On Christmas Eve I took my last chemotherapy tablet and had a C.T scan which showed I was clear of cancer, although I wouldn’t get the news until after the New Year because of the Christmas festivities. What a wonderful Christmas present, belated though it was.
A fairy tale ending? Yes, in a way, but it wasn’t the end. My scars are visible but Pat’s scars are mental ones and are not visible. Mine night fade but it’s doubtful that hers ever will. Even now she watches me like a hawk while I’m eating for signs I might be suffering in some way. Having lost a part of my oesophagus, a part of my stomach and a part of my bowel my lifestyle would have to change. I had lost nearly two and a half stones and was advised it was unlikely I would ever put the weight back on. On one occasion, after I had had a shower, I plucked up the courage to look at myself in a full-length mirror. I was shocked. I have never been a vain man with regard to what I look like and don’t believe that even a Savile Row tailor could make me look any better than a ‘bag of spanners’ but a ‘bag of bones’ I was not going to put up with. That would have to change.
I was advised to try and go for walks to help me get my strength back, but within weeks Covid came along. Being on the ‘at risk’ register I was confined to my home, as was Pat, obviously. I would not have survived Covid in my frail state had I been infected by it. This placed even more pressure on Pat as she constantly and relentlessly cleaned everything in the house to prevent any risk of infection.
I cannot, even now, enjoy a restaurant meal because I can only eat a very small amount at a time. Trying to explain this to waiters/waitresses is embarrassing although I’m sure they understand but I do not want to deprive Pat of her enjoyment, so I take her out then sit and watch her eat. At home it is a case of ‘little and often’ so I’m constantly snacking and on holiday it has to be buffet style so I can pick and choose what I want and how much.
I can now work in my garden and do the housework duties I am responsible for but I have to limit what I do and take plenty of breaks. The same applies to walking.
This doesn’t prevent me from enjoying life in general and has prompted me to do some new things such as painting and to continue with my reading and listening to music.
To go back to something I mentioned when I was going through the first phase of chemotherapy, in an idle moment during Covid I came across the short story that I started to write but never finished. Amazingly, the story was still etched on my mind, so I finished it. It was a simple and gentle story that everybody who read it said they enjoyed. My eldest granddaughter pressed me to write another and I then went further to write a novel which I had two offers to publish but declined for financial reasons. Subsequently I have realised that it isn’t good enough anyway but hope to go back to it some time in the future to improve it.
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