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Documenting not dying since October 2013.

The 18th & 19th; Happy Cancerversary to me!

The 18th & 19th; Happy Cancerversary to me!

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The 18th of August.

Happy Cancerversary to me! Seven years ago, I was diagnosed with one of the worst kinds of leukaemia one can get. Three stem cell transplant (two intentional, one not), one liver transplant, one biliary reconstruction, a superbug and all sorts of other shit later, I am still here. Some people seem confused as to why I celebrate this day, but why should I be miserable about something that yes, will ultimately make my life shorter, but has also made me a better person and given me so many wonderful people and experiences? I'm still alive and for the most part, I'm okay.

I started off the day with a wee stack of american pancakes with caramelised apples and icing sugar, then I drank coffee and watched This Morning while Mommy went to see Grandma. This afternoon, we went to Madeleine's in The Cube for lunch (good sandwich, slightly disappointing cake and coffee, although Mommy said her cake was nice). We then went over to the Bullring and got a number 7 charm from Pandora (new collection and very handy as my links to charms are becoming ever more tenuous). We went into Selfridges to see Mary at Chanel but she must be on holibobs.

Then I had a phone call from Sandeep saying my venoplasty is tomorrow morning so could I come in tonight? So we had to go home and pack the bag before going to Purnell's Bistro for dinner!

When we arrived at the restaurant, Daddy was already there, having a whisky and soda. I had a white peach and vanilla bellini, then the ham hock pressé and the smoked haddock fishcakes, then there was no room for pudding so I had a hot chocolate and Daddy had a green tea, and now I'm back in YPU!

The nurse has been and done all my bloods and swabs, now I'm just waiting for whichever poor soul is on to come and ask me loads of questions and prescribe all my drugs. It's half eleven now, I wonder when they'll arrive.

The 19th of August.

Today has been very boring as it has just involved me waiting for someone to come and get me for the venoplasty.

I was going to wait for the doctor to arrive before going to sleep, but I gave up at some point past midnight and I'm glad I did because she didn't turn up until half past four. So I had a few hours of sleep, but once she was gone, I was awake.

I was gowned up and had my DVT stockings put on pretty early as I was believed to be on the morning list, seeing as I'd been nil by mouth since midnight. Mommy arrived and Sandeep came round with her fellow doctors and said that because I've had klebsiella, I will always be last on theatre lists. So that was good to know. Orlando popped in to make sure I was okay after Oscar - I think I am getting there. I can think about him without crying now.

And we just waited. Watched some tv, read some more of The Goldfinch, tried to have a nap and ignored my dry mouth and grumbly tummy. There was no nil by mouth sign outside my door, so people kept coming and offering me breakfast and water and lunch and warm beverages and every time I was like GO AWAY I AM NIL BY MOUTH WARGH. They came for me at four o'clock, by which time I was wilting.

Got down there, signed some forms, had a little chat with Dr. Riley who was going to do the procedure, then I got taken through. There was some palaver about contrast dye because I'm allergic to the standard one, but we eventually got started at about half past five! They gave me midazolam and morphine this time, so I was totally out of it which was much nicer than last time. When it was over, I went to recovery, and I got back up to the ward very quickly. I had to stay relatively flat for two hours, but I was able to be propped up enough to eat a pretzel and a pear and drink a lot of water. Then I was allowed to sit upright, and by twenty to nine, we were gone!

Now, we wait for me to deflate.

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The 20th & 21st; Frankly, I am sight to behold.

The 20th & 21st; Frankly, I am sight to behold.

The 16th & 17th; This must be what real grief feels like.

The 16th & 17th; This must be what real grief feels like.