Washing line

Only one more Chemo session to go after today. That really is something to look forward to. The nurses are lovely but they wipe me out of energy and verve. Long day with leaving for North Mid around 0900 and getting back through rush hour to arrive home just after 6pm, Could have been worse but for a tired and in pain chap it was tough.

Thank you for continued wishes of good health, luck and concern. All words greatly appreciated. I really like knowing what is going on in the world. It gives me something to dream about other then just treatment. Bit stuck with the reading, listening and watching as it takes too much effort. I do a good line of staring into space for up to three hours hoping I can get to sleep through the pain. Bill thanks for the book and I enjoyed reading your card Laura – and thank you for the gift I will use when pulling through all of this. After tomorrow’s radiotherapy we start the traditional countdown from 10….

When thinking of how to describe myself at the moment I could only think of a washing line. If you imagine I have been hung up to dry at the beginning of this process. All that was me, was inside, but through the rigours of what has happened – the highs and lows- slowly all that was Mark has leeched out. There are still some remnants there and without the awsomeness of the wife and friends there would be a lot less. Part of the process of recovery is going to recapture what Mark Self was and then put it back into the washed up battered shell. We all know when things are opened you cannot quite get it all back where it once was. With any luck my new style of packing will make things better than they were. If I can just make it through the every day, every hour, every second pain, the relentless need for travel and treatment, the waiting, the sheer challenge of being then I know it can all be mended again. The hope of better things in the future is what I must cling to. Enough of being a maudlin so and so. Be well.


One thought on “Washing line

  1. Selfy oh -one- oh -five,

    sorry I didn’t write last night, I was out at a Thanksgiving dinner. I don’t know if you’ve ever sampled an American Thanksgiving dinner before, but when you is well again, we ought to have one as a staff. Carbs galore, and decadent doesn’t do it justice. Fancy sweet potato casserole with butter, maple syrup and topped with marshmallows and pecans or sweet-corn with cream cheese, cream and bacon, or green beans with mushroom soup and fried onions. The list could on and on and on, each guest bringing a side. It was delicious.
    At the end of the meal the tradition is for everyone to take a turn giving thanks for something. It was a really moving occasion as folks still gave thanks even though during the last year, one had just been divorced, one had had a miscarriage, two are having marriage counselling and one had had a heart attack. I’m so grateful for all my blessings and realise with the trials friends like you are going through, we must never take them for granted.
    I understand that you feel washed out, and whilst you’re right to think that you won’t be able to stuff back all the old Mark in, I don’t think that that is something you should be fearful of. The Survivors who I have met are different from their old selves, better. Hopefully none of us remain the same old person we once were for that means we’re not learning from our experiences and each other.
    Let the peg keep you on the line and once you’re dry and ironed out, let’s have that thanksgiving meal and give thanks.


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