How much?

They weighed me in hospital yesterday, I wish they’d drugged me before they did that. I’m further than ever from losing the baby weight (youngest child will be 12 next month – years, not months). “It’ll get worse”, said my cheery nurse, “we’ve upped your steroids for the next 3 sessions” I glared, “I hope you’ve filled the biscuit tin then”. I’m thinking of rearranging the furniture at home so there’s a comfy chair by the fridge.

I was talking to a lovely friend last week, he’d had his leg amputated earlier this year. He put on half a stone during recovery. He was quite disgusted he’d lost a leg and gained weight, so he had some sympathy for me losing a boob and my hair and gaining considerably more than he has. A weird conversation, how things change…

When you’re a teen you can’t believe how much time mums spend discussing what’s for tea, I’m Scottish and grew up on a farm, so we had tea. I live in the Home Counties now so my children have dinner, I’m not sure how the change happened. My youngest asked if he could have sushi for his packed lunch this week, I’m thinking of re-homing him. He’s thinking of emailing Jamie Oliver and reporting me for excessive use of tuna mayo sandwiches. Anyway, all my mum, and my friend’s mums, ever seemed to talk about was, “What to have for tea”. We laughed at how dull that was and how we’d never discuss such dull things. Not five minutes out of the maternity unit and the online babygroup  was awash with feeding worries, and so it began and continues.

It seems I’m headed into a new phase now though, where ailments and health issues are the new thing to talk about. I suddenly know more about other people’s ailments and those of their loved ones than ever before. It’s ok, none of them have been gloomy this week, just info that is unrelated to me or cancer. I’m always a bit wary when I meet someone who might not be aware just how much I’ve been told about their ‘issues’, I’m really bad at remembering ‘things I’m not supposed to repeat’. Chemo brain is not helping with this.  Please stop telling me things I’m not supposed to know.

I think I know what comes next. Two old ladies were sat opposite me on the ward yesterday, whilst I waited 6 hours to see if I reacted badly to an injection that’s part of the next lot of treatment. I didn’t react at all. I did react to peeling my face off the plastic recliner I dozed off in. It felt like a few layers of skin stayed on the chair.   Anyway, the next phase is when you have to come up with an gossip-worthy illness and/or an interesting death. The two old ladies spent ages running through a list of friends who were ill and friends who had died. There was a definite kudos to doing it differently. Something to think on.

Since I didn’t react to the injection I had the new chemo today. No more fizzy bums. I won’t miss those. It was by drip this time, so I was in and out of there in just under and hour. Result. Met Pat in Bill’s for lunch, since it had been at least 2 hours since my pre-chemo snack, which was shortly after my pre chemo breakfast. I did offset some of that by running up the stairs (5 flights), I figured that would help get my veins working good and proper. I did consider stopping off at the cardio ward en route but made it in the end. I did have a few rests as there’s a lot of adjusting to be done when running in a non-sports bra with one side only stuffed with cotton wool.

Which brings me to my most exciting part of the week. On Monday I met the Plastic Surgeons. The reconstruction crew. I was very excited about this. Obviously the breast surgeon and oncologist are the most important people, but this bit is like a great big fat cherry on top of survival. A little ‘Yay me!” after the tough bit. There are more ways to build a boob than you’d think, shapes and sizes to be considered, implants or using any (hahahahahaha) fat stores on your tummy. They could tell which I was leaning towards. Maybe those steroids are dual purpose. Nothing happens immediately, after chemo and radio I need a recovery period, but that’s ok, there’s plan and timescale in place.  The priviledge of being here to wait is absolutely fine with me.

And no, I’m not telling you what I weigh. Not unless you bribe me.

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10 Replies to “How much?”

  1. Fi I am a new fan of your blog and just love the honest way you write. Like you I have a daily struggle with the dreaded steroids, My face is permantly either in the fridge or the biscuit tin, none of my clothes fit and I have a fat face! But reading your blog has cheered me up, so a big thank you to you xxx💕xxx

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m thrilled it makes you smile.
      I have been complimented on how young I’m looking. I think it’s because all the wrinkles have filled out, silver linings!

      Stay well and have another biscuit. I insist.

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      1. Bugger all else I can do. Picking up mum soon, she is being beautified as we speak. Taking her to Witherspoon for curry night tonight, don’t think you can put curry on scampi and chips. Do you remember when you had a phase of eating cucumber and chips. Dad even grew cucumbers for you, all weird and wonderful shapes.

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      2. I still like cucumber & chips.

        He used to get so cross when I raided the veg patch. Imagine? Parents getting cross because their child was stealing fruit and veg from their own garden!

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