|Oh alright the photo's a bit dark. The lighting crew were on lunch break.|
The trouble with my Attacking-Cancer-on-all-Fronts scheme is that it can end up making my life all about cancer. Or, to put it another way, I'm in danger of doing my own bloody head in. In between meditating, visualizing (and I visualize my main tumour as a sort of malevolent cocktail sausage just in case you’re interested), juicing, cooking from scratch, reiki-ng, taking the medication, reading up on the disease (which includes a lot of trying to sort the wheat from the limitless bloody chaff),there doesn’t seem to be a lot of brain-space left over for other things. Like cat-worship, husband-baiting or continuing my bitter feud with the allotment Nazis. I just did some on-line shopping but even that was for pyjamas for my hospital stay (mind you that was essential as I don’t want to disgrace myself by wearing my usual threadbare jim-jams).
I can imagine you rolling your eyes and saying ‘well stop doing all the cancery stuff then idiot’. But ‘aha’ I reply, ‘there’s evidence in something I read somewhere (what do you expect? Academic footnotes?) that patients who do more than sit back and leave everything totally in the hands of the medics survive for longer’. So I’m between a rock and a hard place and on the horns of a dilemma. It’s a good thing I’m wearing reinforced knickers.
Have you noticed the new, improved blog design? Actually I’m not sure that it is improved but it’s different anyway. My apologies to anyone who saw it during its change in a brief putrid peach incarnation. I hope you’ve managed to get the vomiting under control and that you find dreary grey less distressing.
And now, in an effort to restore some balance to my life, I am going to do a rash, dangerous and non-cancery thing. I’m going to Tidy The Cupboard Under The Stairs. Here’s the magnitude of my task:
|Somewhere in there is the camera charger. I hope.|
Wish me luck.