Pink moon is on its way

So this weekend’s been better than last.

On Friday, I managed to nurse a pineapple juice and a water for an hour with the gang from work in the pub. On Saturday I… um… well I slept in a bit and I cooked up a steak ciabatta for tea. But that’s better than nowt. Then today… better still (mostly). I managed to get out to see Skyfall at the 10:30 Matinee at the cinema – having picked that as a time that I can usually guarantee to have come around from sleep and not totally want to go back to sleep again yet. I really enjoyed the film (and Daniel Craig of course) and it gave me lots to talk about afterwards when I went to a new local pub for lunch (The Legstraps in Wootton – which was pretty good!). I only had to pull the “too weedy to drive” card on the way back. Yay!

Tonight… was less fun. It involves things one doesn’t normally talk about. That’s probably why it’s been a bit of a nasty surprise for me to have to put up with it! Somehow seeing the toilet bright red with blood is more frightening than cancer. Weird, huh? I know I’m just having a wobble at the moment but it’s hard not to feel sorry for myself confronted with that. Someone else can say it so much better than I can though so I urge you to have a cackle at her blog… here’s Lisa Lynch with her post “And it burns burns burns“. It’s no wonder babies with sore bums have a good WAIL, that’s all I’m sayin’.

So… October is the month my mind has been playing silly emotional tricks on me – because let’s face it I got this far with good humour. After all, one second everything is cool and then I’m finding lumps and having operations and having people be kindly to me and having chemo and being prodded with needles and I’ve taken it all pretty much in my stride and got the f*ck on with it.

Last week for chemo #7 though, I was feeling pretty glad there is only one more of these goddamn treatments. The nurse REALLY hurt me trying to get the drip canula in to my arm – so much so that I couldn’t stand it and I didn’t have any more good humour left. I was sat there with my bottom lip wobbling and tears rolling down my face on the sofa by the time my sister arrived to sit with me. (Meanwhile the nurse was writing on the notes “patient in tears”). So I just had to say to the nurse: “No, you’re going to have to take it out, it hurts too much.” and when she did, she said “Oh, well that’s why it hurt, it had BENT in your arm.” – “Oh nice one,” I thought.  (I’m feeling pretty grumpy about that too!).

Anyway, that and the stuff last weekend really knocked the stuffing out of me. I can do being strong about having cancer and chemo. I don’t let much of it get to me as long as I can understand what’s wrong and know there’s (probably) a solution or a outcome that follows some kind of progression and makes sense. However, stuff that hurts emotionally and is completely undefinable is rather more tricksy and I need to not think about it again for a little while.

It’s not really surprising that things are beginning to take their toll. It’s been a few months of not-normality. I keep finding things that I like to eat or drink that I’m not allowed to have now. I’m not even supposed to drink bottled water, so all that monitoring my fluid intake and stuff I was doing really well with, has gone a bit flat. To top it off with this Taxotere treatment, the food and drink I am having all tastes like Plasticine with rusty nails in it! Anyone who knows how much I love food will tell you; this is a Very Bad Thing.

What with the complication of having to think about what containers I am allowed to even drink out of, I’m finding it harder to put in the effort to keep my water intake maintained. This then probably led to my toilet disaster scene. It’s all getting to be a bit much at the moment, I think I’m just becoming a bit depressed and that’s affecting my motivation to look after myself properly.

Must try harder tomorrow, and stop being mopey.

Also for now, I must stop typing because it hurts my effing fingers. Grr.

Saw it written and I saw it say,

pink moon is on its way.

None of you will stand so tall,

pink moon is gonna get ye all.

And it’s a pink moon.

Lyrics by Nick Drake