Yesterday, I decided it was high time for me to tidy my drawers, because I Housemate did his, and I felt like even more of a sloth than usual. I would like to confirm that I am lying in my bed as I type and I can confirm that
I am glad that I took the time and energy to do this. As I was doing the deed however, my emotions were mixed.
My drawers are a set of six, which sit to the lefthand side of my bed and house the things that do not need to be on show. Catch my drift? There is a jewellery drawer, a make up drawer, one and a half drawers of mementos, a draw of toiletries and other things one can purchase from a chemist and the remaining drawers are (were) drawers of crap. The whole clean up accounted for one dustbin bag full of crap.
As, I opened the third drawer down yesterday evening, I found something, or should I say, somethings, that I have not required for a long time and consequently forgotten were in existence despite them coming in a range of sizes and brands occupying the majority of the drawer. It then dawned on me, that I would not require them ever again, and as I thought about what not needing them ever again meant, a teeny tiny tear fell down my face. And then a few more followed.
In this strange remission world, especially in the one where I try and remain positive, I avoid thinking about the things that have changed since I was diagnosed and the things I have lost since I was diagnosed. Sometimes unfortunately, even when you are doing the most practical of things, they just creep up on you, at least they do on me anyway, and when that happens to me, all I can do is give myself a minute or five (ten).
I gave myself five minutes to think that I will never again be caught short when out and have to ask a female friend or worse, a female colleague,
an embarrassing question. I gave myself five minutes to remember what it was like for my body to act like clockwork every 29 days. I gave myself five minutes to curse the hot flushes. And I gave myself five minutes, because all of the above means that I cannot have babies.
I then cursed myeloma.
Once composed, I stared into the drawer some more before I scooped up the contents, which included two half full boxes of the same thing, and put them in my black bag. I then left my room and was told about some of the benefits of not having to stock up in Boots every month.
Other things in the drawers that also contributed to a wee bit of insomnia and yearning for a simpler time last night, included;
• Hair bobbles (I thought I had dispossessed of them all)
• 2 x paddle hair brushes containing long brown hairs, which I felt the need to finger
• Old photographs
On the plus side, I was reminded that myeloma has significantly increased the quality my remaining toiletries and thus, I am unlikely to need to purchase any moisturiser any time soon (shower gel and bubble bath on the other hand…).