Techno cat

My addiction to Angry Birds has led the cat astray.  He obviously felt he was missing out on something, so he’s downloaded an app for cats (with some help from me).  Cyril is now staying up till all hours playing computer games instead of doing his homework.  Worst of all the iPad is covered in paw prints.

I’ve been struggling for things to write about recently (too right I hear you cry).  I mean, I was quite excited today to be able to walk to the post office and the supermarket (twice) and to check out the river level (a bit flooded, see below), as this indicates that my energy levels are at last somewhere approaching normal after the last lot of chemo.  However, I’m aware that that sort of thing is hardly a riveting read.  So I’m going to post every few days rather than every day in future.  No promises that it won’t still be boring though.

Rain, rain go away ...

Take me for a walk, pleeease

I’m not the only one who’s fed up of the rain.  Today we went to see S and J (and had a lovely dinner there – thanks S and J!).  They were looking after Toby (see above).  The rain was coming down like stair-rods but poor Toby wanted to go for w-a-l-k.  The look on his face says it all.  It’s even more pathetic than the other-half’s face when he has to walk past the local pub. 

Hurrah!

The other-half's refurbishments to the garden shed (paint and a flag)

Shrewsbury Town (the local football team, for non-local readers) beat some other team today to go up from Division Something-or-other to Division better-than-that-one.  (And yes, obviously, I am a football expert.)  Anyway the other-half was quite excited about this win so I’m hoping he will switch his allegiance from Wolverhampton Wanderers (who are beyond useless and have a truly vile black and orange kit) to Shrewsbury.  It might save us both from future fraught winter Saturdays.  This winter he got depressed virtually every Saturday when Wolves lost and I had to pretend to care.

Today I walked into town and back and made dinner.  Medal please.  I’m flopped out on the settee now but do feel like my energy levels are heading in the right direction at last (11 days after having the last lot of chemo). Maybe tomorrow I'll be rushing around like a whirling dervish (or maybe not).

Another rainy day but ...

Even though the rain has continued today, the other-half was as happy as a pig in muck.  He spent a contented morning rummaging around at a reclamation yard leaving me free to watch Homes under the Hammer undisturbed – so we were both winners.

In the afternoon we went to see M, J and little N for a catch up and posh biscuits.  A couple of days ago M sent me a cutting from the Sunday Times – an intelligence test for cats.  I answered the questions on behalf of my little genius, Cyril.  When I added up his points the result was ‘frankly a dimwit’.  Can’t argue with that.

The Birds

Contented birds

Today I waved goodbye to sis no 3 as she headed back to Singapore.  It’s been great to see her.  She’s been a brick, offering tea and sympathy, cooking soup and taking me to chemo (which involved waiting for an age).  However, I’m afraid all these good deeds have been negated by the dreadful thing she did yesterday. 

She introduced the other-half and I to Angry Birds. 

We thought we could handle it at first.  We were confident we could just take it or leave it.  But now the addiction has taken hold.  This morning we were snarling at each other trying to snatch the iPad out of each other’s hands to get our fix of the tweety little blighters.  Things at Discombobulated Towers may never be the same again.

Readers, I married him ...

Mr Charm and Personality

Today saw another helpful suggestion from the other-half.  I was resting on the sofa (more on this excitement later) when he waltzed in to the room wearing cress on his head, asking if I’d like it as a wig.  He says he is thinking of bringing out a line of edible hairpieces – including strawberries and tomatoes for summer.  No doubt he will still also expect me to eat said cress even though it’s been on his bonce.  I must have done something terrible in a previous life.

The nurse’s warning about the after effects of chemo being cumulative was accurate.  It’s now eight days since my last treatment and although I feel a lot better than I did at the weekend, I still have to rest every time I do anything.  So today went something like had bath, had a rest, had breakfast, had a rest, made bed, had a rest etc etc.  Dull, dull, dull!

But maybe I shouldn’t complain about ‘dull’ after the latest cat-astrophe.  During the night, unbeknown to us, Cyril knocked a vase of flowers over a jigsaw in progress.  Result?  About 100 pieces of soggy disintegrated jigsaw and a cat in disgrace.

Who, me?

