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I guess this had to happen, though I am feeling better after phone calls with two good friends earlier today. You fight your way through treatment, get that done, fight your way through the physical hell of its effects, start the long, slow recovery and then your focus shifts to the next step. But that next step is weeks away, you are totally exhausted and there is nothing to be done except wait. That next step consists of a scan to see whether the treatment has worked. The potential for paranoia...
Morning everyone,
I am sitting up in bed wide awake with acid indigestion thanks to the chemo watching yet another history programme while the household continues to knock out the Zzzzs.
It doesn't matter though because I have you lot to talk to and when it is quiet I can order my thoughts better.
The chemo effects are building up and I almost always feel nauseous again despite the four different types of anti sickness medicine I take including my syringe driver. It really has taken its toll...
It's nearly 3 am and I'm sitting in the shed. From the other side of the fence I can hear the gentle snorts, snuffles and grunts of a couple of young boar settling down in the ferns. I can tell they are young by the depth of their grunts, nowhere near as deep as the big daddy that chased me down a path this spring. With a shed wall and a fence between us, the noise is strangely comforting. With nothing but air between us, I run like hell and scream like a whoopsie.
Today should have been...
I don't think my eyelids work anymore.
I'm utterly exhausted but wide awake and there's just me and that damn ticking clock for company. Even Basil the cat has gone to bed. In four and a half hours time I leave for work. Between us, work is going to be difficult. Commuting is going to be difficult. Saying my name is going to be difficult.
As the sleeping pills didn't work, my lovely GP said to try upping my pain meds to see if they would knock me out but they've had the opposite effect...
Thanks to the lovely ladies here on Macmillan, my stock of bags is vastly depleted. I say vastly because I really didn't have that many to start with and selling 10 has posed me with a rather nice challenge; I'd better make some more damn quickly!
When I started making the bags I had no intention of selling them, it was purely to see what I could do with some rather nice material and maybe I'd give them away to friends If they liked them. Well I did give quite a few away but I daren't now...
Ahhhhh back home....
We have just arrived back today after a week away in a caravan with the children, a good time was had by all!
The caravan was a lovely big static on a peaceful site with a river running through it, we had no internet or phone signal on site either, so had to rely on books and in my case crochet to keep our minds occupied. Brought back many memories of such holidays of when I was younger and we would go away as a family. You may find it very odd but I love all the little cupboards...
Hi mun passed away from stage 4 overian cancer . She put up a great fight for over 14 months with major surgery and chemo . She was admitted to hospital 2 weeks ago as she was vomiting alot and we was told it was terminal . She had 2 drivers inserted into her legs to help with pain and sickness . The day she passed aeay we was called to hospital to say mum was doing well she had a few weeks left with us and would be moved to hospice . That nighy we went up at 8pm as usual to find mum in so much psin...
I know its not even 9pm, on a Saturday night but I'm in bed and loving it. It's been a long day in the shed. After nine hours of machining, I thought I deserved an early night.
With every bag I make, I learn a little more about myself. Today I discovered that I'm not keen on working with only one colour palate. To be happy bags, my bags need life and life is all about light and shade, and colours. Looking through my stockpile of fabric, I've found there are very few books with plain cloth...
As I replace the cutting edge of urban charity for a snake in the grass, literally (glad the cat didn't see it first!). A good book and a blue sky, I am reminded of another crusade, the mastectomy fall out and the high neck swimsuit…
I do so wish those good couture,
Could lift the necks a little more,
On running tops and swimming suit,
The no boob cleavage rarely cute...
We shave the brave and raise awareness for hair, but I see bare front everywhere! Please could the fashion world catch...
This is a very straightforward "update" blog. It is 6 weeks since I completed my course of radio- and chemotherapy, and the course itself was 6 weeks long. I have used the analogy (and it feels more like an analogy than a metaphor) of climbing a mountain. Each week completed represented reaching a camp on the way to the summit (completion of treatment) and each week after was like reaching a camp on the descent. So now I am back at base camp, 6 weeks after treatment.
Well, I don't feel...
