I appear to be a master in all three at the moment.
The appointment with the haematologist was painfully brief after a horrendous 2 hour wait. I got to leave with the gift of a massive painful bruise where the phlebotomist stabbed me so they could peer at my blood again. It looks a little like a duckling so it has the added bonus of being vaguely cute as well as rather inconvenient.
When I did finally see his pleasant smiling self, he inspected the assortment of lumps and bumps before declaring that 'there's nothing to be done' and suggested it was best to see me in a few months when things had a chance to either grow, or hopefully not. The medication is leaving me nauseated at incredibly inopportune moments, like all the time, and has the added perk of ensuring fun is limited to anything that doesn't involve raising the heart rate, eating or indeed really doing much of anything. As such, I am still mainly on my backside filling my face with TV, books, friends and still far too much sleep.
The most embarrassing sleep related issue only occured yesterday evening. I spent the day with the lovely Teapot; he remains one of the few people in my life that haven't yet left me with a feeling akin to the rage of a tormented tiger in a zoo and so is a firm favourite to subject myself upon. Thankfully he doesn't seem to mind too much or else I may well have taken to exclusively conversing with my cats. Usual routine resumed (films, TV, bizarreness of the internet) with only a brief interlude for a woman with a slight word vomit afflication, whose first question upon hearing I had cancer was something along the lines of would I live, which is a little forward from a woman you've just met who up until then was emptying her face with a half rant about the joys of shabby campervans and heavy horses.
Off I trotted full of smiles and only slightly green to get the train home, except that I didn't quite make it back to mine for yet another early night. Hairy was across the road from the train station in one of the pubs with his father and some of the local lads, setting up for a gig. He asked if I'd pop in for one drink since I've not seen his dad since June, mainly because since his wife (and Hairy's mum) died, he's not terribly keen to discuss the world of cancer and that has dominated my life for the last 4 months so I'm a tad dull outside this subject. One drink dragged on for several hours and by about 10pm, gig in full swing and us right at the front I succumbed to much needed sleep. Hairy and his dad did what anyone who loves you would do and decided to have a giggle and leave me there until I eventually pulled myself round with a start when my elbow slipped from its position on the table and I suggested it might be time for me to go home. We did eventually leave, bleary-eyed Ginger and Hairy, once he'd leisurely finished his pint. I've suggested we just invite friends over for my birthday next month since I don't particularly want to repeat that distracting show in public in a hurry. How I managed to sleep through the noise is a mystery; I was sat next to the speaker and predictably I went to bed with ringing in my ears.
I am slightly mortified for the band. It's the first time I've had to pull the cancer card to make someone else feel better, since I was noticeably snoozing while they were giving it their all. They weren't even bad, although a little unusual given their use of a piano accordian player who desperately wanted to be a rock star and an overgrown goth who spent quite some time calling out numbers like he'd occasionally found himself lost and felt the need to host a game of bingo.
Despite all this joy in the land of the ginger, I've become adament that I'll return to work on Monday whether it's a good idea or not. I'm losing all brain function and it isn't likely to return in a hurry if I don't even attempt to use my mind constructively. I believe I feel blank a lot of the time. It could be mistaken for a preoccupation with my thoughts but I still feel like there's a fog in my head that hasn't cleared. Work might not help clear the unseasonal weather in my head but I imagine it can't do any more damage than all the vegetating has done.
I've popped into work a few times and caught up on the goings on. I think it's fair to say I'll be very busy again and I've already pre-warned my team and colleagues that should I fall asleep they should just poke me and remind me I'm supposed to be conscious and productive.
Life is ticking by. I'm officially watching and waiting; if I remain lucky I'll spend far more time waiting with nothing big enough that needs to be treated rather than watching my human strawberry patch sprout fruit again. For now though I'm just happy that in the grand scheme of things I'm pretty healthy.
