As if life doesn’t become hard enough with the effects of chemo it also makes functioning difficult, as though you are operating in a fog. I have since found out this is how pregnant women feel but having never been in that condition I didn’t know.
When you are undergoing chemo and have the weight of the sentence you have been given weighing down on your mind it is difficult to find much to laugh about. The chemo fog put an end to that difficulty when it came to our sitting room furniture.
My mother had entered a nursing home ( now called Aged Care Residential Facility) and I was left with the task of packing up her belongings, moving some to her new abode , selling others, keeping some and storing others. When it came to her electric lift chair I suggested to Roger that we keep it for him. His hip was giving him so much gip that he struggled to get in and out of chairs. “It’s small and could fit beside mine.” I suggested.
He agreed but I could tell he had some reservations. We got it home and he says “the principle is good but I hate tapestry.”
The next day he tells me “I’ve brought a chair from down south.” He showed me on the internet. He hadn’t looked at it but bought it sight unseen and paid on paypal.
“How are we going to get it?”
“I’ll organise a removalist.”
After no response from the seller re the address we were to send the removalist to I rang her up to question why? She hadn’t as yet been notified of our payment. Unusual, I thought and went on to Roger’s computer to see what had happened. The woman had written her email address …… com cheers. Roger had asked paypal to pay her .comcheers. I couldn’t help but laugh and laughter being infectious soon we were both doubled over in mirth. We quickly rectified the mistake and a couple of days later the chair arrived.
It looked nice. I sat and suddenly my legs were above my head as it tried to hurl me into a back summersault pike. Roger declared he could repair it and he did try. It is still sitting in our loungeroom as the urgency wore off. I arrived home a day or two later to be told I’ve brought two recliner chairs. “What do we want two chairs for?” The seller wanted them both to go together. I could understand this. Green velour wouldn’t have too many takers. This time he HAD gone and looked at them and decided they were perfect for the job and paid on the spot. ‘You can swap your chair for one,” he told me.
“But I don’t want to. I love my chair.”
“We’ll sell it then.” At least this time they were located in our town and again he said he would organise a removalist to get them. Before we could organise a removalist he purchased yet another electric lift chair. Brown this time. “The removalist can pick it up at the same time,” Roger said.
I think I may have even stamped my foot at this point. “No more. Don’t buy one more chair.”
“It’s the chemo fog” he said.
“It’ll be more than chemo fog you’ve got if you look at Gumtree again.” The removalist picked the three of them up.
With now 5 electric or recliner armchairs plus the already large amount of furniture we had it looked like we were a living room shop. What do you do? You can’t be cranky. There is nothing for it but to laugh and let’s face it – Readers Digest has been telling us for years that laughter is the best medicine and by jove – they are right.