Passing of time
I suffered several headaches over the last 4 days in Leeds, most likely stress related. My complexion is poor, and the skin sore and red where the lymphedema tape takes it's abrasive toll on my hand. Clearly I'm run down.
I'm usually so restless after 3 days pinned to a desk in London that I can't wait to throw myself into activity and projects when I get back home to Leeds. This doesn't really give me any down time, as even when I'm physically resting in Leeds I'm working out what is next on my 'to do' list and planning my approach.
My Leeds activities over the past 4 days included: teleworking on Friday, two trips to the DIY store, a supermarket shop, buying a father's day gift, an afternoon and two evenings at my dad's, a morning trying to sleep off a headache, putting up hooks, painting a door, painting skirting boards, removing paint from a light switch and two sockets, putting up a new light fitting, cutting a new window board, removing two dead rosemary bushes from the garden, pruning shrubs, weeding, cutting the grass, strimming, three laundry loads, a trip to the lymphedema clinic, cleaning two windows, and a trip to the tip.
Quite a list. I'm already weighing up what my next priorities are for when I return to Leeds. I'd like to paint a ceiling, gloss another door and skirting board, and put up another light fitting. I want to install a conduit to encase some central heating pipes and then plaster over them. I have some shrubs that need planting in the garden, and I'd like to transplant some bulbs from tubs into the borders.
But first I must complete three days of work in the office, twiddling my thumbs during the evenings at my London digs. I know the job serves its purpose - providing me with an income, healthcare, and an opportunity to socialise. I can't help but feel frustrated by the passing of time with little opportunity to do anything personally important.
I recall a very similar feeling from 9 years ago when I was last recovering from cancer. My goal back then was to progress my career, and I worked long intense hours trying to improve processes, and gain recognition and promotion. Ultimately, while I did my best, the achievement I craved was reliant on factors I had no control over and my efforts came to naught. I had a sense of time hurrying by, and a fear that my own time was limited.
This time, recovering from cancer, my goals are entirely within my own sphere of influence, though constrained by the availability of cash. I bought an old, somewhat dilapidated house, and I'm doing it up. There are endless mini-projects to this, which fall into three main categories:
Get a move on
Get a man in
Get the money together
Small stuff that I can do myself reasonably cheaply fall in the first category: decorating; gardening; minor DIY.
The second category consists of still quite small jobs but which require strength or a skill set I don't possess: plumbing, plastering, tiling.
The third category is longer term, requiring more major expenditure: replacing the roof, reworking the kitchen, converting the loft.
It is all progressing at an excruciating snail's pace, but each completed job comes with its own reward of satisfaction, and gives me something to dwell on that isn't health related.
I know it wouldn't be something most people would put on their '100 things to do before I die' list, but it is the only thing on mine.
I'm usually so restless after 3 days pinned to a desk in London that I can't wait to throw myself into activity and projects when I get back home to Leeds. This doesn't really give me any down time, as even when I'm physically resting in Leeds I'm working out what is next on my 'to do' list and planning my approach.
My Leeds activities over the past 4 days included: teleworking on Friday, two trips to the DIY store, a supermarket shop, buying a father's day gift, an afternoon and two evenings at my dad's, a morning trying to sleep off a headache, putting up hooks, painting a door, painting skirting boards, removing paint from a light switch and two sockets, putting up a new light fitting, cutting a new window board, removing two dead rosemary bushes from the garden, pruning shrubs, weeding, cutting the grass, strimming, three laundry loads, a trip to the lymphedema clinic, cleaning two windows, and a trip to the tip.
Quite a list. I'm already weighing up what my next priorities are for when I return to Leeds. I'd like to paint a ceiling, gloss another door and skirting board, and put up another light fitting. I want to install a conduit to encase some central heating pipes and then plaster over them. I have some shrubs that need planting in the garden, and I'd like to transplant some bulbs from tubs into the borders.
But first I must complete three days of work in the office, twiddling my thumbs during the evenings at my London digs. I know the job serves its purpose - providing me with an income, healthcare, and an opportunity to socialise. I can't help but feel frustrated by the passing of time with little opportunity to do anything personally important.
I recall a very similar feeling from 9 years ago when I was last recovering from cancer. My goal back then was to progress my career, and I worked long intense hours trying to improve processes, and gain recognition and promotion. Ultimately, while I did my best, the achievement I craved was reliant on factors I had no control over and my efforts came to naught. I had a sense of time hurrying by, and a fear that my own time was limited.
This time, recovering from cancer, my goals are entirely within my own sphere of influence, though constrained by the availability of cash. I bought an old, somewhat dilapidated house, and I'm doing it up. There are endless mini-projects to this, which fall into three main categories:
Get a move on
Get a man in
Get the money together
Small stuff that I can do myself reasonably cheaply fall in the first category: decorating; gardening; minor DIY.
The second category consists of still quite small jobs but which require strength or a skill set I don't possess: plumbing, plastering, tiling.
The third category is longer term, requiring more major expenditure: replacing the roof, reworking the kitchen, converting the loft.
It is all progressing at an excruciating snail's pace, but each completed job comes with its own reward of satisfaction, and gives me something to dwell on that isn't health related.
I know it wouldn't be something most people would put on their '100 things to do before I die' list, but it is the only thing on mine.
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