The Blue Pill vs The Red Pill
I always wondered what I would have done if I had been in Neo's shoes and had been offered the choice of the Red Pill or the Blue Pill? Stay safe with blue and live your existence, whatever it may be, real or fabricated. Or go with danger. Choose Red. And open up a whole new world of crap...sorry I mean Opportunity. Well The Matrix just got all a bit more uncomfortably real again. Damn, stupid bloody sci-fi.
We had a year of "cancer crap" We had some bloody good laughs along the way. But quite a few tears. And a lot of anger and rage and feeling sorry for ourselves. And then the anniversary came round and we all thought we were done. And then, 22nd July, my poor long suffering hubby, Alex, finds out his mum also has Breast Cancer. She will be having an operation in the next three weeks. So a year and two days to the day when I sat in front of the consultant and got the shitty news, we are back there again.
Now I am not a very religious person. But I think if there is a God up there he/she must be having a right old, bloody laugh at our expense. Someone, somewhere, has a great big stick with a huge pile of poo stuck on the end of it and is enjoying waving it in our direction. I can see him or her chuckling saying "Ha! Take that! Here is some more shit that I can fling at you! What-oh. Such fun!"
So now, just when we thought we were finished with the endless rounds of hospitals, consultants, scans, tests, surgery and all the cancer crap it will begin again. Back on the merry go-round. It hardly seems like we got off it.
And there was me, stupidly lulled into a false sense of security thinking we could get back to "normal". I am polishing my scars up with "Recovery Oil". Not sure if it will work but the oil smells nice. And I am wearing my compression sleeve to help with the lymphodema, which is lovely and hot and sweaty in this weather. The Tamoxifen is really kicking in too. I am logging all my hot flashes (of which there are very many during the day) and the night sweats, and also a food diary to see if anything is a trigger. (I kinda think it is probably the wine but let's not go there). I have invested in a "chillow" which added to my Bridget Jones big-pants and my compression sleeve and dodgy scars, is a really sexy look of a nighttime. Romance is not dead in our house, just on vacation!
I had a nice follow-up letter from Mr Bond, my uber-lovely Plastic Surgeon man. Here are some salient quotes "I am really pleased with the way things are settling down despite the intensity of the peri-operative period!" "I look forward to hearing how she is in three months time shortly after her trip to the Reading festival!" Such a nice man. I could kiss him.
And the kids are on holiday. So we have been swimming - which is most excellent for lymphodema I am reliably told, although I had little stamina and I could not manage to swim, more just wander around the baby pool, getting wet. Today we saw "Pacific Rim" with the fine Idris Elba and Burn Gorman. Excellent to watch people smash the shit out of monsters. I find that most gratifying in a movie. My right leg is getting deader and feeling more weird by the day. I am not sure what is going on with it. I complained again to the GP who gave me more painkillers. I feel the need to self-medicate with wine however. And I am still really effing tired. I fall asleep before my children these days. Absolutely ridiculous behaviour!
And we still await our Reading tickets. When they arrive there will be a SQUUEEE moment. I think we need some more of those sqquuee monments.
And still the stalker follows us. Tracking our every move. Just when we think we are done, she goes"Really? You really think you are done? Really?". She is one mean S-o-B.
I think things are going to get a bit grim again. We still haven't found our way back to Kansas yet. Bloody yellow brick road has meandered off into the Dark, Dark Woods. Best steer clear if you ask me!