Things seem calmer in camp ginger on the relationship front. Since I promised to try not to be so snappy and he promised to stop making 'jokes' about me being tired and useless everything seems better. Obviously talking is the key to this grown up lark.
Loki (the kitten) went back to the vets today. He's had a bit of a rubbish start to his short life, bless him. He had an eye infection and a cold, then he had a swollen tummy and the vet has him on weekly appointments because he's absolutely tiny for his age. He's got cat flu so he'll carry it for life, not unlike me with the wonders of lymphoma, and so he's bound to get ill from time to time. He's been on antibiotics for about 3 weeks now and whilst he was fooled initially by the drugged lick-e-lix (that stuff is literally like crack to cats), he soon twigged and now it's a two person job with a syringe. I'm surprised he hasn't demanded to leave home already to be honest. He's still super cute though. Look at their pretty faces!
I've got a bit of a worry because I noticed today that the area I'd had RT in had been very flat and lovely after treatment finished and is now suspiciously bumpy again. It's nothing like it was before in terms of size but then again, treatment only finished 4 weeks ago so it wouldn't have had time to grow that big. I waved my arm in the face of Hairy (really helpful in my quest not to panic him I'm sure) and he had a good feel. He agrees it's bumpy but suggested maybe my skin had shrunk over the scar tissue. Let's hope so anyway, else I can only assume that'll be me going back for more treatment far more quickly than I had bargained for.
When I realised, there was a real pang of tangible panic. It wasn't as raw as it was when I first found out but it was no less concerning. Unfortunately, I realised I knew far more about the music I wanted played at my funeral than my wedding, but in all fairness I've known a funeral was going to be a dead cert for far longer than a wedding....so maybe that makes it OK? Maybe. I'm trying to remain very calm though and remind myself that whilst it might be cancer or it might be scar tissue, either way they keep telling me it's a good cancer to have and it's not likely to kill me so I guess the downside is possibly going through some inconvenience with more cancer treatment in the future.
On the other hand, you could ignore it and eventually I guess it would get you but frankly if you left any medical condition then it would have the potential to do that. It's only so scary because they called it cancer. I'm still, even all these months down the line, at a loss as to whether I am supposed to be unphased by the fact I've got cancer that they can't cure and whether to believe them when they tell me it's OK even though it will probably periodically grow back like I'm housing my own personal limpet. I'm still scared about it but it's been a while and the people who love you don't want to hear that you're still worried sometimes or that you think it's coming back, they just want the success story that you're going to be fine and I don't think I'll achieve anything by dwelling over the worry for too long because it wouldn't fix it so instead I'm electing to at least try to give it a few more weeks before I bother medical professional with my lumpy bumpy arm syndrome again.
In the meantime I can always carry on planning this wedding, smothering the cats in affection and attempting to fill the time up when I'm not whinging about how tired I am doing something fun.
On the plus side, I think being a tad diseased has given me some perspective on what matters which is quite nice. I woke up at 4am this morning because Gabriel (big cat) had decided that the most sensible course of action was to sit outside my bedroom door and howl for absolutely no reason. I went to check the time and my mobile phone that had been fully charged was now off and wouldn't switch on. Turns out I've managed to blow up the battery...well done Ginge! Can you sense a pattern of destruction in my wake yet? Anyhoo, I think not that long ago I would have been horribly upset, I mean come on people how do I function unless I can arm myself with my magical tiny box that communicates with the rest of the world...you know your eyes fall out and your fingers seize up if you don't use one for half an hour right? Yeah, instead I just re-set my alarm on Hairy's phone and asked him to have a look at it when I remembered this morning. It's slightly inconvenient but in the grand scheme of things honestly does it matter? Of course not!
I'm struggling to convey this new found perspective to everyone to be fair. Some people are still intent on whinging at me about pointless rubbish in a way that I should care but I seem to have lost that functionality along with the 'speaks fluent English after 9am' setting which I'm sure was fully operational before RT! Anyhoo, I'm pretty content overall I think. Let's just cross everything that I'm not growing more tumours already because else whoever is head of cell growth in my body is getting a very sternly worded letter of complaint.
