Sunday, 27 December 2009


First of all, this is not going to be my best work, in regard to writing. I don't apologise for this, because it has just taken about 1 hour to muster the energy to plug in the laptop and logon, so think yourself lucky you're not staring at the previous blog entry.

I am back at home now, after my dad dropped me off, showing off some pretty good parenting skills for someone without a great track record of this sort of thing.

So, back on the sofa, in front of my HD TV with Sky HD. If I die here, I will die happy. I would hate to die in front on a non-HD TV with no Sky. That would be the modern equalivent of being run down by a bus with dirty underpants on.

Right then - a run down of my moans. I'm not sure where we left off on Christmas Day, but I started being sick before dinner, which was less insulting than doing it afterwards. I did manage to eat my dads traditional Christmas Dinner of monkfish and scallops, with all the roast trimmings.

At this point, I wasn't actually too bad - but as the afternoon wore on the nausea increased and although I was only sick once more, the nausea didn't go away all day. Or night.

Boxing day was pretty much a repeat. Sick twice. Lots of heavy nausea. My dad did manage to take me to a pub, as that's exactly where any recovering alcoholic with chemotherapy sickness needs to be. However, the soda water did help and I think me ol' man deserved a pint or two, as it can't be a lot of fun waiting on a thinning, white, pasty looking, vomiting person on the sofa - unless it was Kate Moss. He'd probably like that.

I went to bed early - the nights are tough - I hate them. It goes something like this. Dose off. Wake up every 20 mins in a panic, with a mouth as dry the bottom of a parrot cage - gulp water, wake up every 45 minutes to go to the toilet. Repeat about 15 times a night.

Today, I woke up feeling a bit better. The nausea had gone from 8/10 to 6/10 and was a welcome relief. I did manage to get around to see my lovely nan, uncle and family members - all who are (somewhat embarrasingly) reading this blog. It was good to see them, although my contribution to the conversation was a bit limited.

Whilst all this was happening, I was introduced to a new side effect - a sore mouth.

I was warned about this ... it feels really strange - tastes metallic. The inside of my mouth feels sore, raw and eating is a challenge really.

Speaking of which, the appetite has taken a nose dive and I'm must not sure what I want to eat, if anything.

The nausea ramped up again later and ... Oh, Christ - I'm boring myself now. It's fair to say that I'm quite shocked at how RUBBISH I feel after one dose of this stuff and I must confess that I'm really not looking forward to the next few months.

I'm praying that tomorrow I can get out to see Avatar, which I have pre-booked tickets for at the London iMax. I've been looking forward to this for a while. I guess if I puke into a carrier bag whilst watching the film, people will just assume it's the 3D effect.

OK - that's enough of my pity pot. I'll let you go now ... come back soon to hear me moan some more.

Oh yeah, I still have all my hair.

1 comment:

suzy said...

ah shame I missed seeing you.
Next time you're in the area....
You did make me laugh when you wrote about the pub scene.
One thing I've learned from Mum is one day at a time...don't be too hard on yourself. love Suzyxx