So.
According to the new St John's Ambulance advert, I am going to:
Find out I've got cancer - tick.
Have to tell loved ones including young daughter - tick.
Have surgery - tick.
Have gruelling chemo/radiotherapy & get really sick - tick.
Work hard on my road to recovery - tick.
Have a barbeque to celebrate....
Choke on a sausage.....
Die....
Well - bloody marvellous!
That REALLY cheered up my viewing of the TV recently and reminded me not to attend barbeques in the coming months unless I want to double my odds of not seeing in my 50th birthday. Such fun!
On that happy note - the DWP (Dept Work & Pensions) have declared me fit enough to start looking for work. Based on a computer programme, that didn't have any boxes to fill in for post chemo chronic fatigue / pain management / dysfunctional chemo brain / poor cognitive skills and oh....what was it now.....oh, forgetfulness - the computer said noooo - or in this case yes!
Strange one that - because my GP and hospital consultants have not declared me fit for work yet. Bizarre.
So, Ros, from Macmillan CAB, if you are reading this - I'll be in touch very soon for your help.
But it got me thinking. What jobs could I do in this current state?
a) Bed tester...an hours kip on all beds available in store.
b) TV program assessor - give reviews on Home under the Hammer & my new favourite the Renovation Game (CH4 11am) or the Great British Bake Off......you, Paul Hollywood, can test my buns anytime!
c) Early night organiser. Is it natural to go to bed before my 7 year old?
d) Kindle book reviewer. I'm a Kindle addict....click, click, click
e) Expert DIY thinker. Having always been the DIY doo-er in our homes (Gary's the technical/mechanical wizard) - I haven't quite got the energy to tackle any projects yet - but do like to think of them & dream up new colour schemes or renovation projects. They're all in my head - so I might just go & live in a virtual world.
f) Professional malingerer. After all - that's what the DWP think.....
Well damn them.......perhaps I'll invite them to a BBQ........
Sausage anyone?
Friday, 21 September 2012
Thursday, 6 September 2012
Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday to me!
I know. Crazy isn't it?
Birthdays are just so......annual!
47
And I keep being told - with my pixie Annie Lennox haircut - that I look so much younger than I did...goodness. Must have looked 100...
Had some news on my digital mammogram.
Left-side naughty, wonky boob - fine.
Right side - never had a mention before - two tiny benign tumours - whooaaaa - what?? Where did they come from? When did they arrive? How long they been there? Did the chemo kill 'em off? And anyway - how do you know they are benign? I was so shocked - I only got to ask the last question - to which the response was 'well that's what the consultant radiologist gets paid £100k+ a year for - to make that judgement'. Well I hope he's made the right call - for all our sakes. Next appointment will be with the oncologist (chemo doctor) - such fun!
In my previous post, it wasn't my intention to make you
a) sad
b) feel sorry for me
c) feel guilty
d) think I'm depressed.
None of those apply.
It's hard being honest with yourself when generally you have a more positive outlook on life than some.
I've not done, (and have no intention of doing), the 'pity me', 'poor me' 'why me' routine. Had a belly-full of that from Mrs Bouquet whom we visited with the rest of Gary's family at the weekend, in memorium of my father-in-law Bill's passing (a year ago). Got to get my own chuckle tho - she's only gone and spelt Bill's name wrong on the expensive stone in the cemetery....honestly! Well that'll teach her to run things by the family (especially when we are paying) and not do things off her own back. LOL
And my precious Lily...the same day I published the last post - gave me Loveheart sweets saying...'for you' 'love you' & 'hug me'. And thanks to my hospice counselling - I now understand that when she won't get dressed by herself (which she's perfectly capable) - it's so she can really close to me. Intimate moments with her Mummy. And when I respond with 'Oh for goodness sake Lil you can do this' - it's a rejection by me - making her even sadder. And angrier. I'm learning Lily. Forgive me. But I'm still learning.
So a spiffing day today so far.
Tea, hugs, cards & pressies...West End Lion King tickets for the Gang of Three, a new pet by way of a Venus Fly Trap...just watching it squeeze a wasp as we speak, Chanel Allure etc.
An 'offical' day off (also know as a 'can't be arsed day' or a 'riffy day').
M&S Chinese & hot choc pud with cream & wine tonight.
Lovely....
Happy Birthday
To me!
I know. Crazy isn't it?
Birthdays are just so......annual!
47
And I keep being told - with my pixie Annie Lennox haircut - that I look so much younger than I did...goodness. Must have looked 100...
Had some news on my digital mammogram.
Left-side naughty, wonky boob - fine.
Right side - never had a mention before - two tiny benign tumours - whooaaaa - what?? Where did they come from? When did they arrive? How long they been there? Did the chemo kill 'em off? And anyway - how do you know they are benign? I was so shocked - I only got to ask the last question - to which the response was 'well that's what the consultant radiologist gets paid £100k+ a year for - to make that judgement'. Well I hope he's made the right call - for all our sakes. Next appointment will be with the oncologist (chemo doctor) - such fun!
