Thursday, January 25, 2007

I haven't given up yet!

OK - I went away for a while, and then I came back and caught up on my links and Minerva is kicking cancer's ass again. I'm so sorry Minerva - you don't deserve it but somehow you keep kicking ass.

::Good thoughts/vibes:: in your direction.

I remember, and my nerves twang when I remember my Taxotere (Docetaxol) run. In fact, I definitely have more aches since taxotere. Taxotere pain had a nasty habit of settling in places where I already had aches; my hip joints for example. Like it was searching out my weak spots and rubbing its hands with glee at the thought of causing more pain. It was just unescapable. The grand solution for this pain from the doctors? Ibuprofen; and when I complained that that only took the edge off for about half an hour and then I had to wait another 3 and a half hours until I could take something else they suggested taking paracetamol in between. Right. Uhhuh. They even gave me codeine after my portocath surgery, for heaven's sake! Had little effect and in the end they reduced the dosage of the taxotere - after all, the skin on my hands and feet was falling off; my feet and hands were tingling - I couldn't tie my shoes properly, peel oranges, open cans or unscrew bottles; my nails got a fungal infection under them and went orange - very attractive!

But, hey! You know all this. I've said it all before. But it's still there. This is the trouble. I can't escape this - it's happened. I get reminded every day when I see my scar, when I feel the pull across my chest. It reminds me that I have one breast, that I had cancer - and then all the fear and the memories get pulled back into me. How do escape this? Before Christmas while I fretted about waiting for the results of my smear test I thought to myself 'I can't take this anymore; I can't stand it - I'll just stop eating and then I'll fade away and I won't have to feel anything'

Insane. I know. I am heartened by the fact that I thought this while staring out the window on the third floor of my maisonnette which has scaffolding outside it - where I could have climbed out of and three floors is pretty far up... But it didn't even occur to me - which makes me feel comforted; that I didn't mean it. I didn't want to end my life - I wanted to end the fear and the sadness; and that isn't the same thing.

And yes, I have confessed this to my counsellor and she is not worried; so don't you be either. And kindly keep any tickings off and scoldings to yourself. I don't want to hear about offending God, going to hell or anything else, thanks. If that's all you can say then keep it to yourself. Thanks!

In other news.
I have yet again missed De-Lurking week. I keep meaning to; I wish it was in May - May would be a much better month. I hibernate in January. Which is why I haven't really been here. It's like January doesn't exist; after Christmas I seem to be in February before I know it.

I saw my mum for a week. A whole week out of one year. I survived a year post-cancer in a world where I know that life is *SHORT* and I saw my mum for a week. That is so shit. Why am I not just doing what I want? What I feel like? Why aren't I still being selfish and taking what I want?

His nibs won't declare his intentions in Pizza Express. He said so. We were talking about my working and what will happen when I move to the new house in Northampton and I confessed that I was skittish about not being independent - that I felt it was wrong not to support myself and he so sweetly said that we were a partnership and neither of us had to do everything ourselves, we could rely on the other person. Sweet - the man is sweet. I then plucked up the courage to finally ask if he thought it would be legal partnership and he said that I knew he always did things properly (or something like that) but that I didn't expect him to declare his intentions in Pizza Express. Well, no. I suppose not. But, ::smile::, that does sound like there might be some intention declaration in the future. And I'm actually happy to have some warning, as it were.

Today I gave my unstinting opinion on mastectomy bras. So far I have bought all of mine from the same place - a little shop called Nicola Jane with specialist fitters who are lovely and kind. They looked after me so kindly and gently when I first went there - I needed bras for my prosthesis but I couldn't bear to look at lingerie and Aimee picked out things for me and helped me find some that made me feel good about myself. So, this is the second time they've invited me to come and wear-test some of their new lines. They're looking at the fit and the style and how it works when it's worn. Both times I've found it really interesting and haven't been able to resist saying exactly what I thought! But this time the managing director was there and I went through my whole psychology of underwear spiel - poor chap! He was kind enough to give me his card and let him know if I had any ideas or comments.
So I couldn't resist acquiring a few new things while I was there - they were very kind and let me pick out a free bra to say 'thank you' for my time - nice, black, lace, narrow straps. I can't begin to tell you how important narrow straps are - so many mastectomy bras are what my friend Mol would call 'boulder-holders' with enormously thick straps and general nastiness and they make me feel thoroughly depressed - I won't wear 'em. I also bought a fantastic vest top with a built in, pocketed bra - it looks gorgeous - I'm in love!

Well, after that long absence I've gone on a bit - better drop it now really.

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