Had a lovely email from the Rev Les from work today. She contacted me to let me know that one of her parishioners had breast cancer and subsequently had a mastectomy. I think her words were 'she gets her tits out regularly'. I've emailed her and linked her on Facebook.
Later...
K contacted me offering to meet up and also telling me about a meeting that’s happening at the local hospital for post mastectomy patients. She thinks this is probably not really suitable for me but is coming to see me on Monday. Which will be great but is making me really nervous. This is all far too official. It's as if someone has taken me and parachuted me into a parallel universe. All the good bits of my life have been taken away and I've been given shit instead. Everywhere I look there are notifications about breast cancer. It really pisses me off. I wasn't interested in them before and don't really want to be interested now. I've got my bag of chosen charities and am really resentful that 1) Real life is forcing me to review my choices 2) I apparently can't afford the 'luxury' of focusing on those 'less fortunate than myself' anymore 3) I'm being confronted with my own mortality by bloody women running down the road in their pink bras.
OK. I KNOW I'm being a petulant, selfish bitch. No one else needs to point this out to me, thanks.
No comments:
Post a Comment