On safari

I went out for a pub lunch today with the other-half and my sisters.  Afterwards we drove around the countryside for a bit and saw animals galore – ducks, chickens, bouncy lambs (shame on the sister who ate lamb shank in the pub), owls, pigs (real and otherwise, see below)

 And an elderly but gorgeous pub cat called Dram.

Earlier on in the morning we experienced high noon at Discoumbobulated Towers when Cyril came face to face (albeit through the dining room window) with Shouty Cat (the neighbourhood cat with a Very Loud Miaow).  Cyril did some serious yowling but, against type, Shouty Cat rose above such provocation and just sat snootilty on the garden wall.  Ah well, at someone behaved with some diginity.

Taking it easy

Picture from the Sis Photo Library - (it was this or me in my jim jams)

Over the past couple of days do you think I have been

a)      reclining gracefully, in a silk dress, on a deck chair in the sunshine reading poetry

or

b)      Moving grumpily, in crumpled pyjamas, from bed to sofa back to bed again listening to the pounding rain while whinging?

Yep, it’s B – the chemo effect.

Anyway while I’m still not firing on all cylinders I’m definitely starting to feel better today.  I even threw caution to the wind, got dressed and left the house.  I went to see my sisters for tea and sympathy.  They obliged – which was good medicine. 

Things have been very quiet here for the past few days so I don’t have anything to report.  The other-half has been bored out of his mind.  Yesterday he was like a kid who has to stay indoors for a rainy play-time.  I half expected him to start drawing on the walls, sledging down the stairs or setting fire to the shed.  In fact he’s in the garden right now, maybe I’d better go and check that the shed isn’t in flames.    

Wibbly wobbly

Last spring we went to Little Moreton Hall (see above) and very picturesque it was too.  Today I went out for a 15 minute walk and felt distinctly like the photo.  No, not beautiful and a national treasure but very wibbly wobbly and old.  Looking back over the past couple of chemo sessions it seems around about this time (3-4 days after treatment) that I have a couple of days of just being zonked, so if I go quiet for a bit (you should be so lucky) it’ll just be because I’m flat out on the sofa being hand-fed peeled grapes by the other half.

Egg head

What would I do without his help?

It's been a quiet day here at Discombobulated Towers.  I had planned to go out for a short walk but it was raining cats and dogs and rats and elephants for most of the day, so I chickened out.  Instead I made a start on the wedding day jigsaw, with the usual help from Cyril.

I woke up cold in the middle of the night.  I think it is due to me being a good 50% bald now.  My mum was right - she always used to say that you lose loads of heat out of the top of your head (usually as she plonked a hand-knitted delight on my head before I was allowed out).  Anyway I’ve got a couple of ‘sleep hats’ (and no they don’t have tassels).  So I put one of those on and warmed up in next to no time.  The other-half now tells me that waking up next to me is like waking up next to an egg in an egg cosy – is that better or worse than the eagle chick remark I wonder.

Step forward

This is what you'll be dealing with

I had my last reflexology session this afternoon.  Strangely there have been no takers to my previous requests for volunteers to rub my sweaty feet for an hour a week.  I can only think you are all shy.  So I’ll just draw up a rota and let you know (and don’t think living outside of the UK will excuse you).

I’ve finally worked out (with thanks to Sis No 3) how to download apps on my swanky new ipad.  I am now losing two games of online scrabble simultaneously.  I’m blaming chemo-brain.

So far, a day after my third chemo, the side effects are pretty much the same as the last two sessions, mild queasiness, tiredness, metallic mouth and foggy brain.  Not entirely unlike a hangover, or so I’m told.

Right, I’m off to draw up that foot rubbing rota, stand by your beds.

The longest day

Yes, I know it's a wonky rubbish photo - but I'm being all devil-may-care

Today was chemo day.  My blood test results were OK, so it was full steam ahead.  When I say ‘full steam’ I’m not really giving the true story.  Picture an arthritic snail moving backwards half-heartedly with a limp and you’ll have an idea of how long the process took.

My appointment was scheduled for 10.30am.  At about 11am a nurse came out and apologised saying that due to delays in the pharmacy my chemo hadn’t been prepared on time and I should come back at 12pm.  So my sisters, who had accompanied me, and I went off to the café for a cuppa.  We also got a paper and did the crossword.  I’m not sure I can describe the scene properly but we kept mishearing each other, getting things wrong and generally being dim.  It was a bit like an episode of the Golden Girls only with a lot more dementia and a lot less ice cream.

