drowning in tissues

Jeremy bought me these flowers, because they are some of my favourites. They are to cheer me up (no pun intended) - I have a bad cold this week, and I'm even staying home from classes today. It's just progressed from the "runny nose, and feeling tired" stage to the "runny nose, scratchy throat, cough, headache, and exhausted" stage.

We are going on holiday tomorrow for a few days, and we are both looking forward to recuperating. Some people go to the south of France, but we go to the Manawatu!

I realize you've lived in France, but that doesn't mean you know EVERYTHING!

A favourite poem:

Lines For The Fortune Cookies

I think you're wonderful and so does everyone else.
Just as Jackie Kennedy has a baby boy, so will you--even bigger.
You will meet a tall beautiful blonde stranger, and you will not say hello.
You will take a long trip and you will be very happy, though alone.
You will marry the first person who tells you your eyes are like scrambled eggs.
In the beginning there was YOU--there will always be YOU, I guess.
You will write a great play and it will run for three performances.
Please phone The Village Voice immediately: they want to interview you.
Roger L. Stevens and Kermit Bloomgarden have their eyes on you.
Relax a little; one of your most celebrated nervous tics will be your undoing.
Your first volume of poetry will be published as soon as you finish it.
You may be a hit uptown, but downtown you're legendary!
Your walk has a musical quality which will bring you fame and fortune.
You will eat cake.
Who do you think you are, anyway? Jo Van Fleet?
You think your life is like Pirandello, but it's really like O'Neill.
A few dance lessons with James Waring and who knows?
Maybe something will happen.
That's not a run in your stocking, it's a hand on your leg.
I realize you've lived in France, but that doesn't mean you know EVERYTHING!
You should wear white more often--it becomes you.
The next person to speak to you will have a very intriquing proposal to make.
A lot of people in this room wish they were you.
Have you been to Mike Goldberg's show? Al Leslie's? Lee Krasner's?
At times, your disinterestedness may seem insincere, to strangers.
Now that the election's over, what are you going to do with yourself?
You are a prisoner in a croissant factory and you love it.
You eat meat. Why do you eat meat?
Beyond the horizon there is a vale of gloom.
You too could be Premier of France, if only ... if only...

- Frank O'Hara

aquajogging is the new pilates

It is extremely windy outside, and from the window next to me, I can see mist and rain rolling over the Orongrongos and the Miramar Peninsula. It is one of those afternoons I feel lucky to be inside next to the heater, which is probably my second most favourite thing in the world. I've got a huge pile of glorious editing to do (I love correcting spelling mistakes), and some tasty tamarillos for sustenance. All I need now is for someone to do the washing, make dinner, and give me a shoulder massage.

I've been on a bit of a low these past two days, but I'm convinced it's fatigue-related. You see, I was in hospital again over the weekend. On Sunday afternoon, I started getting bad abdominal pains in my 'upper left quadrant', and also back pain in the corresponding area. The Neupogen information that comes with each little syringe says that this pain can be a symptom of an enlarged spleen (which can then lead to rupturing, which is not good), and to see the Emergency Department straightaway. It wasn't the first time I've had this aching, but it was definitely more painful than any other time. I couldn't even bend down, or stretch to either side. Still being slightly unconfident of the nature of my newly-diagnosed disease, I prevaricated going to the hospital. Jeremy was equally unsure. So I rung Healthline (0800 611 116), and talked to a nurse, who recommended I get the pain checked at the hospital.

So we went off into the night, wrapped in jumpers and scarfs to ward off the chill. It was 9pm when we left home, and 3:30am when we got back. The time spent in the emergency department was mainly just waiting around, as there were quite a few seriously-ill patients. I had a blood test, a chest x-ray, and the doctor prodded my abdomen considerably. It turned out that my spleen seemed okay, but the sore throats/headaches/ulcers I have had over the last few days were worrying, given the CN. So blood was drawn to confirm my neutrophil count, except there was a lab strike on, so the blood test took two and a half hours to come back. Anyway, the level was okay, so I could go home, armed with 2 codeine pills and a prescription for more. If I had been very low in neutrophils, they would have admitted me overnight and put me on antibiotics, via IV drip. I went to my GP the next day (yesterday, even), and I've been booked in for an abdominal scan to check out the spleen.