In my previous post, it wasn't my intention to make you
a) sad
b) feel sorry for me
c) feel guilty
d) think I'm depressed.
None of those apply.
It's hard being honest with yourself when generally you have a more positive outlook on life than some.
I've not done, (and have no intention of doing), the 'pity me', 'poor me' 'why me' routine. Had a belly-full of that from Mrs Bouquet whom we visited with the rest of Gary's family at the weekend, in memorium of my father-in-law Bill's passing (a year ago). Got to get my own chuckle tho - she's only gone and spelt Bill's name wrong on the expensive stone in the cemetery....honestly! Well that'll teach her to run things by the family (especially when we are paying) and not do things off her own back. LOL
And my precious Lily...the same day I published the last post - gave me Loveheart sweets saying...'for you' 'love you' & 'hug me'. And thanks to my hospice counselling - I now understand that when she won't get dressed by herself (which she's perfectly capable) - it's so she can really close to me. Intimate moments with her Mummy. And when I respond with 'Oh for goodness sake Lil you can do this' - it's a rejection by me - making her even sadder. And angrier. I'm learning Lily. Forgive me. But I'm still learning.
So a spiffing day today so far.
Tea, hugs, cards & pressies...West End Lion King tickets for the Gang of Three, a new pet by way of a Venus Fly Trap...just watching it squeeze a wasp as we speak, Chanel Allure etc.
An 'offical' day off (also know as a 'can't be arsed day' or a 'riffy day').
M&S Chinese & hot choc pud with cream & wine tonight.
Lovely....
Happy Birthday
To me!
Monday, 3 September 2012
Own up....
By not writing my blog for a while - I've kind of been avoiding myself - if that is at all possible?
My blog is me.
Searingly honest.
Occasionally witty.
And just plain daft.
So why avoid myself?
Because if I tell you how it really is - then it's in black and white - and then I have to own up to my real feelings and expectations. And other people's perceptions...
You see, with the help of the professionals at the hospice, hospital and GP's, I am beginning to understand why I feel so rubbish. So tired. So much in pain. So down. And it's because I'M NOT BETTER YET!
There.
I've said it out loud.
Subconsciously, I had set personal goals. I inadvertently ruined Lily's 6 week school summer holiday last year, by finding cancer on day one of the holiday. So I was determined to make up for it this year. In my mind, I had all sorts planned. I purchased a bike - with visions of Lily & I cycling the Tarka Trail - with a picnic & a flask. We bought Lily a garden trampoline - so she could bounce to her heart's content. I would take her to the beach; for days out; to the museum; to the cinema etc etc etc. It would be an Enid Blyton style summer holiday - an adventure with lashings of ginger beer. The reality has been somewhat different. Nothing prepared me for those first 10 days of Lily breaking up from school. She was tired. Quarrelsome. Contradictory. Lonely. Bored. Her two good friends were away long term, and I just couldn't provide the full on 'entertainment' package that school had led her to believe that I would. At first - it was hot. Too hot for the trampoline. Then it was wet. Too wet for the trampoline. Too wet for bike rides & picnics. Too wet for a day at the beach. And Mummy was struggling. Big time. And Mummy was too proud to ask for help - from other friends - who would probably have willingly helped - because the perception was clear.
I've grown some hair. It's been a year. I must be better.
Well I'm not.
And Lily is angry with me for that.
And that breaks my heart.
I know she doesn't realise that she was my reason for wanting to live & fight the 'bugger' cancer.
I know she doesn't understand that each time she screams 'I hate you' in my face; or refuses to do as she's told; or has a meltdown over the wrong pair of socks; or says 'Yuck!' to a perfectly good home-cooked dinner; or cries so loudly near an open window, that I fear next-door neighbours will call in Social Services; or phones Granny-Mo to complain about the 'worst Mummy in the world' - that she wears me out just that little bit more. Zaps the seemingly little energy I actually have.
I can hardly turn round & say - 'Well if that's the thanks I get for surviving this far - I wish I hadn't bothered' - cos in truth, that's how I feel sometimes.
I've been waiting for that 'Tah Dah!!' moment - the 'Hey - I survived!!' moment. The Epiphany.
And it hasn't happened.
Yet.
Because I haven't got there.
Yet.
No - I'm not in remission.
No - I'm not better.
Yet
And (according to my medical professionals & my hospice team) - who said I would be?
Who told you that?
Who has the rule book entitled: 'The Time It Takes To Recover From Aggressive Treatment For A Sub-type Of Breast Cancer We Don't Know Enough About And We Haven't Developed The Drug To Keep It At Bay Yet?'
