Half Life – 47 - prepping
September 24th, 2021
It’s not prepping to the level of stockpiling beans, rice, tins of meat, a crossbow, and a shotgun, in a cave burrowed into the side of the mountains of Montana waiting for the end of the world. But knowing, with a level of certainty, what is coming, when and how long for changes your priorities and what you want to get done before it hits. Salami, unpasteurised cheese, rare cook steaks, and eating out have all become the focus of desire given they will be out of bounds very soon. Not challenging the immune system when weakened by poisonous chemicals results in a very reduced range of food options. Inevitably, all the favourites are at the top of the banned list, so every opportunity to grab them has to be taken before time runs out.
Similarly, the restrictions on eating out, combined with what will be a very reduced desire to do so, precipitated research into restaurants capable of satisfying months of future food cravings. Top of the list was the longing for a ‘BBC’ – a Bloody Big Chinese – involving an excess of dishes, a huge table, and most of a Sunday afternoon to graze through it all. Such was the manic passion generated by the restaurant’s menu, I’d managed to order a stack of dishes before anyone else had even had a chance to think about it or ask the waiter any questions. As the parade of roasted Chinese duck, crispy pork, dim sum, noodles, spiced squid, more dim sum, and many others kept coming I tried to reassure the long suffering friends who had agreed to join us that we would be ordering other things too. The sheer volume indicated that my enthusiasm had, perhaps, been excessive and they were stuck with a very personal view of what a huge Chinese lunch should consist of. Luckily, the food was every bit as good as promised and the friends claimed to love it simply because it wasn’t what they would have ordered themselves. Next time, I have been informed by The Wife, I will not be allowed to either hold the menu or speak to the waiters.
From what had looked like a calm week as The Boys headed off to school on Monday morning took a few hours to transform itself into a flurry of clinic trips, appointments, and deliveries. Kicking off, as a result, the connected scramble to re-organise other arrangements, as the medics snapped up all the best times and days. Cancer forces you to let people down, with every coffee, phone call, or zoom chat coming with the warning that a last-minute cancellation is possible. It hits the whole house. The Wife and The Boys get forced to drop plans that have been in the diary for weeks to allow a hospital appointment to happen or an injection to take place. Although always the right decision to go to the appointment over the planned coffee catch up, it’s a wretched feeling to let people down. Not only do you not get to see or chat to the people you want to, but also, it’s often the sense you might not be able to re-schedule. Friends from abroad in the country for only a short time, or travelling past The Village just that day, often can’t get back again for a long time. Like salami and blue cheese, I am sure I will see them in the future, just not sure when.
The week ended with multiple holes in every arm as the medics drained what felt like pints of blood, followed by hours of being fed in and out of tubular machines to provide every possible type of scan. It would be fair to say they know me inside out. The usual request to see the scans, or at least some still shots from the scans to get a view of how my internal companion is doing, were met with the equally usual muttering and suggestion they will see what they can do. Last time it took weeks to just get a single image. All that is left to see is if I pass the tests to let me onto the trial and so fire off experimental drugs as part of the much-needed re-launch of the attack on Nobby. He’s had too many weeks of being undisturbed and needs shaking up. Fortified for the impending chemo-adventure by a short journey around all the food and drink I am going to miss, I am sure it will help with his demise. There must be some therapeutic benefit from dim sum and Chinese roast duck.
Salivating now - yum yum! Rooting for you that you get on the trial land it is successful! Keep on writing...
Lots of love to you and your, Charles. The chinese sound fun!