Bad ideas

If anyone is looking for some bad ideas I have a few you could use:

1.  Lose the ability to tell the time

I woke up this morning, got out of bed, turned the heating on, made my morning cuppa and fed the cat.  Then I double-checked the time.  It was 3.30am.  

2.  Try to compete with the cat for warmth

Strangely enough, this afternoon I felt rather tired (I wonder why).  I decided to have a snooze in front of the electric fire.  Stupidly I failed to take into account what Cyril (three-legged monster cat) would make of the situation.

Della 0 - Cyril 1

3.  Give poorly liver a good bashing

So, what do you think would be a good thing to do on finding out that not only has the cancer in my lungs grown but has now also made an appearance in my liver?  Maybe double check my will, meditate like mad or increase my vile green juice intake?  Nah.  Instead I gave my liver a (very enjoyable) evening out and a thorough hammering with an exciting lager/wine combo.

4.  Behave like a 17 year old (with apologies to all sensible 17 year olds out there)

So what next after mixing several gallons of the grape and the grain?  Some damage limitation maybe, like straight to bed with a pint of water?  Nah.  Let's live dangerously, get the felt pens out, and draw on the face of my hapless friend who'd fallen asleep on the sofa.  Thankfully, the following morning, the pen washed off.  Otherwise I would not be around to type this today.

5.  Indulge in public nudity

As you can imagine I attend a lot of medical appointments.  Dignity is a thing of the past and I now peel off my clothes at the drop of a hat.  However, it really wasn't a very good idea to walk into a reflexology appointment on automatic pilot.  I was half-way through taking my top off when I caught sight of the poor reflexology lady's face and remembered that this was most definitely not a stripping off sort of appointment.

6.  Expect any form of co-operation from our feline overlords

This weekend I accompanied friends to the heaven-on-earth that is Shropshire Cat Rescue, where they were choosing which cat to adopt.  All of this is of course, a very good idea.  However I, rather optimistically, decided to take a photo of Pickle the soon-to-be-adopted cat.  My photographic endeavours were scuppered by Pickle's ginger and white cage-mate, Ed. 

I believe the young people call this photo bombing

7.  Experiment in interior design

I've included this one to make myself feel better, as this isn't my bad idea.

A loo roll cover seen in a cafe toilet in Alnwick.  The owner assured me that she'd won it in a darts competition and had not made it herself.


So, there you have it, a selection of bad ideas you might want to try yourself.  No need to thank me.  

I start my new chemo, capecitabine and lapatinib, next week.  Here's hoping that my cancer thinks this is a very bad idea and receives a good kicking from the combo.  Fingers crossed.

And finally, it's December now, which means I am officially allowed to mention Christmas.  So here, have a courgette penguin, as seen at the flower show in the summer. (Oh, OK a zucchini penguin then, if you don't speak English proper like what I do.)

Don't scoff, it's heaps better than the mawkish nonsense produced by John Lewis.  And if you don't agree with me see Charlie Brooker's view on Christmas adverts, a man after my own heart.  Happy Christmas!

Trying to find a balance

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.