Tuesday, 25 November 2008

Flu

Well … there have been a few developments since last we spoke. The good news is that my kidneys, on further inspection, seem to be coping okay. I am having a renal scan tomorrow to confirm this, but hopefully the need for stents will be postponed for now. However, I started the bone strengthening injections last week and have to say that, to my surprise, the side-effects were worse than those of the chemo! As always there is a list of potential problems, but the main side effect is the onslaught of flu symptoms. Now, all women know and accept that men get flu much more severely than they do … and quite regularly too. However, even by men’s standards this wasn’t good. A lot of joint pain, which made moving around very difficult, and painkillers had to be taken during the night in order to get some sleep. That said, today things are pretty much back to normal and so all I need to do is factor this in ... plan for lazy days (no problem there) and stash up on codeine tablets. I didn’t realise until this first infusion, but I will be on these indefinitely, every four weeks. Better get used to it, I suppose.
I think I will be having the radiotherapy blast to my bones in the near future. I am seeing my doctor tomorrow and no doubt he will be able to fill me in.

At school we are on the final rush to Christmas. I can't believe it! Parties, nativities, a visiting theatre production ... complaints about parties, nativities, a visiting theatre production. Ooooh I love it!
















Futures

Allowed the privacy of a side ward
to let the doctor’s words settle,
dig in,
draw blood.

Instead, you came to mind.

The evening before High School
and we are plotting our futures,
heading home on the park’s straight path
to roomy blazers broad on hangers,
pressed shirts next to new ties.

We didn’t foresee the misty bend
on the Crieff road.
You, at 24 - gone in an instant (the police assured).
Me, now- dying in slow motion,
examining the kerb, wall, ditch
and road markings you missed,
that tore past you
as fast as childhood.

for Ian Douglas Mitchell
1964 - 1988