Doctor’s orders

Thursday will be the last radiation session, marking the end of cancer-zapping procedures, but not the end of treatment. After that we’re into prevention. Because mine was an oestrogen-fed cancer, to stop it returning I must take hormone tablets for up to five years. Some people don’t like this medication because it brings on an early menopause. At my age I’m not too bothered as that’s where I’m heading anyway.

All these months of treatment have left me knackered, so I’m not going back into work till February – although still working a few hours from home. I will use the time to build my strength up. My back, where they took the muscle out, is weakened and I get intermittent backache. The physio says I should swim in a ‘posh pool’ (where the water is warmer). So today we’ve been out looking at private gyms.

I used to frequent an old municipal pool in town, until last April when Nottingham City Council in their wisdom closed it. It had a small but loyal clientele. Often there would be only a handful of people in the water. That’s why I liked it – and probably why they closed it. In this age of austerity I doubt whether the promised all-singing, all-dancing replacement will ever materialise.

The physio also says I must not sit for more than half an hour, but should get up and walk around. What a perfect excuse for getting out of meetings!

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