Yes, definitely into the good days again. I feel fine. A little bleary but no aches.
I have a suspicion that my weight is going up. Up a kilo since treatment started. That’s a good sign, though while on the subject of symptoms, I have to report that the eczema on my legs has returned, not seriously but it hasn’t completely gone. I’m not using the hydrocortisone creams on it though, just using moisturisers. It seems more useful to keep it showing as a monitor for what’s happening inside, rather than suppressing it from without.
More emails from family and friends came in today. Thank you all. Sending my on-line diary out to my scattered friends has resulted in an avalanche of love which I will quietly and slowly reply to. What an abundance of love and support. I’m quite overwhelmed. And to those who don’t write, I didn’t expect it and don’t ask it. I’m doing the writing right? And I know you’re all there. For those have written to me in the last two days I will get back to you but it may take a while because I have to make the most of these good days before the next chemo shot on Tuesday.
And that means more bus works up at the barn. I get up there for midday, later than I’d hoped but things just take more time these days. It’s okay. There’s the bus, waiting for me, with the wings and panels and doors laid out waiting for fitting. This is going to be fun. But as always there are a series of little jobs to be done before I can do what I thought I was doing. Little bits of painting and tidying up, and then spraying wax oil into hidden but vulnerable sections where the rust eats away and you can’t see it. Messy work, and I wear my overalls and full face mask again to protect from the atomised oily gunk.
But finally the nearside wing is bolted up and it looks fantastic. I love that paint!
I get home at 7.30 and hastily put on rice, pick salad from the garden, and grill a piece of salmon. Nurse Gaynor – I know you said ‘no salad’ concerned about my low immune count and if you read this I’ll be in trouble, but thoroughly washed organic salad picked by me from my garden? I’m taking that chance…
Paul is coming to play some music with me tonight and go through some fiddle tunes. I’ve not been playing at all for some weeks possibly even months really. So while the food is cooking I get out my mandolin, tune up and play a bit. I’m pretty rusty. Supper is delicious though, my sense of taste has recovered.
We run through a few tunes and my playing picks up. It’s always refreshing to play with just another instrument rather than the full-on sessions where the mandolin and any subtlety tends to get swamped. I need to put some more time in though, I want to. The works on the bus are dominating all my good days not surprisingly, but once it’s back on the road I’ll get to step back a bit and find more time for music, for reading, for talking. No one believes me of course. It’s always like “No Hadge, there will always be another massive project on!” Well, we’ll see.
Marta had called to say why not come over later, as they had some friends for supper and maybe play some music afterwards. I mention it to Paul, and we head round the corner and join the party. I’m feeling good, good energy and very happy to be there. Lots of chat and laughter, good to see everyone, Alessandra, Sean, Rachael. And after a while Greg gets out his guitar and we play between conversation, Paul’s lovely chords and picking, mandolin leading, Greg sliding lightly harmonically over the top. Not to mention the erratic and sometimes inspired percussion from other members of the table! It’s good to be out, but suddenly my energy slumps, the notes go astray and it’s time to go. Paul comes too and its been a great evening.