At 12pm I went back to the chemo unit.  When Sis No 3 came back to get me about an hour later I still hadn’t had my treatment.  Then when I was finally called I didn’t get to go to the swanky brand new chemo unit but, due to a lack of seats, to a poky disused office upstairs. 

However, the chemo itself went fine and the nurse was lovely, answering some questions I had left over from seeing the oncologist last time, giving me her contact number should I have further queries and generally being very encouraging.  Big tick to her!

However, after the chemo Nice Nurse went to get my medication only to find that the key to the fridge had gone missing.  Another nurse on the unit had burned herself and had had to go to A & E and they thought the key was with her.  Eventually all was sorted and we went home.  But it was a long day for me and no doubt also for my poor sister who certainly got more than she bargained for in terms of waiting around.

Meanwhile Sis No 1 had been doing her bit in the afternoon as a volunteer worker and then preparing my dinner.  It’s that pie again – hurrah. 

Having three older sisters has been a total pain in oh so many ways.  For example they all think they know better than me (how ludicrous is that?).  They also scarred me for life when I was about 7 years old when they got hold of Bunny (as pictured at the very top of the blog) held him by his ears and punched him across the room to one another.  I, of course, had been a little angel and done nothing to provoke them whatsoever.  I have other stories of their outrageous treatment of me – available to anyone who submits a small fee.  However, I have to say that I may have to let bygones be bygones (even though grudge holding is one of my hobbies) as they have been utter, utter bricks lately.  And don’t feel left out Sis No 2, I know you’ll be doing another one of your hotpots on return from Australia.   

The last dark and stormy (for now)

No, not that sort of dark and stormy

 

I had my blood tests this morning and as long as they are OK I’ll get my third lot of swamp juice (chemo) tomorrow.  After the blood test I went to my sister's for breakfast and then came home and ironed while watching two films on TV that were truly, truly dreadful.  So not a lot to report today.  Right now I’m enjoying a dark and stormy (dark rum and ginger beer).  This’ll be the last one for a while as I completely go off alcohol for a week or two after chemo – oh the injustice! 

As I have very little to say for myself today I thought I’d end with links to two v short films on YouTube. One about the trials of Henri the cat and then a sequel.  They made me laugh – especially the sequel (watch it until the end for the best bit).  Henri is a much more sophisticated cat than Cyril.

Sleep deprivation

Counting sheep obviously works for some

After Friday night's sleep deprivation, courtesy of my delinquent cat, I was looking forward to getting a decent kip on Saturday night.  So I'm sure you can imagine my joy when my next door neighbour decided to bring loads of mates back home after the pub for more drinking and rowdiness.  I can't really complain, he's a good neighbour and is very rarely noisy.  However in the early hours when he and his friends were screeching along to Fleetwood Mac's 'Go Your Own Way' I was ready to kill.  We were tempted to start hoovering or hammering nails into the adjoining wall at about 7am to get our revenge, but we are noble and rose above such pettiness.  Also I feel a bit sorry for my neighbour.  After all, he's in his twenties and he's listening to Fleetwood Mac!  I might be a sherry drinking jigsaw fan but even I wouldn't stoop to that.

We went to see pals J, M and little N for coffee and a catch up.  Little N, age two and a half,  loves the other-half (me? jealous?).  Mind you when Mr Tumble appears on TV there's no competition, the other-half loses out every time. So all I need to do is to get a Mr Tumble outfit sorted for my next visit then I'll be top banana.


  

The demon cat

Adorable pussy cat or evil ratbag sent to torment me?

So last night I stayed at my sister’s house.  For just one night.  I could’ve left the cat at home.  He would have been fine, maybe a bit lonely but fine.  However, my sisters and I are soft,so Cyril accompanied me on my night away.  And as a result of our kindness we are all completely shattered.

