Seeing as I inflicted you all with my moaning and whining the other day about nowt really, I thought I would write some non-whiney stuff.... not sure if you will make it to the end or not, but it's good for me and you don't have to read it do you, so... here goes again....
Have you ever noticed how in every leaflet etc you are given about cancer, treatment etc , everyone in it is gardening and usually dead-heading roses..?. So much for finding a new rebellion- seems I have a future of pruning roses ahead of me.... so this afternoon thought I had better go out and live up to what is expected of me for once and do some gardening... wore myself out in no time but at least I made a start as the garden is knee deep in grass and brambles as for some reason ;-), up till now, my cancer treatment seems to have stopped me gardening rather than turning me into one! Stupid leaflets... (sorry I should rephrase that.. the leaflets are fantastic, its the constant picutures of happy retired people gardening that do my head in... Though I guess they don't want to put pictures of what we are really doing during treatment, though I reckon me and Sunny and a few others could do some funny ones of what we really do ha ha if you get bored tonight, go and look and count gardeners...
The leaflet that made me laugh the most was the chemo- pump one. For the unitiated this is a grey 80's style canvas bum bag that you strap round your waist with a tube going from your arm, threaded through your clothes to a pump in it full of chemo drugs that drips into you over days. The most bl**dy inconvenient thing I have ever come across.... and did I dance and sing when it was removed!!.. (well metaphorically speaking i did,I couldn't dance if my life depended on it at that point- was doing the penguin or cowboy only) Anyway on the leaflet is a photo of a woman pruning roses (of course), though the photo stops at her waist and the bottom half of her is a drawing of her with this bag pump on (looking tiny) and there is the caption "so discreet you will hardly notice you are wearing it" yeah, right!! I know why they drew it and didn't continue with the photo...you can pin it to your clothes... how?? with a G clamp on chain mail?? and how the hell are you meant to have a shower etc while you are hardly noticing it.... I have to say I feel so sorry for those of you who hardly notice it for weeks and weeks on end- at least I only had 2 weeks worth!
Went to the supermarket this morning- (how rebellious is my life!!) kept passing a woman pushing a trolley with no hair and a scarf on and obviously had chemo (I recognise the look)- I wanted to go up to her and say something either silly or in recognition like 'me too', but having my hair still (well enough that it looks normal to others) and (as everyone KEEPS pointing out) looking sooo well, she wouldn't know and think I was bonkers or something pointng out I thought she had cancer.... and I would have ended up in the dumb things as a quote from her!! so i kept quiet and carried on pushing my trolley round thinking yuk at all the food except the pies ha ha....Funny one cos in one way its a bit stupid saying hello I've got cancer too, you wouldn't do it with other things would you, but actually I think I would like it if someone did it to me- kind of secret society or something - maybe we should have a secret sign or something...? Or is that just me? What has amazed methough is its like coming out of the closet this thing- you say you've got cancer and suddenly loads of people around you go Oh I had cancer.... and you would never know cos they never say and I know we would be a bit weird going round saying hey guess what I've got cancer, or wearing a big badge or something but why do we keep quite so quiet about it?? Probably for that room-silencing ability we have to make everyone quake in their boots as one of my friends said to me "I admire you dealing with the thing we all dread most of all" and I thought well you don't actually have any choice but to deal with it do you, and poor you if you are going round dreading cancer more than anything else.... or maybe its like baby-bores and only interests us... Should we/shall we shout about i??? My other half offered to get me a T shirt saying " I f***ed anal cancer on it", but 1. I think he's being a bit premature and 2. I think that might even be a bit much even for me!!! so thats on hold....
Was reading someone's blog about waiting (can't remember his name- sorry) Actually, you know I used to have the best memory going and was known for it- what happened? Anyone else got that? Anyway, as I was saying... waiting.... I am waiting for my first post treatment appointment and waiting and waiting and everyday thinking of more questions I want to ask GC (gorgeous consultant) poor bloke its getting quite long now....and all he's going to do is stick his finger up there and not be able to conclude much and then back to waiting and waiting for another month for the scan that I am still waiting for the date for and wondering if they have forgotten to put in for it and I will have to wait and wait again and I know we all go through this..... but I have discovered something EVEN SLOWER!!!!
I am also waiting to move house... There are scan dates, There are snails,There are sloths,There is the speed that galaxies form.... and then there are solicitors........!. All of us in this moving chain are waiting and ready to move and what are we waiting for? for a couple of solicitors to print off a contract for us to sign. I feel like phoning them up and asking if they would hurry up before half of us are dead and they won't get their money.... (the woman buying my house also has cancer- another one out of the closet!)Wonder if the cancer card would work on them?? or is that too naughty?
So, I'm waiting for my man.... (Velvet underground) is the song for today- you 'dumb things people' will get that one.
Going to take madmadge's advice and eat some chocolate....and not even going to mention fag.....If you got this far, leave a comment if still breathing and I will send you an endurance medal :)
Little My
