The problem with a 1720 appointment

Mask on and suitably dressed this time, so no more comments to make people shudder with regard to my top half, the deed was done. The pebble in the ‘done’ jar has a friend. First time today that I really started to realise the enormity of the time ahead. Staying at home for most of the day watching naff television before the journey made me realise that I have to find something meaningful to do before I get too ill and grumpy to do much. More reading a definite but might also blow the dust of a paint box!

Ran like clockwork at the hospital and even got in a little early. This did mean that I left at peak time from the hospital. Traffic was annoying and heavy. People were trying to cut in ahead on every road around London…not quite in that driving mode yet. M11 was closed from the M25 junction to Harlow leading to a queue. Skipped down M25 to A10 then home. Only took me 1 hour 30 mins for the 40 minute journey. This was the problem with the 1720 appointment.

Big day tomorrow as it is the first Chemotherapy day. Got to be there at 0930. Radiotherapy after. Lots of pebbles to move. By afternoon tomorrow I will have had 2 radiotherapies and one chemo in 24 hours. Probably be tired.

Pictures today are of my face after wearing the tight mask….gives a beautiful pattern and the pebble jars. The ‘done’ still looks a bit woeful.

https://www.dropbox.com/sc/rowsvwmls9mfz2v/AADlxbddm2Ts06HuMAnuR6jca

Love to all.

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One thought on “The problem with a 1720 appointment

  1. Crazy isn’t it that it takes something as horrid as this for us all to pause, take stock and think, what shall I do in the time available whilst I am still able?
    For the last 10 days or so I’ve been searching. Searching for my external hard drive that pretty well has teaching stuff on it from the past 20 years out of my 23 year career. Moreover, it’s got family photos and personal documents etc so you could say it’s most of my adult life. Not having it has been a bugger. I have looked in the oddest of places, unfastened sofa covers, lifted & moved furniture, and once I exhausted all of the regular and possible places I then began asking folks. That’s always the embarrassing bit – admitting you’ve lost something and you need help to find it. Having asked around and even sent texts to people whose homes I’d visited, I was brought to the point no one really wants to go. Sending the mass email announcing to all staff that you are unreliable, can’t be trusted, a complete nincompoop. Going into my classroom to compose the confession I just thought I’d delay by first of all putting a box back on the shelf by my desk. And as I did so, my life flashed before my eyes – the small silver box that is my hard drive was and had been on the corner of my desk, behind the monitor. I’d not been able to see it from my usual vantage point, but a change of perspective was all I needed.
    My relief at being reunited with the silver box (and not having to admit to the world that I am a complete bozo) soon changed to frustration with myself. I hadn’t lost the box, I’d just forgotten where I’d put it. Just as I’d forgotten where I put my keys a few months ago and my wallet a time before that. I was frustrated that I consistently allow myself to live life in such a way I forget the important things and can’t grasp the things that are literally under my nose. Regrettably I know it’s the same with my faith, I forget the things I’ve been told, the things I’ve read, the experiences I’ve had and before I know it, I’m frantically going off searching for things that are actually within reach if I only take the time to remember…

    I hope you do manage to dust off the paint box and let your imagination loose and that the snake skin appearance doesn’t last too long after each treatment… though it does look rather cool.
    Take care big fella
    mogs

    Like

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