Half Life - 61 - Happy New Year?

Half Life – 61 – Happy New Year?

December 31st, 2021

It was bound to hit at some point and as we pulled into the week after Christmas, it did. Pain, stiff joints, backaches, shoulder aches, exhaustion, and a deep sense of feeling sick the whole time was the gift granted to me. The minor miracle that had been Christmas Eve through to Boxing Day, where energy levels were good and I was spared the drama the previous first week of this treatment had provided, came to an end on the 27th.  The idea of having nothing unpleasant happen as a consequence of all the drugs injected was excessively optimistic. Had it been plain sailing the whole way I would have started to wonder if they had given me nothing but saline by mistake.

Sadly, my experiments with self-prescribing doses of Dexamethasone, the steroid that really works in terms of reducing pain and swelling, were frowned upon by my oncologist, the wise Dr T.  It’s a shame, but he’s right and I have obeyed his injunction not to do it again. My hidden stash remains just in case the pain overtakes my desire to adhere to medical expertise. Until then I rely on painkillers and the smaller daily dose of a milder steroid which comes as part of the overall chemo package. By way of compensation part of the treatment involves a large dose of Dexamethasone for a couple of days just prior to the start of each cycle. It’s the only time I look forward to; the relief is extraordinary if only temporary.

Even with the rollercoaster pointing downwards for the week it was a better than before. Spending most of the day in my usual chair is not ideal but is still a small victory. Simply making it downstairs and resisting the temptation to stay in bed all day counts as a success. Previously the exhaustion was so severe bed had been the only option. Still prone to sudden and intense bouts of sleepiness the danger to my laptop, however, is serious. It has been saved on several occasions from crashing to the floor by jamming itself between my legs or being caught at the last moment. As my main window on the world its demise would be a disaster, even if it would provide an excuse to buy a shiny brand new one in the January sales.

Looking into next year, an obligatory requirement for any newsletter sent on New Year’s Eve, there is a predictability I won’t be able to avoid. Just after the year opens cycle five of the ten cycle treatment starts, and that will keep giving its unique gifts all the way to the end of May. There are plenty of complications waiting to jump in and push that into June or even later, not to mention the myriad of other diversions which could derail the whole thing entirely.

Assuming schools re-open The Boys will struggle themselves out of bed in the dark and return to the usual rhythm. Games kit will be forgotten, homework left to the last minute, and washing will pile up in the corner of bedrooms until, in desperation, it walks on its own to the washing machine. The need to maintain a sense of normality will become all the more important as the cumulative nature of chemo makes it unpredictable. They will need to cope with a potentially even more difficult parent; grumpy, sore, and tired. In addition to forcing myself up every day my ambition is to find the energy to get back to writing the sequel to my adventure novel. It will be hard but having a target, even if I inch towards it, tiny step by tiny step, will keep me focused and provide a sense of purpose. 

Away from home, what else will rear its head? It is hard to believe covid won’t dominate the news and our lives, or Boris won’t find some new way of embarrassing himself and then get away with it. Most of us hope Biden makes it through the year but are worried he might not, and remain happy Trump is still not on allowed back on Twitter. As we kiss a happy goodbye to last year it is fair to say there were good bits, some very good in fact, and there were some utterly crap bits. The hope for 2022 is high as I wish everyone a Happy and very much better New Year.