Mmmhhhm?
Who said that Jane??
Perception.
Mine
and Yours
And while I'm ranting - if anyone has read the really crap article in the October edition of Good Housekeeping - page 102 - on breast cancer - DO NOT TAKE IT'S ADVICE. A woman there says how to handle a friend - just like me - when they are going through this. Well - I say back to her - my friends can cry if they want to - they are human; they can invade; they absolutely MUST send thoughts by post or text or anyway they like - (your amazing messages, funny cards, daft gifts have kept me going day by day); do offer prayers if you want - any denomination will do - I'm not fussy!; do ask if you can help and do pretend we look good with a bald head, silly hats, bloated body, scars, tattooed eyebrows and the lovely yellow tinge the chemo brings etc.
And I shall be writing to the Editor complain
Of course!
Oooooh - is that the real Jane fighting back?
Maybe.....
Just a little.......
Go girl! Keep on fighting love.
It WILL be worth it some day.
My blog is me.
Searingly honest.
Occasionally witty.
And just plain daft.
So why avoid myself?
Because if I tell you how it really is - then it's in black and white - and then I have to own up to my real feelings and expectations. And other people's perceptions...
You see, with the help of the professionals at the hospice, hospital and GP's, I am beginning to understand why I feel so rubbish. So tired. So much in pain. So down. And it's because I'M NOT BETTER YET!
There.
I've said it out loud.
Subconsciously, I had set personal goals. I inadvertently ruined Lily's 6 week school summer holiday last year, by finding cancer on day one of the holiday. So I was determined to make up for it this year. In my mind, I had all sorts planned. I purchased a bike - with visions of Lily & I cycling the Tarka Trail - with a picnic & a flask. We bought Lily a garden trampoline - so she could bounce to her heart's content. I would take her to the beach; for days out; to the museum; to the cinema etc etc etc. It would be an Enid Blyton style summer holiday - an adventure with lashings of ginger beer. The reality has been somewhat different. Nothing prepared me for those first 10 days of Lily breaking up from school. She was tired. Quarrelsome. Contradictory. Lonely. Bored. Her two good friends were away long term, and I just couldn't provide the full on 'entertainment' package that school had led her to believe that I would. At first - it was hot. Too hot for the trampoline. Then it was wet. Too wet for the trampoline. Too wet for bike rides & picnics. Too wet for a day at the beach. And Mummy was struggling. Big time. And Mummy was too proud to ask for help - from other friends - who would probably have willingly helped - because the perception was clear.
I've grown some hair. It's been a year. I must be better.
Well I'm not.
And Lily is angry with me for that.
And that breaks my heart.
I know she doesn't realise that she was my reason for wanting to live & fight the 'bugger' cancer.
I know she doesn't understand that each time she screams 'I hate you' in my face; or refuses to do as she's told; or has a meltdown over the wrong pair of socks; or says 'Yuck!' to a perfectly good home-cooked dinner; or cries so loudly near an open window, that I fear next-door neighbours will call in Social Services; or phones Granny-Mo to complain about the 'worst Mummy in the world' - that she wears me out just that little bit more. Zaps the seemingly little energy I actually have.
I can hardly turn round & say - 'Well if that's the thanks I get for surviving this far - I wish I hadn't bothered' - cos in truth, that's how I feel sometimes.
I've been waiting for that 'Tah Dah!!' moment - the 'Hey - I survived!!' moment. The Epiphany.
And it hasn't happened.
Yet.
Because I haven't got there.
Yet.
No - I'm not in remission.
No - I'm not better.
Yet
And (according to my medical professionals & my hospice team) - who said I would be?
Who told you that?
Who has the rule book entitled: 'The Time It Takes To Recover From Aggressive Treatment For A Sub-type Of Breast Cancer We Don't Know Enough About And We Haven't Developed The Drug To Keep It At Bay Yet?'
Mmmhhhm?
Who said that Jane??
Perception.
Mine
and Yours
And while I'm ranting - if anyone has read the really crap article in the October edition of Good Housekeeping - page 102 - on breast cancer - DO NOT TAKE IT'S ADVICE. A woman there says how to handle a friend - just like me - when they are going through this. Well - I say back to her - my friends can cry if they want to - they are human; they can invade; they absolutely MUST send thoughts by post or text or anyway they like - (your amazing messages, funny cards, daft gifts have kept me going day by day); do offer prayers if you want - any denomination will do - I'm not fussy!; do ask if you can help and do pretend we look good with a bald head, silly hats, bloated body, scars, tattooed eyebrows and the lovely yellow tinge the chemo brings etc.
And I shall be writing to the Editor complain
Of course!
Oooooh - is that the real Jane fighting back?
Maybe.....
Just a little.......
Go girl! Keep on fighting love.
It WILL be worth it some day.
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