Oo ow agony pain

OK - this is getting past a sodding joke.  I've had a week and a bit off chemo during which I have become less dopey, more alert, slightly more intelligent and as deaf as ever.  The one thing that hasn't improved is the pain in my legs  (and my typing but that's two things).  I reffed three under-12 soccer games yesterday and couldn't keep up with the kids.  Fortunately they didn't run that much so I was able to move around "tactically" - of course I can judge that offside from the halfway line (just like most of the parents do).  And by the third game I had arrived at my braindead place where I can't remember which team is playing which way which is made worse when they decide to pass backwards, making me think that their own backs are offside.  Still, I got yelled at only once by a coach so that's not too bad.  In my own defence, it was a minor foul for which I was going to award a free kick but had to wait to see if the non-offending team gained an advantage first (they didn't).  But by the time they'd lost possession, the coach was lecturing me from the sideline and I was buggered if I was going to give him the impression that his little tantrum was affecting my judgement.  So I let the game carry on.  So there.
I restart chemo on Tuesday and once again my poor computer science class is without me - I haven't got a clue what I can get them to do as a third of the class wasn't there last week because of a school camp.  So I can hardly get them to do a test on what the remainder of the class did while they were away.  Just might let them dismantle a bloody great ancient server I have in my room and see if they can turn one of the hard drives into a back-up drive for their laptops.  Glad I thought of that.  I hope nobody ruptures themselves - that server is no lightweight - and that my rickety furniture survives.
October has some treats in store for me including an appointment with my main guy in Asheville and another trip to Wake Forest to see if I am transplant material - I don't overly relish that as, while it involves a weekish off work not quite in a plastic bubble, I suspect there's not a great deal of entertainment to be had in Wake Forest Hospital.  I bet I will be craving something really repugnant to eat once I get out, too.  Somewhere in there I will either have someone drill a core sample out of my hip with a Black & Decker or will need to collect all my urine for 24 hours (I managed exactly 64 ounces last time which was quite impressive as that's exactly as much as the collection bottle holds) or both.  Nice drive to Wake Forest, though, and I don't need to be there until 11 a.m. so we (Susan very kindly drives me - jeez but she's a nice person) can travel at a sane hour.  Pity Sam has to go to school as he could do with the driving hours for his driver's permit.
I now need to tend the barbecue, mostly because the evil bopped-up version of Danny Boy (a song I hate in all guises) has just come on the radio.  Could be worse - could be Bob Dylan.