52. Cathartic-ish

Still feeling normal, thank goodness.  Well.  Other than a sore boob.  Which is to say, probably, not well, but the state of my breast is ideally not defining my state of mind.  Which means perhaps I really should get my head out of my arse and think about others a bit more. 

I went to a Macmillan coffee morning this morning because it was being run by K, the lovely lady who L at work put me in touch with; fellow breast cancer sufferer/survivor (bloody cliches).  It was, as always, really nice to see her.  She's an inspiration in lots of ways.  The most positive being nothing to do with her boobs (see above) but rather is her fabulous attitude towards life.  She's lost 2 children to cancer and had a mastectomy 5 years ago.  She needs more surgery which may just be her implant moving around BUT could conceivably be a recurrence of cancer.  Her only grandchild lives abroad so she doesn't get to see her often.  Her surviving child had a bad accident only a month or so ago.  She's bubbly, positive, outgoing and completely bloody fabulous and amazing.  Just looking at her makes me feel good. 

I AM worried about the pain in my boob.  It's all over rather than just in the area of the lump as well as being in my armpit.  I haven't massaged it since chemo started though because the smell of the Bio Oil makes me feel sick, so I must try hard to get over that and restart.  But as with K's fears, it could be cancer again.  Her example though has made me realise that I'm just going to have to get on with it until my next appointment in a week and a half.  I'm NOT going to anticipate this appointment because it's the day before my 2nd batch of chemo and THAT is nothing to look forward to. 

R is away for a couple of days so I'm amusing myself which as always isn't an issue.  I went to my favourite cafe today and sat and did some coursework marking.  Nice to be able to do it without the pressure of deadlines but really bloody irritating that I can't get at the lazy little gits who haven't done their best and have got crap marks. 

I also need to go shopping for a wig.  My NHS wig voucher came through.  I'm in  2 minds about it though.  I don't want to look as if I've got fake hair but every time I've tried a scarf on, I look like a twat.  Maybe the complimentary therapy people at chemo next time can help with styling it.  Ideally, I'll go bald but every time I think of it, Miss R's comment from a year ago pops into my head; 'fat, old AND bald'.