I was doing so well. The latter part of last week went quite smoothly and, while I did have the obligatory head and stomach pains, the second chemo bout seemed much less troublesome than the first.
This was partly because I knew what to expect, and was prepared, but I also seemed much less tired. Mr P. and I even made it out into Chiswick on Saturday for a leisurely lunch and stroll. Sunday too, we were out. Off to Windsor to see Mr. P’s family for a lovely lunch – (thanks to our ‘Domestic Goddess’, Neil) – and to celebrate Mothers’ Day.
I’d put a call in to my Mum too; the fine old girl that she is. My being ill has hit her very hard and brought back lots of memories of when my Dad was having treatment, so clearly she was delighted to hear that my tumour has reduced.
So everything was very positive ... until Mr P. started coughing. This has since become a bone of contention. He maintains that I gave him my sore throat last week, and he has merely returned the favour, but suffice to say the two of us are both now very unwell.
Obviously, I’m keeping an eye on things: taking my temperature regularly and have got the ‘spare’ anti-biotics the Doctor gave me on standby. But my immune system is completely shot.
It’s really crap timing, too - tomorrow is Mr P’s birthday. I was hoping to do something nice but it looks like being a quiet night in: just me, him ... and our good friend Dominos!