I woke up this morning and realised despite two diaries and a calendar I had completely forgotten I was supposed to go to my friend's for a walk. I can only assume she thought since I had cancer now she could no longer beat me for letting our plans slide.
As it happens I felt so rough I was in bed with Megamind (on the telly, I'm not having an illicit affair with a blue alien) by 8pm. Being ill is knackering so I think getting through work is enough of an achievement. My asthma has kicked off as per so I'm walking around doing a very impressive impression of a steam train - sexy right?
The disturbed sleep I'm sure doesn't help. Last night I dreamt I was at a Christmas fair with my manager who was now in a wheel chair, my best friend was trying to buy over priced jewellery because the salesman said he'd give her a cloth, she had an argument with me (our first ever) because I told her the guy she bought with her had to get back to work and then she had a hissy and suddenly she was now gay and her girlfriend was a girl I didn’t like at school and I was chasing her through a muddy field in heels but then we were in a nightclub and I was explaining what had happened to a woman I worked with when I was 19.
I'm still inpatiently waiting for my radiology appointment to come through but to be fair it has only been a week. I guess I was hoping because he'd referred me before he saw me that within a couple of days I'd hear from John, John, Joan or whoever it is that is going to fry my naughty cells into oblivion. I think until they're gone and I'm certain we're cancer free for a bit I'll not relax fully. I'm still eyeballing my suspected cancer mound under a frecke. It's definitely not right. Can I not just have it all zapped too? Or they can cut it out. Do what you like as long as I don't have to keep it.
More remembering issues - I finally remembered to call my mum back yesterday. She was a bit less dramatic but insisted on refusing to say cancer. She said 'your nan has told uncle Mark and aunty Tamsin about, you know....about you.' This made me cross but instead I politely said it wasn't a shameful family secret! Dear me, she's a nurse for goodness sakes! Anyone would think my nan had told my family I'd gone out and kidnapped 50 kittens!
When I did finally remember to go to CBT on Monday (funnily enough we've made no progress on my not so irrational feelings about death) I was told I'm being referred for 'situational adjustment counselling' which apparently is a ridiculous way of saying they're going to try and make me talk about my cancer feelings. I'm not good with feelings, I'm much more comfortable with a defensive sarcasm stream but this won't resolve my adjustment to the new situation apparently. I see the value in counselling, I just don't like it. Maybe I could just sit back to back with them? If I don't have to look at the person hearing my scaredy cat thoughts maybe it'll be easier. It's worked wonders here. I just pop it all out and leave it here where it belongs, well and truly out of my head.
Anyway aside from grotty run of the mill illnesses everything is going pretty well. I'm a shiny happy (if a little coughy) ginger so I think that's enough to hope for. Now let me remember I have another appointment this afternoon and I might even call Wednesday a success!
