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Monday, 5 August 2013

The Eyes have it

The experiment with the false eyelashes worked well on Saturday.  To be honest they were a bugger to put on.  False eyelashes are meant for people with unwrinkled eyelids, two working arms and a magnifying mirror that is not smeared in finger prints.  However, I got them on (slightly wonky) and they looked OK if I enacted a startled rabbit in headlights look.  

Into the last five days with my big brother, Tim and feeling sad that he is going on Friday - really sad.  It has been so easy and such a joy to have him.  He has weathered the "no fixed abode" for 10 days well and has really been a lifesaver in diffusing tension and making us all laugh.  His party trick is to pretend he is the Baby Eating Bishop of Bath and Wells from Blackadder (Spot the famous actor in this clip) and expand his stomach to look like he is about 6 months pregnant, whilst declaring that he would like a baby for lunch.  There was one seriously worried man, pushing a 6 month old in a pushchair, who rushed past us and then, unbelievably, came back for another look.

The chemo seems to be working well on my shoulder.  I do not need an aspiration this week (Whoopppeee) and am almost looking forward to chemo on Friday.  Chemo makes you feel crappy but it does help with the other crappy stuff.  Talk about Occam's Razor.  I am becoming more resigned to losing my hair but am hoping that dropping the Docetaxal and changing to Eribulin will save my toe nails, which were in danger of falling off.  Loosing your nails makes you feel very vulnerable and there is something really icky about a nail bed, somehow.

I keep telling myself that the indignities (hair loss, constipation, sore nails, slow healing cuts, steroid high narkiness, dry skin, bloating) are worth a few weeks and months but, to be honest, some days I wake up and just want to be done with it.  The five remaining eyelashes are clinging on but I wish they would fall out, the four eyebrow hairs and some really random ones on my legs somehow are more mocking than comforting.  The constant oral hygiene routine can get to you.  The worst is taking the drugs in rotation - steroids to help with healing, morphine to sleep, anti sickness pills - and none of them seem to agree with my favourite indulgences of Sauv Blanc and nicotine.  Sigh.

There is a kind of desperation in my last few days with Tim.  It is unlikely that we shall have such a long, happy time together ever again but I try not to think about it and I think he is doing the same.

Friends are great but nothing beats family.

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