Over a week ago the antibiotics ran their course so I had almost a fortnight off chemo and a few days off them. The Saturday was great so I did too much and Sunday wasn't as good but Monday was wonderful. Making us and our visitors coffees on request and feeling good.
Tuesday the anticipation of being infused during the afternoon could easily have led to the onset of gloom, doom, woe and debilitation. That it wasn't is down to our visitors from London who we haven't seen in ages but should have been with in Keswick recently. Their presence made the morning pass through sunny glades of memories rekindled and news of events of personal import which always lend perspective and the act of listening because you're interested in them and their story overwhelms your own.
But the afternoon did come and the questions and the needle and chemo #7 and the sleep. Thus Tuesday ended with pink pills and Wednesday started with them. Waking up would not be an apt description of Wednesday lunchtime but I was able to recognise the time and act appropriately.
Sat at the table it all went so wrong and but for my ever attentive overseer I may have begun the descent of a slippery slope. I craved green stuff. All I wanted was salad. I had a plate upon which was a pile of green stuff, to which I added salt and brown liquid from a posh looking bottle, a designer bottle if you will.
How that happened when the salad cream was next to it I can only put down to the mist of chemistry. But I did drizzle dressing where salad cream should have gone. I did enjoy the green stuff to which halved and lightly salted tomatoes were added. Only moments before these tiny toms had been hanging from their plant in the greenhouse and delicious they were.
Then it hit me. I was turning veggie. The appalling vision of a veggie me could not be disguised by the chemically altered brain. I thought that I could end up subscribing to The Guardian when I visited their website, that I may look to the BBC for news again, indeed for a moment I did think that I may go all oooooh, aaaaaaah, and gooey at the sight of uncooked animals.
Fortunately my oversight was in the very best of hands and at that very moment just before awareness congealed into despair two rashers of back bacon were delicately placed on the side of my plate recently piled high with picturesque dressed leaves that would have been worthy of a photo on the website of many, if not most of the current crop of foodie sites.
Not, I hasten to add on Giorgio Locatelli's who had a design for stodged up tomato with garlic and onion, some red pepper and chorizo. It would have been totally lovely but for the fact that I added sliced cooked sausages. Actually, the real problem may have been that he said loads of tomatoes and a bit of onion. He also said that following recipes slavishly was not the way to do it. Taste was.
So, liking onion I put in far too much and nowhere near enough tomatoes. In fairness I should point out that I used all the large tomatoes that my gardener gave me so it could be argued that she should have picked more. She gave me the onions as well. Watching from a distance she was also ready to jump in with a pan of noodles when it became apparent that I'd forgotten about getting the spaghetti going whilst concentrating on watching the reduction in tomato juice taking place in pan one.
How can you watch what's happening in one pan when you're expected to be doing stuff with another one? This is a mystery to me but eventually noodles were having a lumpy reddish oniony garlicy slop deposited over them with as much delicacy as could be managed. It wasn't worthy of a photo but both plates were emptied.
As they were on Monday tea time when I did teriyaki chicken. I cooked twice in a week which tells you a) how good a week it's been and b) things are still not as they were. It is also not without significance that neither of us have ever had these concoctions before and therefore no standard by which to make a judgement as to their quality. That is smart cooking!
It would seem the cycle 1 was attacked by over eager steroids and cycle 2 undermined by out of control infection that may have been present for a very long time but had for reasons unknown chosen cycle 2 to come out of the closet of my liver ducts intent on making mischief, which it did for a time with great success. Thankfully it wasn't as smart as the doctors arraigned against it.
Cycle 3 has begun in a surprisingly benign manner. Slept pretty much from Tuesday afternoon till Thursday morning when I woke up awake. Perhaps this was the most significant event for quite some time.
I even began the process of perusing a hard drive specifically dedicated to .jpg .cr2 and .raf files from 2002 to last February. Although it didn't take long for memories to overwhelm the physical effort of constant clicking before thoughts turned to the garage where proper stuff needed doing.
The intent was there but it only took 10 minutes to remove half the number of coach bolts necessary to remove a vice from a worm riddled bench before the tiredness set in. I consider it a victory that I gave in to it, lay down for a while and waited for its dispersal. Then I tried again but gave up till the following day. I can announce that when the whole family visited at the weekend the boys now men lifted my ancient bench with youthful ease and deposited it outside ready to be dumped.
So, chemo cycle 3 a wonder to experience which is far more than can be said of my cooking.
It's been a very good week. Our London friends left me with a copy of Amateur Photographer which answered a colour management question that has eluded me for ages and rekindled my desire to sort photos for over a decade neglected. And just yesterday morning a friend dropped in and left a photographic book to inspire both in black and white and in colour.
Thus, this very morning I saw a photo that just sums up the joy of having a house full of lively offspring and partners so I took it whilst I could and processed it immediately as I ought.
Taken with a fully recharged X100T which is a truly great camera and very, very light. Which is just as well as our grandson's father needs to borrow the 5D3 just as I was getting to grips with it again. Trying to get to grips with it really, as my right thumb trembles a bit under weight and pressure. A Canon 5D3 is not light and the right thumb does need to apply pressure to use its functionality effectively.
A great week, but still a way to go. Mustn't get too optimistic although the prospect of a much better way than hitherto is a reason to rejoice.
As are visits from family and friends, only them far more so.
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| The essence of offspring. Pure joy, utter delight. |
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