Exciting developments in one of the aspects of life that is most important to me: Sleep.
Last night I slept right through until an acceptable hour for the first time since I went into hospital. No waking up every two hours to go to the toilet because of the steroids; no being woken up by a nurse wanting to check my blood pressure; and no confused patients loudly shouting for a nurse at 6am. Just 8 hours of peaceful, uninterrupted kip. Finally.
After this strong start to the day I was full of motivation and decided to set about making a dent in my to-do list. However my eyesight had other ideas and was playing up from the get go which meant I couldn't focus on very much at all. I have no idea how people that need glasses manage to shave properly, I was wondering about the house with facial hair that can only be described as tramp-esque for part of the morning before I realised and was able to rectify the situation. On the subject of facial hair, I spent part of the morning contemplating how much easier life would be if I could grow a beard that befits my age as opposed to the 60% coverage I get currently. The answer: Much.
After an arms and core session (which just served to depress me due to my current abdominal issues) I went to the opticians to get a checkover and assess whether there are any signs of the tumour that should have been picked up at one of my two recent eye tests in Specsavers. Apparently the only sign that something was amiss, other than the headaches, is the fact that my optic nerves are slightly swollen. Maybe that can explain my double vision over the last few weeks.
While at the optician I had a call from an unknown number, which turned out to be someone from The Royal Marsden in London. At my mother's insistence I had asked Velindre about the benefits of a second opinion, and they had forwarded my details on. I was expecting this to just involve someone else having a look at my test results, but the doctor wants me to go in to London next week for a meeting. One thing I wasn't expecting was for him to end the call asking if I trained in Maesteg and if I knew Kerry (my judo coach). I'm starting to wonder if there's anyone that he doesn't know!
The evening took a turn for the worse when I made the decision to step on the weighing scale, and hit 74.7kg. I'd be ecstatic with this under normal conditions but as I've repeatedly mentioned, the lack of abs at the moment is making it very hard for me to be positive about all the weight gain. On that note, if one more person mentions how fat my face is looking I won't be held responsible for my actions. It'll be like a slo-mo scene from 300 as I impale them on a pointy stick. You have been warned!
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