A new week has started. We’re in the middle of a five-day weekend, and both of us are spending it rather lazily.
Fortunately, Yuki was able to receive his chemotherapy last Friday, even though it had been scheduled to be skipped.
Based on his previous treatments, he might develop a fever around this time, but so far he hasn’t.
The current chemotherapy seems to be working and holding the progression back, and the doctors are pleased. However, we have mixed feelings and can’t simply feel happy about it. It feels as if this might be the last treatment that can prolong his life, which is what the doctors seem to be implying.
Still, yesterday he participated in a jazz session at a jazz café. He’s trying to enjoy every moment. That said, depending on how he feels in the morning, we never know if he’ll be able to go out—so we’re just taking it easy.
Meanwhile, I find myself becoming increasingly anxious about living alone someday. Our children live far away, so I can’t really rely on them to come quickly in an emergency. It feels too early—both in terms of age and finances—to move into a care home.
My mother-in-law decided on her own to move into one at the age of 80.
When I start thinking about these things, my anxiety swells up and sometimes leaves me unable to get out of bed. That was me yesterday.
Still, somehow, life goes on.
