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Well, what a surprise.
What a difference a day makes.
I had a rest day yesterday, I know! . . . . shoot me.
There he was, showered, smiling, welcoming and talking OMG. I could not believe what I was seeing. Or hearing. Today was the first time in a few long weeks I have been able to have a conversation with him. He has been drinking water too, and swallowing it, and not gagging. I just cant believe the difference. He is a new man. Well not really but you get me right?
He told me how he has been walking around the hospital every so often. He has even been outside dog spotting. We sat in the cafe for a while and he tried a small coke, of all things not healthy, but I didn't care. I just kept staring at him. I was feeling happiness I haven't felt for quite some time.
So we have a plan. Well he has. His nasogastric tube needs replacing as the input valve is cracked, because someone did it up too tight . . . soooo he thinks because he is starting to swallow water successfully he may be able to go back to the drinks the dietician gave him before the tube went in. Maybe. I am sceptical, however if the tube comes out tomorrow and he comes home and tries the drinks, if after 24 hours he cant manage then I will drag him back in to have another tube put it. Sounds reasonable yeah?
I am still in shock. He looks so much better today. Even his colour has returned to normal. He has a funny looking moustache and a beard which is only on his upper cheeks. His hair didn't all fall out from the chemo, just in some patches, like his whole chin and the spot where his CPAP strap goes behind his head. I kinda like it. He's got that salty scruffy sailor that's been at sea for a while look.
I got to really hug him today too. I have missed that. He gives good hugs. And I linked arms with him while we walked downstairs. I've missed walking with him. Funny what you realise you like until you don't have it for a while. I was squishing his bicep. It felt nice.
too much? sorry. not sorry.
On the home front, the house has been seriously neglected throughout this PC journey. I thought while he was in hospital I would get really motivated and do all of the things that I didn't do when we first moved in. HA. Nup. Nuthin. Zero. My mental state is at the point where I don't give a fuck about anything other than his health. Sad because I really wanted to get a few things in order before he came home so that he doesn't have to stress. He is a huge stress head.
I'm not. I learnt years ago how not to, and why stress is a choice . . . . but that's a topic for another blog.
So I have employed a cleaner for a day. Tomorrow actually. She will do a spring clean for us. I will feel great when I come home. He will think I've kept the house in order (unless he reads this). Hopefully it will give me a boost, a pick-me-up, a shot of adrenaline, or something to keep me going, as I suspect I will be doing the hovering dance over him for the next few days and weeks.
Thanks you all for your messages of love, prayers, hugs and wisdom.
You might notice that I don't reply to most comments about my man on social media. It doesn't mean I don't care or am not thankful. It's a strange one. Somehow if I do it makes it more real. And I don't want it to be. So I quietly sit back and write this blog and share it, because I know some of you look out for updates. Know that I appreciate all of you. I am blessed to have you all in my life. So is he. He has so many wonderful friends.
His journey ain't over. He has to eat and drink properly again. This will take some time. For now a corner has been turned. Yay.
Fuck You Private Cancer
Well, what a surprise.
What a difference a day makes.
I had a rest day yesterday, I know! . . . . shoot me.
There he was, showered, smiling, welcoming and talking OMG. I could not believe what I was seeing. Or hearing. Today was the first time in a few long weeks I have been able to have a conversation with him. He has been drinking water too, and swallowing it, and not gagging. I just cant believe the difference. He is a new man. Well not really but you get me right?
He told me how he has been walking around the hospital every so often. He has even been outside dog spotting. We sat in the cafe for a while and he tried a small coke, of all things not healthy, but I didn't care. I just kept staring at him. I was feeling happiness I haven't felt for quite some time.
So we have a plan. Well he has. His nasogastric tube needs replacing as the input valve is cracked, because someone did it up too tight . . . soooo he thinks because he is starting to swallow water successfully he may be able to go back to the drinks the dietician gave him before the tube went in. Maybe. I am sceptical, however if the tube comes out tomorrow and he comes home and tries the drinks, if after 24 hours he cant manage then I will drag him back in to have another tube put it. Sounds reasonable yeah?
I am still in shock. He looks so much better today. Even his colour has returned to normal. He has a funny looking moustache and a beard which is only on his upper cheeks. His hair didn't all fall out from the chemo, just in some patches, like his whole chin and the spot where his CPAP strap goes behind his head. I kinda like it. He's got that salty scruffy sailor that's been at sea for a while look.
I got to really hug him today too. I have missed that. He gives good hugs. And I linked arms with him while we walked downstairs. I've missed walking with him. Funny what you realise you like until you don't have it for a while. I was squishing his bicep. It felt nice.
too much? sorry. not sorry.
On the home front, the house has been seriously neglected throughout this PC journey. I thought while he was in hospital I would get really motivated and do all of the things that I didn't do when we first moved in. HA. Nup. Nuthin. Zero. My mental state is at the point where I don't give a fuck about anything other than his health. Sad because I really wanted to get a few things in order before he came home so that he doesn't have to stress. He is a huge stress head.
I'm not. I learnt years ago how not to, and why stress is a choice . . . . but that's a topic for another blog.
So I have employed a cleaner for a day. Tomorrow actually. She will do a spring clean for us. I will feel great when I come home. He will think I've kept the house in order (unless he reads this). Hopefully it will give me a boost, a pick-me-up, a shot of adrenaline, or something to keep me going, as I suspect I will be doing the hovering dance over him for the next few days and weeks.
Thanks you all for your messages of love, prayers, hugs and wisdom.
You might notice that I don't reply to most comments about my man on social media. It doesn't mean I don't care or am not thankful. It's a strange one. Somehow if I do it makes it more real. And I don't want it to be. So I quietly sit back and write this blog and share it, because I know some of you look out for updates. Know that I appreciate all of you. I am blessed to have you all in my life. So is he. He has so many wonderful friends.
His journey ain't over. He has to eat and drink properly again. This will take some time. For now a corner has been turned. Yay.
Fuck You Private Cancer
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