Day 9

Yesterday was the first half-day working since chemo. Sat in a flood-induced traffic jam, wondering if medical science was saving me to be able to sit in lots of future traffic jams. Two meetings went well, finished early, got home, but then power outage kicked in and had to go to bed.

Side-effects becoming more pronounced now. Peripheral neuropathy affecting hands and face – a creeping numbness which only exacerbates the omnipresent hangover and tinnitus. Sleeping becoming harder, and always disrupted by the volatile lung residue and chemical dreams of Doctor Who’s intro.

On the plus side; cannula bruisings receding nicely, appetite still good, no sickness. It is however increasingly clear why some people refuse chemotherapy; it seems that you have to kill most of your own troops in order to win the war (which is not exactly guaranteed, either). That’s one hell of a choice for anyone.

Having seen her famous Cheltenham Chowder immortalised on this blog, Aunty Betty has now moved up a gear to semi-industrial production, with a very welcome half-gallon delivery yesterday.

Memo to Rick Stein: In tests, 10 out of 10 chemotherapy patients expressed a preference for Aunty Betty’s recipe.