Things went well until we went to bed.  Sis no 1 went up first and Cyril followed to sleep peacefully, or so we thought, at the bottom of her bed (as he’s done previously when she has cat-sat).  About half an hour later, when Sis no 1 was lulled into a dozy sense of false security, the demon cat attacked.  Sis no 3 and I were still watching TV when we heard her shout of shock and terror as Cyril savaged her feet.  After that crisis was dealt with (sis's toes stitched back on) we all went to bed.  Everyone was just about dropping off to sleep when Cyril decided to start running up and down the stairs (repeatedly) with all the daintiness of a herd of elephants carrying several sacks of spuds.  Then he took to miaowing loudly and scratching at any door in the house which was shut (including wardrobe doors).  When he got bored of that he jumped on to my bed and beat me up (this involves tapping me on the face with claws out).  After a bit of that he relented and went to sleep.  By now it was about 1am.  Four hour later he decided it was breakfast time and the beating recommenced.  I caved in at 5.15am (not wanting to be clawed to pieces), staggered downstairs and fed him (then went back to bed).  Where have I gone wrong?  Are there such things as cat borstals?  Where can I get cat valium?

The other-half returned from his family shindig bringing much needed cake – thanks C!  We all (minus demon cat) headed out to Sugnall Hall Kitchen Garden and Jackson’s Coppice and Marsh  (see below).  Chilly but pretty and, best of all,cat free.

Sugnall Hall Kitchen Garden

Jacksons Marsh

 

On our hols

Lord of all he surveys

Just a quick one as Cyril and I are on our holiday.  We've done the long trek, about half a mile, to my sister's house.  Cyril loves it.  It's got big windows to look out of (one where he can even look without moving from an armchair, see above) and lots of throws to ruin with his claws.  I love it too, it's got red wine, yummy pasta and lemon meringue pie (and not out of a Birds mix either).  Meanwhile, the other-half is off at a big family shindig celebrating his twin brother's 25th wedding anniversary.  Congratulations N and S!

The good, the bad and the ugly (not necessarily in the right order)

The bad

This morning we went to Telford Shopping Centre.  It’s not really my cup of tea at the best of times (airless, over-lit and soulless) but I really wasn’t in the mood for it today.  Every single person in the place was annoying, loud and just plain wrong.  Why can’t everyone be the perfect superior being like me?  By the time we’d finished there the other-half and I were both double grumpy.  Oh joy.

The ugly

Also I’d decided to make the Telford experience even more of a delight by wearing my wig.  It was hot, itchy and uncomfortable.  As soon as I got back to the car I tore the wretched thing off and put on a nice soft hat instead. 

The good

After enduring ordeal-by-Telford we went for lunch at The Huntsman in Little Wenlock.  The building has been modernised to within an inch of its life but the food was scrummy.  And, more importantly, when we left we bumped into a Cyril lookalike only with the full compliment of legs, a complete tail and a much quieter miaow (see below). 

 

By now we were feeling much more mellow (half a pint of Peroni at the pub certainly helped) and headed back into Shrewsbury where we bought a wok.  The other-half, who has been doing heaps of cooking, now thinks he is the stir-fry king.  But, of course, a chef of his calibre can’t possibly cope with our sub-standard cooking equipment.  He found the wok he wanted … it was £62.00.  I was not impressed.  In the end we got one for £5.80.  Hey big spender.

We then had a stroll in the castle grounds (see below) then headed home for a cuppa.  My wild life.

  

Onwards

This picture (taken when I had hair) is supposed to represent me continuing on the treatment path although, with the way I’m walking, it does look a bit like I’d wet myself (I hadn’t). 

I saw the oncologist today.  But, horrors, it wasn’t the Anti-Doogie.  He was nowhere to be seen.  Instead I saw the head-honcho of the Oncology Dept.  We decided to call him Daddy Doogie (not to his face of course, we aren’t fools).  My CT scan has revealed little change in my condition.  My lungs and breast are about the same but there has been a slight improvement to my lymph nodes.  It would’ve been fantastic if there’d been a marked improvement all round, but, as I was convinced that things had deteriorated I wasn’t too disappointed by what Daddy Doogie said.  So my next lot of chemo goes ahead as planned on Tuesday (blood count permitting).  I will have another CT scan later to see how things are going.

In the afternoon I had more reflexology.  So my feet are all relaxed and happy again.  I thought today was my last appointment (the sessions are free provided via MacMillan) but I have one last appointment next week – so I shan’t be demanding foot rubs off you lot just yet, you can breathe a sigh of relief.  For now.

