Where I beg

Cancer related things are kicking my butt at the moment.
After months of jollying along, the big ol' sad has caught up with me again. Mostly because Arimidex is *hurting* at the moment. My lower back and hip joints *hurt*. Of the 'I'm uncomfortable standing, sitting and lying down' variety. Of the ibuprofen and paracetamol are not really cutting it pain-killing-wise at the moment. Of the 'only boiling heat seems to dull the pain enough to sleep' variety. There are only so many nights and days you can go through without starting to turn into some insane, about to eff and blind at anyone and everyone type of person.
And at moments like that my brain gets locked down into panic-mode. And all I can think is that the medication isn't working; the cancer is eating away my pelvis and spine and the end is nigh - woe is me - etc, etc.
And I scare myself when I get like that. I start to worry that I'm going to accidentally kill myself by taking too many painkillers - just because I got to that point where I was so desperate to make the pain stop for just a moment that I took another dose. I'm not saying I'm about to do that - in fact I'm bloody careful not to; but I can see so clearly how you could end up there.
I know I'm going to have to call my breast care nurse and at least get some sleeping/relaxant stuff from her. But I'm just so scared that they're going to whisk me in to have tests done and I'm going to end up not being able to go out to the States to be with my mum and my brother for Christmas. And we've booked the flights. And the insurance companies either won't insure me for anything cancer-related or they won't cover cancellation and curtailment. Either way it will be money wasted. And I won't get to have old-school Christmas.
Hate This.
The other morning the sun was shining so brightly but it was really cold - quite a rarity here; and I was so torn. It was beautiful but it made me sad. And I thought - I don't want to love like this; here, in this life of mine. But I can't go back to my old life. And I can't change the fact I have cancer. Wherever I go; whatever I change; I can't change that. If I do something new or different then I'm just dragging cancer off to the new and different spot with me. It doesn't go. It's the cartoon/old movie irons around the ankles.
Second verse, same as the first.
The other night I got home and just ended up crying and saying 'please'. Over and over and over again. Begging. With God, with the Universe; with the wind and the cloud and the rain and the snow and the ocean - with every wave in the sea. Just 'please' - please let the last four years have been a dream. That 'worst nightmare I've ever had' that was my first thought when they said it was cancer. Please. Please let this not be. Please. Please. I don't know how to ask any more nicely. I don't know how to be any better; any more deserving.
My miracle. Please.
Or maybe - if this has to be real - could I live in the dreamworld instead. Shut down this external existence and just live in dreams.
Please.

Please.

Brain overload

It's raining again and I'm all of a confuddle as I try to count trangias and knives and wooden spoons and teatowels and a multitude of other things
And write last minute letters to parents saying "wellies! Dear God, send your daughter in wellies!"
I brought home 2 litres of meths today - it's amazing how noone bats an eye as you buy two litres of flammable liquid.....
The Dear Other is coming to this event and one of the organisers asked if he'd be able to help with the digging......I didn't laugh. He's perfectly capable of doing lots of digging; but it's the sort of thing that he'll get bored and frustrated with very quickly.....probably in a manner similar to a brownie. Hee. That'll be fun!
In the meantime, I still need to test 4 trangia burners - I don't want to be caught out. Plus, work out what to do with the group of Guides coming who have only told me this week that they're coming but have decided not to take part in the cooking competition.....erm - here's a field. Sit in it. I think they've defaulted themselves into helping brownies plant trees.....
Plus printing. I have to print and photocopy things and remember things and make sure my second group of Guides know what to cook.....eek.
Argh.
Urgle.
Then I'm watching High School Musical 3 on Sunday. It's called "how to bribe brownies and guides to come to church parade". And I don't feel good about it. (that may be the "start of something new" - ack!)

Hope - how to

I was asked recently: how do I find hope?
Some days, to be honest, I simply don't. Some days I simply feel done over by life and that I'm not prepared to hope because I tried that after my first round of treatment and got kicked in shins when it came back. It was totally devastating because I'd started to believe that maybe I would be one of the people who came out the other side.
I suppose in some ways it's a fact that I don't know what to hope *for* anymore....I can't hope to 'get better'; I can hope to live as long as I can and to be productive and able for as much of that time as possible. But even that is difficult to contemplate - because I don't know what to aim for - a year? 5 years? 10 years? I have no idea and I don't think anyone *knows* - they can guess, but I don't want to know that because it won't be long enough. And anyway, I feel so cheated, even if I live for years(!) I have to live a half-life; a life that revolves around the treatment necessary to give me that time.
A life where I don't get to have children; and I keep unearthing just how much I wanted that. Somewhere out there, in potential-land, is a little girl who was supposed to be my daughter and she was going to be called Anna, after my Great Grandmother and sometimes I can feel her, I can feel myself holding her as if she were already here. But she never will be. Not with me, not mine.
And it's not just about me - it's about the fact that I wanted to see the Dear Other as a father - cancer hasn't just cheated me; it's cheated him too.
::crying now::
Hateful cancer.
I want to give you words of hope - I want you to hope. I feel better when other people are feeling hope for themselves - because I want them, I want you, I want someone out there to make it. If I can't be the person who beats cancer then I want you to be that person.

The way we love

I've been having a bit of a funny week.
Earlier in the week I felt like I was almost having panic attacks. I was really tired and wanted to have a nap but I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears and I felt like I had indigestion almost, but I didn't really. So I couldn't sleep, even after I'd had one and a half Lorazepam. They're supposed to be muscle relaxants but I really didn't feel like I was 'un-doing'.
Then I've been oddly angry and weepy today - I went strangely pathetic when I discovered that Dear Other did not love the bedside cabinets I'd found and fallen for and thought would be just perfect, and thought he would think were just perfect......but he didn't. I'm over it; but I felt so lost - perhaps because we so nearly always concur about things, I'm not very practised at not agreeing. Not that we were arguing about it - I think it was more feeling that we were 'out of tune' with each other and I rely on him a great deal and am very used to being 'in tune' with him that it was an odd experience to not be. If you see what I mean. But, it's a bedside cabinet - it's not going to be on display to the whole world, it's not a big deal (and I do mean that). So I have the new one that I loved and he has the old one that I secretly think he loves since he's had it since the year dot. So, that's OK.

