Outside the storm is raging. Living in a rural area, exposed on the edge of the Atlantic, (a few fields away from the sea to be exact) we get to experience the elements in all their glory. Over the weekend, rain, hail and sleet hammered against the window panes threatening to break them. The weather has worsened so much. My four cats have developed Velcro claws when this type of weather descends. It is simply impossible to prise these cats from the various places they languish, lazily, as cats do…backs of chairs, sofas, beds…Tonight however, three voluntarily went outdoors at bedtime. The fourth is a demon. An evil eyed, total black beauty. The bane of my life.
I took down my small Christmas tree today, along with the few bits and bobs of tartan, fairy lights and ornaments. It was a slow process and my to-ing and fro-ing to the box that they live in, left me exhausted. I use a three wheeled walker indoors which seemed to be particularly clumsy today. The demonic cat is petrified of it for some strange reason and kept darting around it, trying to keep clear, but almost causing me to trip over my own feet several times. Once I had everything boxed/bagged, hubby stored it all away in the spare room. I told myself for the umpteenth time, I’m NOT doing this palava next year. Why do I still bother? It surely isn’t worth the effort. Then I threw some left-overs on a couple of plates and called it dinner and collapsed in the armchair, acutely aware of a painful area on my side. I probably twisted awkwardly without realising it.
I retired to bed for the night around midnight. Weary and bad tempered, tearful and a little scared. Weary because I just was, and bad tempered because I hate this damn disease and resent what it has done to me. What it has stolen from me. I feel I am a shadow of my former self, and I hate it so much. Tearful and scared because I am waiting for a phone call this week with a date for surgery for (hopefully) next week.
A cancerous lump discovered in my breast two weeks before Christmas is to be removed. I am angry because I feel ppms is enough to have to deal with. Diagnosed just over two years ago, in the space of one weekend! Without any symptoms or warning. It has gathered speed since last Christmas really, and I notice the diminishing of my capabilities/abilities almost on a weekly basis. Is this not enough?! Now I will need day surgery, and six weeks after the procedure I will undergo five weeks of radiotherapy, for five days each week. This will take place at the “centre of excellence” in a city two hours drive from my home. Every day, there and back, for five weeks. My husband, my carer, will be doing the driving. He now does pretty much everything indoors where I can no longer do so. This is just another tiresome task he will have to endure without complaint. Our early retirement that we worked so hard for, was never meant to look like this. I am a very “young” 58 year old! I loved my solo travel, garden, drive, walk on the shingle beach on a stormy day… Am I feeling sorry for myself? Yes, I suppose I am.
Demon cat had no intention of settling down on the bed, as I tried to sleep. As the wind howled and raged, he jumped on and off the bed. Tormenting me as he walked along the length of my body, eventually wanting to go out. I got up and shuffled to the back door. As I slid it back gale force wind whipped in and demon cat ran back to the bedroom. I’m sure I heard him laughing at me. I was swearing like a trooper as I shuffled back, and chased him (visualise it!) back towards the open door and eventually outside.
So, I have rambled and ranted until it’s now almost 3am. I will return to bed and try to sleep once more. Good night, if anyone has read this far. Tonight it’s not just the wind that is raging.