It can all happen in a few seconds. The screech of tyres, the thump on the bumper, the stain of blood on the road; and there ends 6 years of an otherwise happy (and largely overfed) life.
Yes, my cat’s number was finally up a few days ago. His last few days weren’t the best of his life either, poor thing, having been transferred from the “cat hotel” place (I don’t know, a cattery?) for our trip to Stanmore straight to the vet, for his apparently overdue vaccinations. An experience I can relate to myself, so I can understand why he was reluctant to even come near the house for the last few days before he died. So, this blog post is dedicated to him, and his overly large stomach.
The rather melancholy mood of this post has just been added to by England losing the World Cup (that was so blatantly a try, stupid video referee). The only saving grace is that I’m in the comfort of my own living room to watch it. Since around Friday (the 12th) I’d been in the local hospital, my temperature spiking up and down and being given IV antibiotics. It wasn’t all that bad though, I managed to see some friends for the first time in what seems like ages, which was good; but kind of anticlimactic – it wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy seeing them, but I’d have so much preferred to have not been in a hospital bed. Maybe anticlimactic isn’t the word; maybe it’s more that I was expecting some big event, seeing people I hadn’t seen in such a long time. But it just seemed like there hadn’t been a time gap at all, which was weird, and not really what I expected. But anyway, they let me out today, and to celebrate I thought I’d sit down and write a blog entry. Ah, the life I lead.
Wow, reading through the above paragraph, I really don’t make sense at times. Anyway, although I’m at home for now, I’m off to Southampton again for (you guessed it) more chemo. This time it’s of a different kind (VAC instead of VIDE, for those interested). It’s the post-op version of the chemo, and because I was in the “good responders” group (i.e. over 90% of the tumour was killed by the VIDE crap) I get to have it. It’s supposed to be less toxic and have fewer side-effects, but only time will tell about that. The key difference is the “C” instead of the “I” – “C” stands for (spelling guesses coming up) cyclophosphamide; “I” for iphosphamide. The former is an older, less effective drug, but has fewer side effects than its newer cousin. One of the most important differences is that cyclophosphamide (the older drug I’ll be getting) doesn’t cross the blood-brain barrier, or so I’m told; whereas iphosphamide does. Now, when you consider that I have epilepsy, that could be quite an important fact.
Actually, reading the previous two paragraphs, there may well be many people (hah, many, I could probably count the people who read this on one hand) who’ve just skipped to a paragraph that looks like it’s going to make sense. This one looks more promising, so to those people, welcome back to the blog post. Anyway, I ought to go, Dad’s in a bit of a bad mood after England losing. Oh well, there’s always Lewis Hamilton tomorrow.