Step It Up

That last post was a bit of a brain-spew. Sorry. 

What may (or may not) be of more interest is what's going on cancer-wise.

I had five sessions of SABR radiotherapy in Dublin, which involved a LOT of podcast-listening while commuting for six hours each time. It was just after the referendum, so I had a fair amount of eighth-related stuff to listen to, as well as a very entertaining GP podcast from Australia, and the first series of Serial. 

The radiotherapy was easy; lying, breathing, holding, holding, holding, breathing normally. Repeating x4. 

The children got a few extra grandparent-treats, the patients' appointments were adjusted slightly, and no one was particularly put out by the experience (except maybe the car, which is used to a maximum of 60 miles per week, and was beginning to look at me sideways when I approached it at 6:30am, AGAIN). 

I don't appear to have any side effects from the treatment, though the word Fatigue has been used once or twice, to gain sympathy and a license to nap. 

I will wait and see if the two tiny lung lesions are now even tinier. It will be an awful waste of diesel if they're not. 

In the meanwhilst, I signed up for Bowel Cancer UK's clever fitness initiative for the month of June, where people are asked to do 30 minutes of exercise every day for 30 days, and get other people to donate money. That sounds pretty simple I thought, and I was sure that I could clock up half an hour of activity without even thinking about it. But it turns out I'm a little bit lazier than I thought, and thirty minutes is actually quite long. Though the fact that it's time-based rather than distance-based makes it the perfect goal for someone with a short-legged child, as our one mile walk to school and back often takes at least that long. And there is something about the forbearance that is required to stop and look at every ladybird and jump over all the cracks that makes it seem even more virtuous. I have been throwing in a bit of kayaking and dancing and cartwheeling too, just to mix it up. I also did the Irish Cancer Society Colour Dash with my eldest daughter. Who knew that being pelted with different coloured powder while running/walking around a 5k course after four hours sleep and with a bit of a hangover could be so much fun? Not so sure that inhaling all those colours is necessarily the right thing to do after a load of lung radiotherapy though - they told me to watch out for funny-coloured sputum but I'm not sure what they'll say when I tell them it's bluey-pinky-purple...

The hangover was a result of another Doctors' Disco, which had slightly less dancing and more stout-drinking than previously, but was a lovely opportunity to meet old friends and remember an extra special one. 

So the thirty days of #stepupfor30 are drawing to a close, and I will try to continue the good habit. You'd hear them saying it, all the fit types, that exercise really does make you feel wonderful, but I was never really listening. Blah blah blah. Turns out that the little smuggers are right though. 

I didn't have any great ambitions for the sponsorship, other than reaching the £100 target that was needed to get a free tee-shirt (and Doug pretty much sorted that out straight away), but if you felt like throwing a tenner in their direction you can donate here. Please don't give any more than that, you know I will be back looking for something else off ye all very soon...