Doing the calendar shuffle
Had a few scheduling problems this week. I am supposed to be getting chemo intravenously every Thursday & Friday, 2 weeks on and 2 weeks off. At the same time, I take a big dose of Revlemid every day for 3 weeks then have a week off and take a small dose of steroids every other Monday. (I'm hoping the steroids won't give me sleepless nights). As you can imagine, it took a few goes to get the teeth of those cogs meshed but I think we are now in business. Oddly enough, my steroids (of which I take 5 at a time) had 33 pills in the pot. Anyone want to buy 3 steroid pills (please note - that is a joke: I've already given them to Bill Nighey).
Upshot of this was that I arrived at Cancer Care on Thursday for my infusion only to be told that my appointment is next week. Not being prepared to waste a nice day, I shot home, stuck some air in my bike's tyres and took off to Biltmore, well aware that I am not as fit as I have been and with there being no way I was going to bike up to the house from the lake. So I rode on the flat, over tarmac and gravel roads, to Antler Village where I had little choice but to turn round and go back. Back at the lake I still had plenty of puff left so time to go just as far as base camp 1 on the way up to the house. Didn't quite make it there before deciding it was too bloody far so I sat down under a tree and watched the grass grow. And then rode on to base camp 1. Definitely time to go back down again. Maybe walk up to base camp 2. And, of course, once you're there, you might as well finish the job. Oddly enough, the ride from base camp 2 to the house is the easiest bit of the lot - a gentle rise of well-packed gravel or, if you want a softer ride, short grass. So there I was at the house. At this point I realised that I hadn't checked the bike's brakes before I left home and, of course, I had no tools with me. So I started off down very gingerly, bringing the bike to complete halt several times on the gentle slope to make sure the precipitate bit would be no problem. There's a really steep shortcut that used to be an official path but which I think may have claimed too many victims as it is now overgrown. I've walked it a couple of times this year but as it's about 45 degrees in places, I decided on the long way round. Squeezing and releasing the brakes the whole way, I made it past the treacherous part and was just entering the long wide straight slope at the bottom when a fierce field gremlin leapt out from nowhere and stuck his spear in my front wheel. Fortunately the ground broke my fall and looking down I saw that my left leg was through the frame of the bike and the handlebars had twisted 90 degrees, successfully fracturing my shin.
Further investigation revealed that I am a big fat hypochondriac who had merely had all the skin removed from his left shin by the brake cables. I was able to extricate myself and get back on board with nothing more than an aching left wrist (which I think is bruised as it is getting better by the day.) If I go biking at Biltmore next week, which I probably will, I promise not to ride down from the house. I wonder how the shuttle bus drivers would feel about me bumming a ride for me and my bike? Maybe I'll do the lakeside trail twice.
In other medical news, Susan & I went to World Market last week, the only source of Hayward's piccalilli in North Carolina. It was 30% off which made it merely outrageously expensive. Taking this as a sign that they are probably going to stop stocking it, I bought their entire stock. It is now a race to see if I can eat it all before the chemo and steroids once again make sour food taste like paint. So far so good.
Upshot of this was that I arrived at Cancer Care on Thursday for my infusion only to be told that my appointment is next week. Not being prepared to waste a nice day, I shot home, stuck some air in my bike's tyres and took off to Biltmore, well aware that I am not as fit as I have been and with there being no way I was going to bike up to the house from the lake. So I rode on the flat, over tarmac and gravel roads, to Antler Village where I had little choice but to turn round and go back. Back at the lake I still had plenty of puff left so time to go just as far as base camp 1 on the way up to the house. Didn't quite make it there before deciding it was too bloody far so I sat down under a tree and watched the grass grow. And then rode on to base camp 1. Definitely time to go back down again. Maybe walk up to base camp 2. And, of course, once you're there, you might as well finish the job. Oddly enough, the ride from base camp 2 to the house is the easiest bit of the lot - a gentle rise of well-packed gravel or, if you want a softer ride, short grass. So there I was at the house. At this point I realised that I hadn't checked the bike's brakes before I left home and, of course, I had no tools with me. So I started off down very gingerly, bringing the bike to complete halt several times on the gentle slope to make sure the precipitate bit would be no problem. There's a really steep shortcut that used to be an official path but which I think may have claimed too many victims as it is now overgrown. I've walked it a couple of times this year but as it's about 45 degrees in places, I decided on the long way round. Squeezing and releasing the brakes the whole way, I made it past the treacherous part and was just entering the long wide straight slope at the bottom when a fierce field gremlin leapt out from nowhere and stuck his spear in my front wheel. Fortunately the ground broke my fall and looking down I saw that my left leg was through the frame of the bike and the handlebars had twisted 90 degrees, successfully fracturing my shin.
Further investigation revealed that I am a big fat hypochondriac who had merely had all the skin removed from his left shin by the brake cables. I was able to extricate myself and get back on board with nothing more than an aching left wrist (which I think is bruised as it is getting better by the day.) If I go biking at Biltmore next week, which I probably will, I promise not to ride down from the house. I wonder how the shuttle bus drivers would feel about me bumming a ride for me and my bike? Maybe I'll do the lakeside trail twice.
In other medical news, Susan & I went to World Market last week, the only source of Hayward's piccalilli in North Carolina. It was 30% off which made it merely outrageously expensive. Taking this as a sign that they are probably going to stop stocking it, I bought their entire stock. It is now a race to see if I can eat it all before the chemo and steroids once again make sour food taste like paint. So far so good.
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