Friday, 16 August 2013
Busy busy busy
I have been being social. The chemo has lessened the pain, taken down the inflammation and the lump seems smaller. That, and the steroids, have given me the energy to get out and about.
A moment yesterday, whilst sitting sipping my latte with Ali in Costa Coffee in Bury St Edmunds. G comes skipping across the concourse.
"Mummy, I've found the most lovely pair of shoes in River Island"
Chemo brain kicks in
"Are they suitable for school?"
Ali just looks at me, pityingly, which encapsulated the following:
"If she really really likes them, of course they are not suitable for school! Doh!"
They weren't suitable for anything much except looking at really. Those shoes weren't made for walking.....
Lovely afternoon with Tiff, complaining about the amount of "stuff" our mothers had accumulated - acres of lovely things that you don't have room for - and how sentimentally attached we are to clapped out sofas - mine slippy pink silk covered, hers purple velvet. Neither of us have room for another sofa but neither of us care. We are KEEPING them.
A delightful call with Cousin Ann. Dear darling Cousin Ann, get an iPad. They are easy to use, easy to read and then your poor daily will not have to print out my blog for you every time I write one. I give you full permission to ring us up every time you need help with how to use it......
Then Romay arrived from Scotland. Mrs Nice. This is different from The Nicest Woman in the World. Mrs Nice is so nice, helpful, generous and fun to be with. I have forgotten how ten minutes in her company re-energises and revitalises one. I still refuse to accept all the presents she has being trying to give me, including half way down the second bottle of wine, the shirt of her back - literally! Daft Scottish Moo. Her presence is my present.
A happy time.
I just wish I knew that I was going to be well enough to have more chemo. It transforms my life and makes me a fully functioning member of society again, rather than a morose grump bag in pain. Crossing fingers that I can get through the next couple of weeks. Somewhat weird that being fatally poisoned makes you feel better. Talk about counterintuitive.