Rear Window and revoltingness

It was a quiet day here at Discombobulated Towers.  This afternoon I watched ‘Rear Window’ on TV (the Hitchcock film where, through his window, a wheelchair-bound James Stewart witnesses a murder in a flat across the way).  It was gripping stuff.  And it made me think … I bet some of my neighbours are up to no good, maybe committing murder and then transporting body parts across town in a suitcase (just like in the film).  So I’m stationing myself by the window binoculars at the ready.  Stand by for further reports.

Sis No 1 and Sis No 3 popped round with meals on wheels (scrummy curry) – hurrah.  Mind you they also tormented Cyril with an app which is basically a miaowing piano.  I’m probably going to have to take him for cat therapy to get over it.

Revolting news I forgot from Sunday:   The other-half was given a big Thorntons chocolate bunny (ta sis).  He took it out of its packaging and promptly dropped it on the floor. Whereupon a good half of it bounced into the cat's litter tray.  The other-half was distraught, only managing to save the legs, and when I say 'save' they still hit the floor - but he's not going to let a little thing like a million floor germs put him off.  In fact he did say that had the cat litter been fresh (it wasn't) he would've fished the rest of it out of the tray and eaten it too.  Classy.

Lucky ducks

Now you see him

Now you don't (sort of)

Cyril is a very happy cat.  He's got a new paper bag to frolic with.  I’ve had to make do with the bag’s contents – an iPad.  I know, an iPad!  I’m such a lucky duck.  And what’s more I got it working quite easily (well, with minimal swearing).  So I’m brilliant too.  Actually, I have reached a small impasse.  If I persevered I think I could work out the problem but instead I’m going to consult Sis No 3 because a) I’m lazy and b) I don’t want to press the wrong button and cause the end of the world Eddie Izzard style.

Well I can’t hang around, I’ve got Elle Decoration and Ideal Home Magazine arriving for a photo shoot shortly.  The other-half has found a solution to the tiramisu paint disaster.  Our dining room now has one and a third feature walls.  None of this boring one feature wall stuff for us, that’s so last year.  I predict that that soon all homes will be following our lead and Kevin McCloud will probably do a programme on us.   

The happity hoppity Easter bunnies or a cautionary tale

Once upon a time there lived a happy bunch of good little Easter bunnies

But one day they were lured away from their clean living ways by the demon drink

And the next day the bunnies were not happity at all

Had yummy Easter meal with Sis No 1, Sis No 3 and her husband.  There was much catching up and happity hoppity hilarity.  There may be some sore heads in the morning.

Tiramisu trauma

Top half old tiramisu + bottom half new tiramisu = the wall of death

The other-half decided to repaint one of our grubby dining room walls.  So, being a bright boy, he bought the same make and colour paint we originally used.  The name of the paint colour by the way is ‘tiramisu’, a very twonky name for pinky beige.  Anyway, it turns out there’s been a dramatic tiramisu recipe change, because the colour of the new paint is completely bloody different from the old version (see above).  This means that he now has to repaint the whole room and is not, to put it mildly, a happy Easter bunny.

Thankfully we had a welcome visit from Nev’s sister G and her other-half C.  It was great to see them and also stopped the other-half from beating his head against our now duo-coloured walls.  Thanks for the visit, chocolate and cheery flower (which doesn’t need watering – see below).

 

And that’s about it for today.  Oh, apart from Cyril’s new toy.  We got him a ball containing catnip thinking he’d chase it all over the house giving fun and hilarity for all.  Instead he just licks it relentlessly.  We now have a cat-spit sodden ball of felt rolling around.  Which makes walking around with bare feet a bit like Russian roulette.  Actually, come to think of it, cat-spit would be a good name for a paint colour don’t you think?

Easter chicks

Photo from here

My very short hair is now full of ever increasing bald patches.  The other-half, bless his cotton socks, informed me this morning that waking up next to me is like waking up next to an eagle chick.  I wasn't impressed.  However, on finding a photo (above) the undeniable truth is that eagle chicks are considerably cuter.

For the first time in ages I walked into town and back today and also strolled around the Farmers' Market.  It does feel a bit like I ran a marathon, but I am buoyed up by the knowledge that I have returned with close to my own body weight in bread pudding.  Food of the gods.



