Saturday, May 19, 2007
I have switched to a random new format in order to retrieve archives. it seems to have worked. too drunk to see if all my linx have come across as they should have.
OK. couples' night. fucking cheeky little apostrophes. I hate them in the wrong place. did I mention I was drunk?
drunk. no, really. apparently my mother's group friends, at least the two I've just left, do this all the time. but I felt like I had Bad Mother written all over my forehead as I walked home at 9.30 pm, three sheets to the wind, with my still-awake son. and I let him walk out of the pram. dh was asleep. still is. got home from overseas work trip trashed. declined social couple's night. sometimes I think I am a single mum. but with an income. and some babysitting if I want to swim on the weekend.
my copy of Cancer Vixen has arrived. it looks rad. and purple. NOT bright fucking pink my god if I see that colour one more time I will throw up more than I ever did in chemo. fuck hope and positive thinking. go pessimism and carpe diem. no nasty surprises that way yes, drunk.
:)
read a profile of a brain surgeon in the saturday paper. thought it was safe to read, but no, he doesn't just do brain cancer, no, he does secondary breast cancer IN the brain as well. goddam. none of this applies to me. nothin' to do with me. nup. not me.
denial rocks. I walked home tonight under the stars and white night clouds with my boy holding my hand, talking nonsense, looking up at the sky and saying to a nonexistent god: I'm alive. I am here. I am alive.
my copy of Cancer Vixen has arrived. it looks rad. and purple. NOT bright fucking pink my god if I see that colour one more time I will throw up more than I ever did in chemo. fuck hope and positive thinking. go pessimism and carpe diem. no nasty surprises that way yes, drunk.
:)
read a profile of a brain surgeon in the saturday paper. thought it was safe to read, but no, he doesn't just do brain cancer, no, he does secondary breast cancer IN the brain as well. goddam. none of this applies to me. nothin' to do with me. nup. not me.
denial rocks. I walked home tonight under the stars and white night clouds with my boy holding my hand, talking nonsense, looking up at the sky and saying to a nonexistent god: I'm alive. I am here. I am alive.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
aargh. husband away, brain has gone into creative overdrive but no time to write or blog or think. leading to a pile of scraps of paper which are supposed to constitute notes against that mythical future day when I have Time.
have considered ditching my trip to the country on Sunday but I think even though I have so much to do here, I really need to put myself into peace and solitude even for that 24 hours to keep stable.
latest annoying comment: from the woman with three kids at the childcare centre, one a small baby, who said it was her last and laughed "you've got to stop somewhere". Iike they are chocolates or something. yes, sour grapes. speaking of chocolates, did you know that Tim Tams come in prime-number packs so they can't be shared equally between two or more people? it's true. rush to the cupboard and count your Tim Tams now.
while husband away, have scheduled in an appt with the IVF dr for October, plus another oncologist meeting. and planning the CT scan for November sometime. maybe, one day not too far away, the waiting will be over.
have considered ditching my trip to the country on Sunday but I think even though I have so much to do here, I really need to put myself into peace and solitude even for that 24 hours to keep stable.
latest annoying comment: from the woman with three kids at the childcare centre, one a small baby, who said it was her last and laughed "you've got to stop somewhere". Iike they are chocolates or something. yes, sour grapes. speaking of chocolates, did you know that Tim Tams come in prime-number packs so they can't be shared equally between two or more people? it's true. rush to the cupboard and count your Tim Tams now.
while husband away, have scheduled in an appt with the IVF dr for October, plus another oncologist meeting. and planning the CT scan for November sometime. maybe, one day not too far away, the waiting will be over.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
it's entirely possible I will forever associate yellow chrysthanthemums with the words "80 per cent of recurrences have happened by this point" and the sight of my oncologist rather melodramatically tearing up my extremely boring blood test results.
technically the 2-year mark post treament is the end of July. the end of next week is 2.5 years post diagnosis.
and twice since today's appointment (where there were yellow flowers on the desk) I've thought: maybe I won't die - and had a sort of exhaling reaction that you'd expect when, say, you've just crossed a railway crossing and an unexpected train shoots over the crossing half a foot behind you.
how much tension, fear and anxiety have I really got stored up? living with cancer is a funny kind of living. lately I've had a little more physical energy, probably due to the fitness regime post-reconstruction-fuckup. but I also wonder how much of my Hong Kong exhaustion was cancer, not breastfeeding. after that, of course, there was chemo, radio, etc. am I only now, a month before my 41st birthday, coming back into myself? if I backdate all the medical hooha to IVF it's been 4.5 years of this shit. about time to get my mojo really happening again, methinks. not sure how: a new job? a new assault on writing? a 25 year old lover who doesn't mind a mastectomy? I'll think of something. dr also said he was quite relaxed about the baby thing now, signalling that I really was quite likely to die. and now I'm not. YAHOO! (with the usual shouldn't-celebrate-it's-bad-luck reservations)
btw, must get: cancer vixen. don't know if it's sold here. an extract ran in the paper the other weekend. she looks like she has the right attitude. she was diagnosed almost exactly 6 months before me
technically the 2-year mark post treament is the end of July. the end of next week is 2.5 years post diagnosis.
and twice since today's appointment (where there were yellow flowers on the desk) I've thought: maybe I won't die - and had a sort of exhaling reaction that you'd expect when, say, you've just crossed a railway crossing and an unexpected train shoots over the crossing half a foot behind you.
how much tension, fear and anxiety have I really got stored up? living with cancer is a funny kind of living. lately I've had a little more physical energy, probably due to the fitness regime post-reconstruction-fuckup. but I also wonder how much of my Hong Kong exhaustion was cancer, not breastfeeding. after that, of course, there was chemo, radio, etc. am I only now, a month before my 41st birthday, coming back into myself? if I backdate all the medical hooha to IVF it's been 4.5 years of this shit. about time to get my mojo really happening again, methinks. not sure how: a new job? a new assault on writing? a 25 year old lover who doesn't mind a mastectomy? I'll think of something. dr also said he was quite relaxed about the baby thing now, signalling that I really was quite likely to die. and now I'm not. YAHOO! (with the usual shouldn't-celebrate-it's-bad-luck reservations)
btw, must get: cancer vixen. don't know if it's sold here. an extract ran in the paper the other weekend. she looks like she has the right attitude. she was diagnosed almost exactly 6 months before me
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