Wednesday, 16 March 2016

You Had One Job!

Oh FFS Cancer,  you had one job and you're screwing it up. This isn't 'an open letter to my cancer' because a) that  concept has been done to death, b) there's something incredibly twatty about writing letters to inanimate objects or total strangers who aren't going to read them a la 'letter to the man who looked at me funny on the train', and c) I flatly refuse to make something that didn't do its job properly so important. The only mutants worth honouring in my book are Leonardo,  Michealangelo, Donatello or Raphael. If you're not the ninja turtle type of mutant you get no recognition with me.
But up until now, me and the chest bogey had a deal whereby it was caught red handed, stopped in its tracks and I felt a bit grotty but was coming up with new disguises which I like to refer to as Cancer Chic.  There was the cheating phase,  where I hadn't started treatment yet but told people I had cancer just to get the 'but you look so well's'- gotta take your compliments wherever you can get 'em,  then there was the Starlet Scarf phase where I covered my baldness in a scarf and full on 'she's got cancer' uniform, Sad Beanie phase where I hid without makeup under a beanie ALL THE TIME even in bed and nearly in the bath, glam makeup and wig phase,  and the latest look (pictured) which is a mix of the last two- undercover glam, which arose out of necessity because having no lashes is quite frankly mental on your eyes and I only need step put of the house for them to stream uncontrollably. It streaks the makeup and i'm scared it will matt the wig.  Neither is a good look.

So anyway, there I was being successfully vacuous  and treating cancer like a detox and makeover scheme when it decided to throw me under the bus. Again
First there was the news my pulse was high - a normal at rest pulse is about 70bpm. At chemo last week mine was 110 and when it was measured in an ECG this week it's at 121bpm. I am now part of an exclusive group who can feel their pulse in their eyeballs.   I just wish I was musical because I'm sure it would serve some sort of use to me then but at the moment it's quite annoying. I'm waiting to hear from my oncologist what it means for my treatment as it may change things.
Secondly, it turns out when chemo nurses run through the signs of an infection  they're not just doing a mandatory safety notice and alerting you to your nearest loo and what to do if a fire alarm goes off. It turns out infections can happen. They do happen and one has happened to me. So, so close to getting through chemo without one too godammit.
So here I am feeling like i've got the flu on top of feeling like i've got the flu and making arrangements for the girls over the next couple of days with the upshot being an extra weekend at their dad's so I can rest up.
I think i'm a bit put out with having to feel really quite poorly- it's a huge inconvenience and a bit of a low blow that as well as looking like a crash test dummy I have been made to feel like one too. And that nasty cancer pulled my hair out and made me cry. Let me tell you friends that crying is not the same several cycles of chemo in.  Crying without lashes is instant blindness with tears having nowhere to go and don't get me started on what happens if you're a snotty cryer- basically no nasal hair means no flow control- cry and splat, cry and splat....
But don't read any of that and think i'm sat here feeling sad. I'm not. I'm just a bit peaky and feeling incredibly lucky for all the wonderful people in my life. There's still a lot to be grateful for.
How's this for starters 'an open letter to my cancer (cringe cringe cringe),
Dear Cancer,  you're not worth it.

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