The 3rd of June.
I’ll think I’m going to have a very chilled weekend. I woke at seven and started to get up and do things when I thought that it was a bit quiet, looked at the clock, and thought “I don’t need to be up yet. Back to bed.” Two hours later, I emerged.
I spent my morning feeling a bit upskittled for some reason, so I wrote up my very long blog post about Wednesday and Thursday and considered curling up in a ball as a viable option for the rest of the day. Things started to improve around lunchtime, by which point I was on my own, because Mommy and Daddy had gone to Henley-in-Arden to sign some forms about financial things. I don’t need to be involved so that is the extent of my knowledge.
Sarah wanted to come and see the kittens again, so she popped round for a bit this afternoon and had a squidge. Gabby was very amenable, allowing her tummy to be tickled without getting bitey. She didn’t stay long, about half an hour, then for the rest of the afternoon I sat with the fluffies and watched an iZombie and a Fringe. Mommy came back, having taken Daddy to the station for his trip to London where he’s spending the weekend doing Sundance Festival with Christine.
We watched a Project Runway while I crocheted another orang-utan leg, and now she’s gone out with Alison to visit Gill. I am wishing I was allowed to take ibuprofen, I hurt such a lot.
The 4th of June.
I so look forward to being well again so I can return to the gym. Being full of cough rather puts a limit on activities. It’s been another quiet day at home, and I suspect tomorrow will be much the same.
This morning, Saturday Kitchen while reading the paper. There was a piece about “Things I wish people had told me about chemotherapy” and I can’t bear them. Someone writes about how one regime affected them (the drugs of which she does not specify) and some things she did that helped. Like a hair-replacement system costing £1600. Pretty sure most people can’t afford that kind of expense. This woman says she never had to see herself bald, and I don’t know why she thinks this would have been so awful. Anyway, if you want hair, there are loads of wigs you can get MUCH cheaper and people can’t tell (unless you’ve worn a wig, then you can spot them everywhere). And this system was still fake hair, so it just looked like a synthetic wig. If you’re spending that much money, get a real hair wig, then you can style it and it looks better. It just bothered me. I make a point of saying I can only write about what happened to me, and it is unlikely that the same drugs will affect someone else the same way, or that what helped me will help other patients. The author made no such disclaimer, just that she is what she did. One of the things she advises is fasting during chemo, which there is no supporting evidence for, and I know literally zero doctors who would recommend this.
I don’t know. I just didn’t feel it was very responsible.