While waiting in the hospital, Jeremy and I managed sleep for a grand total of 10 minutes sometime around 2:30am, only to be woken up by the radiologist coming to take me to get a chest x-ray. I was reasonably comfortable (if you can call the emergency department beds comfortable), but J had only two hard chairs and a collection of my jumpers to fashion temporary bedding. He ended up resting his head against my shoulder, legs across the chairs, almost sitting upright.

I was worried about the blood test results, because I didn't want to stay in the hospital overnight, but Jeremy distracted me very competently. We played the "what's a fruit or vegetable starting with the letter A, B, C, etc." game; he read me Finlay McDonald's article in the paper; we chatted; he patted my hand when I felt ill; he fetched old Woman's Weekly magazines for me to listlessly flick through; he even offered to make me a rubber glove rooster. He is a good hospital companion: uncomplaining and patient. As long as he has a book. Which makes him my kinda guy.

I have been thinking over the past few months, that I am very lucky to have Jeremy to support me: earlier, through the diagnosis period, and now, as we adjust to some new ways of living and as I'm getting used to the Neupogen. I would have found this process more difficult without him to be my chef, chauffeur, comedian, cheerleader, and constant companion. (that alliteration!)

Which reminds me: tonight is Medicine Night. I've done the injections myself for the past two weeks, which has been challenging. Because of the angle at which you have to hold the syringe, it's easier for me to inject into my upper thigh, rather than into my abdomen. Except I seem to get more aches injecting there, so perhaps I'll ask Jeremy to inject my abdomen this week, and then I'll monitor any difference in pain. Pretty scientific for an English graduate, yes?

I thought swimming might be a way to help alleviate the aches in my bones, so tomorrow I'll be down at the Regional Aquatic Centre to give it a try. J and I went to the pool on Saturday afternoon, and did some aquajogging - you may look and feel silly running through the water, but it's a good way to combine exercise and talking. Case in point: as we were making our way down the pool, we aquajogged past Jeremy's workmate, so we had a chat with him too, and jogged together in a line. Aquajogging is so the new Pilates.

hodgepodge

Some good books I've read lately:

Me Talk Pretty One Day, by David Sedaris (funniest book I have read in a long time, probably ever. The chapter "Jesus Shaves" had me nearly crying. With laughter, I mean.)

The Handmaid's Tale, by Margaret Atwood (I'd been meaning to read it for years, and finally did. A good book, although not for the lighthearted literature fan. I love how she plays with words, and doesn't hide it. I wonder if the movie version is any good?)

The Boy in Striped Pyjamas, by John Boyne (The ending is very upsetting, but the book is well-written, and especially recommended by me for you. It's marketed as a young adult novel, but I think it is pretty heavy going for a young teen. Definitely readable for adults too.)

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Have you all voted for the NZ Book Month Six Pack book? You can go here, http://competition.nzbookmonth.co.nz/stories.aspx, and make your choice. I am co-editing this book, hence the promotion.)

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Here is your daily intake of cute animal photos. Jeremy took these on site a few months ago, and I found them when I was clearing out my inbox.)

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Lastly - Jeremy was away on a trip last week, so I had to inject my medication myself for the first time. It's pretty weird to stick a needle into yourself. But I did it, after disassociating what I was seeing from what I was feeling. It seemed to work. And I rewarded myself with icecream.

Now that I know I can do it, I feel more confident about going out on Tuesday nights; I can take all the paraphernalia into the bathroom and inject myself, without causing a fuss. Except I start getting sore and tired about an hour after the injection, so that might curtail the socialising.

Apparently the bone pain was meant to be going away by now (I've having these injections for three months), but still no change. Sometimes it feels like the pain is getting worse. It's relative, I guess.