When this whole adventure started, I learnt pretty early on that when the professionals offer drugs, you take them - they've dealt with many patients and know what is best. And while I was at home, I also learnt that trying to be a hero was a silly idea - taking the drugs to alleviate the pain not only meant I was more comfortable, but it was also easier on those assisting with my care.
Over the last three years, my life has pretty much got back to normal and the only drugs I take now are to compensate for the long-term affects of the radiotherapy on my system. They are part of my daily routine and by in large I don't give them another thought. Only last weekend, I did give it thought and suffered as a result.
You see, one of the drugs I take is to deal with the acid reflux I now suffer. In my "wisdom" I decided that I'd see whether my system really still needed these pills, so I decided not to take the pill on Saturday morning. In all honesty, during that day I didn't really notice any difference, so I pushed the boat out and gave the Sunday pill a miss as well.
By then end of the day, I was starting to suffer. Obviously there had been enough residual benefit in my system to tide me over until Sunday morning, but come late afternoon I was feeling decidedly queasy and contemplating just popping a pill.
But then the next dilemma kicked in - if I take one now, can I resume the routing again in the morning? How often am I allowed to take them before it is an effective overdose? I know the doctor told me, but I've been diligently taking them each morning for so long now that I couldn't remember. Caution finally overtook bravado and I waited until Monday to resume the pill-popping.
Lesson learned! This is where I struggle trying to justify why I was so stupid in the first place. I've always followed the medical advice throughout this whole journey, I always do as I'm told for general ailments, so why did I decide I knew better all of a sudden?
Regular readers of this blog will know how I've gone on about the new normal and how I don't want to fall back into old habits. Yet here I am seemingly ignoring all of that. Maybe it's also because as the 3rd anniversary of treatment finishing is fast approaching that I'm feeling a bit cocky about the long term prognosis. Honestly I don't know why I did it (it seemed like a good idea at the time), but I do know this simple little exercise in futility and discomfort has certainly hammered home the truth.
That truth is things will never be the way they were and all I can hope is to minimise the impact on my daily life. Given the alternatives, that doesn't seem too high a price to pay. Every so often I receive one of these little reminders and in total honesty I'm thankful for them because I don't want to forget what I've been through as doing so devalues the efforts of everyone who helped me win the fight. It also helps to remind me of the second chance I've been lucky enough to have, while so many have been less fortunate.
Will I ever do something silly like this again? Guarantee I do. Will I come to the same conclusion as I did over the weekend - you can bet on it.
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