I misled you with my last post. Pleased though I am to have discovered Pilates, my body is in no way 'conditioned', my muscles neither 'long' nor 'lean' and my pelvic alignment a long way short of admirable.
The truth is, I am given to exaggeration.
I have just returned from the allotments in a pitiful manner; shuffling the couple of hundred yards up Cambridge Road as though aged, frail and infirm. My feet are sore and my knees, both knees, operate like machinery lacking lubrication and thereby, internally expanding through the effects of friction and liable at any moment to seize up completely.
Today is day 28 of my 42 day cycle; the last day of chemo. I'm hoping for a quick recovery as I enter the drug-free two weeks. The day after tomorrow, Saturday, I return to my 'day job' - taking visitors on Heritage Open Day tours around the Spring Hill College building; part of Moseley School where I taught until three short years ago. I won't be much use to anyone as a tour guide with severe 'sore feet syndrome' and dodgy knees.
And next week I have a hot date with a CT scanner. A further snapshot of the soft tissue in my lungs will tell some anonymous radiographer whether those nodules in my lungs are shrinking, stable or growing. Then he or she will tell an oncologist, a flesh and blood oncologist with a computer screen to help him/her illustrate the conclusion, good, neutral or bad, with an impassive, been-here-before demeanour.
We will hang on their every word.
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