Cyril (three-legged monster cat) is enjoying our stay at sis no 1’s (while the building work continues back at Discombobulated Towers). His war with Tuppence (my sister’s cat) keeps him fairly busy. He now no longer has the upper paw as he has received a few well-deserved cuffs to the head courtesy of the ginger ninja. And as if this wasn’t exciting enough he has also found a new hobby. Squirrel watching.
|That looks yummy|
On the health front I had my first radiotherapy session today. One down, fourteen to go. Nothing exciting to report yet but obviously it’s early days.
Since the mastectomy (at the end of February) I’ve been getting out of breath every time I go up the stairs or have to go anywhere even slightly up hill (I’d never noticed how much up-hill-ness there is in Shrewsbury before, but blimey I’m well aware now). I’ve also got an annoying dry cough. I reported all this to the medical bods last week when I went to hospital for a herceptin top-up. I was given a blood test, an x-ray and a CT scan to make sure I didn’t have a blood clot (I didn’t). I have to wait until later this month for another fuller CT scan to see if that reveals what’s going on. I veer between thinking it’s nothing to worry about to being convinced all sorts of horrors are going on in my insides. My outsides aren’t too wonderful either – my hair is still curling like crazy. I thought ‘chemo curl’ was supposed to calm down after a couple of months. Not for me though. Still to be honest I’m just grateful to have hair even if I do end up looking like Art Garfunkel.
|Me or Art? (Picture from here)|