Cancer 91

In Alencon.
The ferry today was not very busy, but it was still full of the odd people who catch ferries and go to France, such as schoolteachers and retired schoolteachers. Not that I want to stereotype people, but schoolteachers are basically middle class people who try to look different but in so doing they look even more like schoolteachers. You know the type, we all do.

The sea was rough, if I had not taken the Kwells I would have been seasick. Then again, I get seasick just thinking about the sea. It is a vile substance, smelly, wobbly, full of inedible fish, flat and boring. If I was prime minister I would abolish it, build dams across the North Sea and the English Channel, and drain it so I could drive to continental Europe with all those teachers. The Channel may have been a good thing in 1940 but it has outlived its purpose.

I visited the ferry shop. If, like me, you don’t drink, smoke or wear perfume it is pointless.

I am looking forward to holidaying in France. It has been a year since we were last there. We are escaping Christmas and New Year as usual. Christmas should be as it is in Spain, a half-day holiday. In the UK it drags on forever and so there is nothing special about it, just a commercialised nightmare, and then the pointless wait until the New Year, a wasted week in which little gets done. On top of that we now have to share Christmas with other festivals – it was bad enough having just one.

From today I am on my official break from chemotherapy, six weeks without being pumped full of poisons. I am hoping that I will feel better by the end of it, and that my body will recover from these annoying side effects. I realise I have been luckier than those who have to spend a week in bed after their treatment, or have more agonising side effects, but it has been bad enough and is/was building up with each cycle. The tiredness is the worst. I spent some time on the ferry sleeping. I never sleep on ferries. I am awake at night and rarely catch up in the day. I am a little worried about driving down to the Pyrenees, but it should be fine. My fingertips are so sore I cannot play my guitar – I know, I can’t play anyway – but I literally cannot press the strings down without agony. My face and head are still covered with festering itchy spots. My arm, where the PICC line was fitted, is also very itchy. My bowels, what is left of them, are in turn very loose and very hard. My feet are tender. My abdomen is painful. I get a sore throat too easily. The only thing not affected is my diet. If anything I eat too much, perhaps more than I did before. I had a kebab tonight. That is a first in France for me.

I know, it could be worse, and it will be, but not while I stay positive and don’t give in to sleeping and whinging too much about side effects. Oops….