.

The incredible sulk

RHUBARB!

 

Rhubarb, rhubarb, RHUBARB.  That’s what I came close to shouting today in the middle of a busy chemist shop.  Although how the shop could be busy when the customer care they offer is worse than abysmal is beyond me.  The chemist could only partially fulfill my four item prescription.  The one item they didn’t have in stock was, of course, the most important.  Yeah, yeah I know, that’s just one of those things, but what got my goat, pickled my onion and generally made me hopping mad was this; the chemist neglected to tell me about not being able to provide the whole prescription until she had semi-completed it. Meaning (according to her explanation of secret and evil chemist rules) that I could not take the whole prescription away and go and get it somewhere else but had to accept an I.O.U with nothing from the chemist but a shrug and vague assurance that “the missing item should probably come in this afternoon, come back later” – and this at the start of a bank holiday weekend.  It was at this moment that I started to growl, turn green and smash up the display of Bronley soaps and English Lavender bath salts.  Well not quite, but I made my feelings felt (I’ve written before about my ‘chemo temper’).  The chemist then rang and checked that I would definitely get the medication that afternoon (well done Einstein) and things worked out in the end.  OK rant over.

Much more happily one of the other-half’s brothers and his family came over this afternoon – it was lovely to see them all.  Even if my traitorous cat totally fell in love with my niece F and wanted to go home with her.  F claimed not to have covered herself in fish paste or at least dabbed Whiskas behind her ears, but I cannot think of any other reason why Cyril would betray me for another woman unless, oh no surely not, he’s just a floozy. 

A heroic quest

Me?  Go outside?  You must be joking.

A week ago today I was strolling in the park in the sunshine, almost throwing caution to the wind and taking off my cardigan.  Today, however, it was snowy then slushy and continuously cold.  Cyril had the best idea (see above). 

The weather scuppered the other-half’s plans to spend the afternoon at the allotment and instead he went shopping for an airtight jug for storing juice which fits into our fridge.  Now you may think that this is something of a yawnfest.  But let me tell you this quest has proved to be much more arduous than you might have thought.  In fact, in years to come I think legends will be written about his trek from the wastes of Tesco to the high seas of Lakeland to the fertile fields of the House of Fraser in search of the jug of dreams.  In the end the gods smiled on him and he returned in full proud hunter/gatherer mode.  Behold!

Lo, the jug of dreams

I had to go out to the hospital for a CT scan this morning.   I was not particularly cheered by the radiologist saying (in what sounded like a concerned voice to me) “when do next see the oncologist?”  I have read all sorts of meanings in to that question.  I should get the results next week.  Hey ho.

In the afternoon, I went for another reflexology session which was, yet again, fantastically relaxing.  The hour whizzed by and I came away with feet smelling of orange/lavender/frankincense – anyone want a sniff?

Thank you!

Don't be fooled by this sub-standard photo, the gifts are lovely!

Since I last posted properly (yes, yes, I know it's doubtful if I ever post properly) I have been inundated with niceness yet again.  Thanks for the text messages and emails . I hope my secretary (the other-half) got back to you all promptly, if not please direct your complaints to him.

The postman has been busy again.  I’ve received scarves and a much needed warm hat in a lovely bag (ta S and J), a four leaf clover (ta S and P) both all the way from Australia, a touching heart from M and a spiffy card from C who’s been at the David Hockney exhibition down in the heart of darkness (London).

I’m afraid I’ve been out of sorts for a few days.  This is largely due to the side effects of the medication I take to counteract the side effects of chemo.  Let us say it has caused me some, ahem, ‘digestive distress’ (which is putting it mildly to say the least).  I shall now draw a veil over this, but if I tell you I will never be able to listen to a certain Johnny Cash song ever, ever again I think you will get the general idea. 

I’ve got a CT scan tomorrow with results the following week.  Must check my diazepam stash.

Zonked part 2

Well I spent most of the day in bed today.  I was warned by the nurse that the tiredness caused by chemo is cumulative and it seems she wasn’t fibbing.  The other-half has been gardening and nursing while Cyril has been taking it easy with me (see above).  I don’t feel as achy as I did yesterday so fingers crossed I start feeling a bit more lively soon.