Not a long post today because tomorrow is treatment plan day and I will no doubt have a story to tell.
Back in the summer before The Cancer, which by the way I say in a mockney accent, I called my sister and was in full swing moan. Life as a single parent is tough even with the girls having arguably the best dad in the world. We don't see eye to eye a lot but man, I wouldn't have picked anyone else to have my children with. But if you're reading this Nick, you smell :)
Anyway, single parent tough stuff -no help around the house, no shared worries, a blink away from bankruptcy, empty cupboards and the breakdown of the worst relationship I have ever been in (the one I got in after divorce) led to my poor sister getting an earful. "Jesus Marianne, it's not quite Les Mis yet though is it?" She remarked, pressing the point that it could be worse and a whole lot easier if I quit the whining.
Yet you can't escape the irony of these months later, deciding on having my hair cut in preparation of the chemo and sporting a resemblance to Fantine.
See for yourselves....