[ UPDATE 23rd March]
I had the results back from the biopsy (if that’s the correct term) on the lump and they got it all out intact which was good.. though it seems it was a grower and would have started to 'seed' itself merrily elsewhere had it stayed in. Yikes. I came out of the consultation mixed up with relief, incredulity and a sobering feeling of having just side stepped a steam train.
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Pyjamas in the daytime
I've been spending some time with an old guy in the past few days. He's preoccupied with things that I don't normally notice, for example: who has walked past the house and what their journey might be for, the changing colour of the sky, are there more Robbins or blue-tits at the bird feeder today, is it time for another cup of tea. A lot of his time is taken up with stroking the dog, or standing looking out of the window, small tasks measured out in silent intervals of 20 minutes or so.
I can’t blame his lethargy on old age though (come on, this is a little imaginary excursion anyway and he’s not actually corporeally with me) but on five days or more of codeine.. that bowel-stopping, brain-numbing narcotic analgesic post-op wonder drug.
I've cajoled him into walking down to the village twice, once to get the dog out to save the boys doing it when they got home from school, and once just for something to do. He's a nice old fella (I’d say that - I’m biased) but with different interests and preoccupations to me and whilst its been gratifying to keep him company I'll be happy to say cheerio to him soon and leave him out there in my future as I return to the world of meetings, deadlines, kids outings, taxi-ing about, nights out, writing, game playing, shopping and all the stuff he’s left behind.
One thing that did make him smile and feel happier about handing the reins back to contemporary me was a letter through the door on Wednesday that said I had come second in the Huddersfield Short Story competition, which I entered just before I went in for the lump-ectomy. I beat ‘scores’ of entries so I’m pretty chuffed with my scar faced self. The 'prize' is the honour of reading the whole thing out to an invited audience at the inaugural Huddersfield Literature Festival .. I’d gulp if it wasn’t so painful just now ;-)
I had the results back from the biopsy (if that’s the correct term) on the lump and they got it all out intact which was good.. though it seems it was a grower and would have started to 'seed' itself merrily elsewhere had it stayed in. Yikes. I came out of the consultation mixed up with relief, incredulity and a sobering feeling of having just side stepped a steam train.
----
Pyjamas in the daytime
I've been spending some time with an old guy in the past few days. He's preoccupied with things that I don't normally notice, for example: who has walked past the house and what their journey might be for, the changing colour of the sky, are there more Robbins or blue-tits at the bird feeder today, is it time for another cup of tea. A lot of his time is taken up with stroking the dog, or standing looking out of the window, small tasks measured out in silent intervals of 20 minutes or so.
I can’t blame his lethargy on old age though (come on, this is a little imaginary excursion anyway and he’s not actually corporeally with me) but on five days or more of codeine.. that bowel-stopping, brain-numbing narcotic analgesic post-op wonder drug.
I've cajoled him into walking down to the village twice, once to get the dog out to save the boys doing it when they got home from school, and once just for something to do. He's a nice old fella (I’d say that - I’m biased) but with different interests and preoccupations to me and whilst its been gratifying to keep him company I'll be happy to say cheerio to him soon and leave him out there in my future as I return to the world of meetings, deadlines, kids outings, taxi-ing about, nights out, writing, game playing, shopping and all the stuff he’s left behind.
One thing that did make him smile and feel happier about handing the reins back to contemporary me was a letter through the door on Wednesday that said I had come second in the Huddersfield Short Story competition, which I entered just before I went in for the lump-ectomy. I beat ‘scores’ of entries so I’m pretty chuffed with my scar faced self. The 'prize' is the honour of reading the whole thing out to an invited audience at the inaugural Huddersfield Literature Festival .. I’d gulp if it wasn’t so painful just now ;-)
