Avoidance tactics

Here are some things I should be doing:

• Finding out about what will happen when the Cancer Drugs Fund (CDF) comes to an end next month.  I know it will be bad news and I haven't got the heart to read it.  (The CDF allowed patients in England to access some cancer drugs which were not otherwise available.)
• Starting an online course I registered for about immunotherapy.  But it looks like it might require thought.  Besides, the dog ate my homework.
• Looking at the scary form I've received questioning my right to receive Employment and Support Allowance (a state benefit) and asking lots of questions about my ability to work.  I don't have the mental stamina necessary to complete the form let alone hold down a job.
• Completing the skirt I started making last year.  But I'm at the stage where I have to do things with interfacing and attempt a button hole.  Cue an attack of the vapours.  The pattern says 'only one hours sewing time'.  Ha ha bloody ha

The material is now even more 'vintage' than it was last summer when I bought it

 Anyway, here's what I've been doing instead of all the boring stuff above.

•  Getting out and about in the winter sunshine

•  Going on two, yes two, snowdrop walks.  Never let it be said I don't know how to live on the edge.  In case you're interested, or even if you aren't, one walk was the annual one in support of a local cancer charity, (many thanks to all the family members who turned out in support of this, once again you warmed my cockles) the other was at Rode Hall.

•  Going to Cambridge for the weekend.  It was very chilly and I walked my legs off

 

Trinity College (I think).  My brain had frozen by this point.

 

Punting?  In that temperature?  Silly sausages!

•  Stopping off at Ely Cathedral on the way home.  Truly my middle name is Culture (or possibly Louise, you guess).

•  Getting excited about finding a local shop (Whitchurch) bearing the family name

 

What can I tell you?  I'm easily pleased

•  Gazing soppily at a happy Cyril (the three legged monster cat).  Also taking him to the vet again after he got into yet another fight That's 53 quid on antibiotics thank you very much.

Bless his furry little chops

•  Purchasing (for reasons too complicated to explain) a Playmobil Elvis.  I'm pleased to say he was well received.

Now before you start tutting and shaking your heads about my avoiding all the things I should be doing, the reason is not, as you might have thought, cowardice, laziness or excruciating hangovers.  No, the truth is I have been traumatised and the shock has rendered me quite incapable of anything except the most frivolous activities.  One of my sisters discovered (I know not how) that our old family home is now used for this.  And to think I thought finding out I had incurable cancer was a shock.  What did I know!

Unreliable

Oh dear.  I had hoped to go to Birmingham today to have a mooch around the shops before they get too relentlessly busy but instead I'm taking a leaf out of the cat's book and lounging around on the sofa doing a lot of this

I'm not sure if today's lethargy is chemo related or due to me having a flu jab yesterday.  All I know is I'm not firing on all cylinders.  In reality, compared to what some people suffer on chemo, I'm having a pretty easy time of it on Eribulin (so far).  But it does make me tired and also sends my temperature a bit haywire at times.  As a result I've had to bail out of a few recent social events, which makes me grumpy.  I hate being an unreliable friend but when I'm tired and grumpy it's probably best for everyone if I go into hermit mode.  The good news is that I've got a week off chemo at Christmas time (I wrote a begging email to my oncologist and laid it on with a trowel) so I'm hoping to be full of beans for the festivities, especially as a big family getaway is planned.  All I can say is watch out Hampshire.  You have been warned.  

The other-half and I have risked divorce and done some cooking together in preparation.  You wouldn't believe the blood, sweat and tears (and booze) that have gone into this cake.

We've yet to ice and decorate the cake - so the story continues

Anyway, unreliable as I am, constantly failing to turn up to planned shindigs, I cannot compare with my paternal grandfather.  Sis no 3 has been doing lots of work on the family tree but until recently my grandad was a bit of a mystery.  

The last known picture of my grandad (picture from here)

He walked out on his wife and four children (including my dad) in the early 1920s and was never heard of again.  I had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt over this behaviour (which caused a lot of hardship to his wife and kids) but my sister has finally managed to find out what happened and it's not particularly edifying.  Apparently he ran off to Coventry, Coventry I ask you, (apologies to any Coventry bods reading this).  Other highlights of his life include

• Entering into a bigamous marriage and having another family
• Somehow getting his name on a war memorial in Cardiff as having been killed in action in 1918
• Claiming (and receiving)  the old age pension two years earlier than he should have
• Being convicted of bypassing the electricity meter in his house and thereby defrauding the electricity company

What a total ratbag.  The other-half is dismayed at what sort of family he has married into.  

To finish on a brighter note, the other-half's six year old godson was chatting to us the other day and informed us that he was going to be an indicator in the school play.  Much confusion followed.  Turns out he's playing the innkeeper.

A spring in my step

I'm just back from the oncologist's and am pleased to report that my cancer is stable.  In other words it isn't shrinking but it isn't growing either.  So I will continue on my current treatment, capecitabine and lapatinib, and then have another CT scan in late April to see what my insides are up to.  So, for now, I'm a happy bunny.

And spring time is just around the corner.  There are snowdrops and crocuses and the beginnings of daffodils here in Shropshire.  In fact, any local-to-Shropshie bods, if you'd like to see a kabillion snowdrops in one place and give to a worthy cause then come along to Winsley Hall this weekend (Sat 21st and Sun 22nd Feb) and stroll in the grounds for a fiver and see more snowdrops than you'll know what to do with.  The money goes to the Lingen Davies Cancer Fund.  More info on the snowdrop walk here and on the Lingen Davies Cancer fund here.

In other news I seem to have started a mini debate on Facebook about the correct way to eat a fish finger sandwich.  The correct answer is, of course, with tomato sauce.  I'm already aware, courtesy of the other-half, that some dimwits prefer brown sauce.  In addition to this heresy, it seems some benighted souls think that mayo or tartare sauce are the way to go.  I feel sorry for them all.  But not nearly as sorry as I am for the person who has never tried the gourmet delight that is a fish finger sandwich.  It really goes to show that the old cliche is true, there's always someone worse off than you are.

Mellow Sunday

After a bit of a slow start (too much thinking time, stop it brain) we got going and headed out and about for a walk at Winsley Hall in Shropshire. It’s a private house which opens its grounds each year at snowdrop time. So had a bit of a sedate stroll and, what’s more, the entry fee was in aid of the Lingen Davies Cancer Appeal, so that may well benefit me too. Talk about charity begins at home. I’ll not be getting any prizes for selflessness that’s for sure. Anyway, the walk was very pretty, restful and, unsurprisingly, snowdroppy.

After that we drove around the countryside for a bit, over the Stiperstones, and had a good old-fashioned Sunday lunch in a good old-fashioned pub (The Crown at Wentnor), which also included a pint. All of which has induced a lovely feeling of mellowness. I suspect the booze is mostly responsible, now if I could just get a lager drip set up I’d be fine. Gratutitous Shropshire scenery shots:

I'd like to tell you that the fact that I could not get the two countryside photos to sit in a straight line on the page did not bother me one bit, for I am a free-spirit who laughs in the face of conventional formatting rules. However, the truth is that I will need extensive counselling to deal with the trauma.

In other news:

Cyril’s house arrest has seen him so bored that he too has taken up middle-aged pursuits (even though he’s only two) and is helping with the jigsaw in his own Cyrily way. There may be tears before bedtime. Maybe I could get him on to the sherry instead.

P.S. On a medical note

I know I've confused a couple of people (well, the thick ones) with my clumsy explanations of what is wrong me. For anyone interested here is a clearer version of what secondary breast cancer actually is from the MacMillan website.