On Friday it's going to be my brother's birthday. I had hoped to go over to the States to be there for it, but I can't because I have to go and have my Pamidronate drip and Zoldex injection. Not a very nice substitute. I've send his present and card and I'll try and get him on the phone (although that's never the easiest thing!) I've discovered I'm feeling pretty nervous about his birthday - he'll be 27. Age 27 was when I got cancer and I think I'm somehow scared that something bad will happen to him - and I don't want it to (obviously). I'd really love 27 to be the year that life opens up for him, that things go right for him; that he finds his place, his niche, his perfect job; that he stops feeling so sad and depressed. If something happens to him, if he gets sick - I'll feel guilty - like I've caused it by being afraid of it. Fairly irrational I think you'll agree. I guess I'm just saying I love my little brother and I would rather the hideous weight of the world fell on me instead of him......

Talking and telling

Damn it! I want to be able to make pretty things like these.
But I'm sure I'd just make a mess of it. And then get cross and depressed. And even if I did manage it, I'm not sure I'd have the courage to wear it. Or rather, I can see myself putting it on, going out there and then spending the rest of the day being totally self-conscious (HA! I typed 'titally' first time around! Freudian slip, or what!?)

What a very interesting day I've had so far. I was asked to come and speak at an event for the Lavender Trust who were doing info sessions for a major chain of shops who will be doing a great deal of fundraising for them in the next 12 months. I was there to be the 'this is what you're actually raising money for' voice. I didn't do too badly, although I don't think I was as fluent as I would have liked to be and I think I repeated myself but I think I did 'reach' people - people responded and asked questions and I think that's good. That was what I wanted - to make people 'feel' something about the cause. Now, I know that the whole 'pinking' and attention-getting is a tricky area and I honestly couldn't tell you where exactly I stand on the whole awareness wagon but it was an interesting experience. I blathered too much I'm sure; and went on too long too but......my perogative!

In more enjoyable news: massage tonight - bliss; I expect to fall asleep on the spot!

Duly licenced (or will be)

Whew! Finally, some time back again. Preparing for my Holiday License has been *really* intensive. I'm knackered but the girls had a good weekend, everyone went home in one piece, nothing un-toward happened, none of them went under a tube train. The visit from my assesor on Saturday went fine; she signed off lots of things in my book and I was left with a few things for the rest of my team to sign off and my accounts to finish off; which is now done.
The girls went off exploring London in small groups on Saturday; I led a pretty good campfire on Saturday evening and then we did lots of the business-things on Sunday plus devising our own song for a party-piece whilst we're in Peru.
So, once my accounts have been verified I'll be qualified to take Senior Section girls away on Indoor Holidays :) There's some stuff that I would have liked to have done differently but that's often the way and I'm satisfied that I did a pretty good job. I *am* really relieved that there were no First Aid emergencies or other problems. I was more organised and together this weekend than I have been for a long time but it's left me feeling quite strange. I think I haven't quite worked out where I stand on the line between in charge and not in charge. I've spent a long time not being in charge of very much in my life, never mind, in other situations and then to move from that to being totally responsible for the planning and running and safety etc of 20 people for 2 days is quite a jump. And I didn't have a problem with doing it, I'm just finding it discombobulating to come back from it.
It's good that I've managed to do this - I don't feel as pleased as I'd like to; but I do *feel* a little more than I have done about anything (other than fear and sadness) for a long time. It's a real contrast, for example, to how I felt - or didn' t feel - last August when I was singing at the Proms.
So, there you go - that's where I've been for a while - waking up a bit.
And I feel so much better now that the light and sun is back. I guess (for today) I am coming back a bit. It's a bit scary how bad, how sad, how black I've felt this winter. I'm just a little bit scared of it getting that bad again.

Don't add up

So, if I did it all, how come I feel so miserable?

How come it takes me hours to get out of the house in the morning? (Other than the fact I don't actually want to go to work anymore - why won't they pay me to stay home and knit? Unfair, I call it.....)

Have to finish arm exercises, have to make lunch (haven't time) still won't manage to be at work until about 11am - totally outrageous!!! They're wonderfully understanding but I just feel totally guilty every time I walk in the damn building......but obviously not guilty enough to haul my ass out of bed a couple of hours earlier in the morning.

Well, it's dark! Dark means it's still night and therefore it cannot be time to get up - see where logic gets you? LATE!

Then must have breakfast with stupid rice milk because apparently dairy is bad if you have (had) cancer. Takes an hour to eat stupid cereal - not wheat - wheat is bad too (I can't remember why). Nutritionists - fuck off!! (if you're a nutritionist, I'm sorry, but all this 'eat this, don't eat that' lark is making me stressed. Life is too short - I am acutely aware of this and I want to have a life while I have one and not spend it juicing celery (no, I do not have a juicer - HAVE YOU SEEN HOW MUCH THEY COST!!!!!! About 100 quid (180 bucks). This, to my mind, is totally outrageous and I'll just chew the celery thank you - added bonus of fibre and cleans teeth) I have too many brackets going on - I'm confused I'll just stick some in and start a new sentence). There, so much better. Don't try and make sense of it - just flow.....or some such malarkey.

Must. Go. To. Work.

Must. Catalogue. Dull. Books.

At least the sun is out - maybe I don't have to cry this morning.