd had because it wasn't in a mug usually associated with coffee and it was black. My first coffee of the day is black to avoid having to start the day with Creon but thereafter a spot of milk is de rigueur.

I was assured that I'd had no coffee and subsequently filed coffee under hallucinatory experience as a result of chemical exposure.

The note book had words like disconnected  distant, incoherent, rambling, out of it, crawled up the stairs on hands and knees. And so on. I just don't remember but the notes seem exhaustive.

The bedroom window was steadily rained on when I turned in about 2000 after the pink pills. Unfortunately, now the steroids began their journey to my brain which was rapidly winding itself into overdrive.

Even Wimbledon was unable to stop frequent visits from an obviously anxious and increasingly tired looking minder. I had no needs to be met but that wasn't enough to stop the requests for being allowed to bring mugs of tea or whatever but each time I tried to kindly refuse the offers. Not only had I no needs, I had no wants, either.

By 2200 the rain was as hard as ever and I had a head full of ideas and a tablet with Amazon. The notepad made interesting reading. Details. I felt so alert, feeble, a bit leaden but the brain was on fire.

There was no let up in the rain when eventually I was joined by my puzzled and obviously no less anxious keeper of records. I mentioned the coffee again and was assured that it was just my imagination.

I was still wide awake listening to the rain when in the early hours a quiet voice said, you are right about the coffee, the first thing I did when we got in was to make a coffee for which you had become desperate. Sorry I forgot.

She doesn't forget, she was overwhelmed by circumstances. Swept up in the anxiety of experiencing the unknown for the umpteenth time in recent weeks let alone the months preceding all this.

It was still raining as I realised that the state of the nearest and dearest to me was as troubled at times as mine wasn't. I just do what I'm told, respond to what I'm asked and offer arms to needles. The results just happen and it is what it is.

I deal with it as best as I can but she has to experience it as well and all she wants to do is make things better for me, spends her time wondering what more she can do, frets in case there's anything else she could do that she hasn't done. Every day. All the time it's there. It's become her mindset.

And there's nothing I can do about it.
That's why she "forgot" about the coffee, she was totally overwhelmed by all these goings on.

It's so much easier for me than for her.
That's the real Costa Coffee.

On Wednesday it was still raining at 0300.