*Time off training
I had a bad cold and mild fever this last week ( I thought I had covid but apparently not) so erred on the cautious side and had a fortnight off running and weights. I think I’d probably not been getting enough rest after introducing weights on top of the running which perhaps made me more prone to getting sick. That and a bit of travelling and not enough sleep.
In other news I saw my consultant and got the verdict back on the latest MRI and CT scan: ‘no new disease’, all good. What a relief! Hurrah hurrah hurrah. Thank you to the universe, I’m a lucky chap (for many reasons, not just this). This really put a spring in my step and was a relief in a way that made me realise I didn’t fully appreciate how it had been bothering me.
One of the upshots of being on this kind of surveillance pathway (scans every 3 months) is that it can encourage speculating on possible negative scenarios in a way that you would (or I wouldn’t) never normally do. My conscious approach to this is: ‘Screw that. I’m a strong healthy mofo, I’m surviving’, which I think is the best approach to take. And indeed is true to how I feel, but occasionally the Bad Thoughts can wheedle in.
These Bad Thoughts aren’t necessarily a problem in and of themselves, and are worth sitting with (I genuinely believe actively exploring one’s own mortality pays massive dividends:‘Memento More’ is a good choice for a tattoo IMHO), but dwelling on them and letting them get you down, less so. One good response, to paraphrase Nicola: is to greet any such passing thoughts with: a breezy ‘ well, TBH it’s been a total blast so far, we’ve been blessed’ and try and continue having a great time for as long as one can.
And so. After our sitting-with-death detour, back to the Mile End Road and the Whitechapel Hospital. The bit between having the scans, and getting the results (about 3 weeks) can be a bit nervous making, and being in the waiting room immediately prior definitely feels like the cards are being dealt with you and there’s one or two you REALLY don’t want in your hand.”Let’s see what you could have won!”
Anyway, all good, and the troublesome abscess has further decreased in size. It was good to see Maneesh, and we had a minor detour into the linguistics of ‘regressed’, which is what the abscess had done. I pointed out this could be interpreted as ‘got worse’, whereas he was clear that obviously it could only mean it had ‘got smaller’. We were both right. Thankfully, the definition which was most appropriate, was his.