I’m still not feeling very well. I go with Mum to get my weekly blood tests. Just as I leave the clinic, my arm springs a leak and blood drips down my arm. I have to go back inside for a bigger piece of padding. That’s the second time this week I’ve bled more than I should – I wonder if the chemo is having an effect on my platelets. I guess the tests will show what’s up.

I pop a tramadol to deal with my physical discomfort and go out with Aunt L on a camera buying mission. Aunt L wants to upgrade her camera but is concerned about being pushed into buying something she doesn’t want. She has done her research and has some cameras she wants to look at. We go to Progear and chat to Sv, who most definitely tries to upsell us until he figures out that I actually know what I’m talking about. The sales pitch level comes down a notch and we talk gear. Aunt L gets to hold and play with a couple of camera bodies and settles on a Canon R10. They unfortunately don’t have any in stock so we go to PB Tech and nab their last one at better price. I also had the opportunity to talk trade ins with Sv so will be looking to consolidate my own gear in the near future. I still have more gear than I actually need so am thinking to just get one great birding lens, one wide angle lens, and sell everything else. It’s a radical move but I think change is good. Anything to get me out shooting more.

At home I get a call from a nurse at the Harbour Cancer Clinic. My blood test results don’t in fact show what we need as for some reason I’ve done the wrong tests so she asks me to do another, more detailed set of tests on Saturday morning. They need to know what’s happening with my liver before they can assess and possibly chart chemo for Monday. No problem, there’s a clinic in Glenfield open on Saturdays. 

I chill for the remainder of the day. My stomach hurts and my back aches and I feel queasy. I’ve lost my appetite and despite drinking loads of water I’m feeling constantly dehydrated. This sucks. This is the first time I’ve really felt unwell that I can’t 100% put down to treatment side effects. I wonder how much of it is stress, how much is chemo, and how much is cancer. It’s impossible to tell. I use my armpit Betty ball as a gauge. It doesn’t seem to have grown so that’s a good thing, right? I hold on to that and try to imagine the lesions in other parts of my body getting smaller. Mind over matter? It can’t hurt to try.