It has been pointed out to me that I am 'odd'. I know, I was 'odd' before TDIFOCWC. But talking with a friend last night made me realise I need to rein-in my 'oddness'. Just a little. I am not going to change my core glib-irreverent-taking the piss self too much, but I am going to be less 'odd' when dealing with some people. Because not everyone is ok with cancer.
I have already said I get some kind of satisfaction out of telling people I have cancer...I am up-front and honest and not at all full-of-dread. I am examining this behaviour. I am sure I unconsiously get a kick out of it...just as I did dying my hair blue, getting my nose pierced and and wearing rubber dresses (a long time ago,I might add...my obvious newfound 'affluent' status which is why-I-have-breast cancer inhibits such behaviour from here on in). I like to provoke in my real life and always have. Don't get me wrong, I am ultra polite and you can take me to meet your mother and I won't offend, but I like a good argument for argument's sake...do not confuse my 'oddness' for not giving as arse about social norms. I care. A lot.
Anyway, what I am trying to say is the all-new cancer-stricken plaingoldband has learnt a valuable life lesson lately. Think about your audience, woman. Not everyone is ok with having cancer and your cancer jokes have their time and place. And this place is not the RB Cancer Suite...
Believe me, I haven't screwed up yet...raised some eyebrows maybe (if they haven't come off due to chemotherapy)...but I have done nothing more yet than mildly 'shock' and provoke the now statutory "well you have a positive attitude and that is good..." line.
Let me enlighten you with my knowledge of chemotherapy thus far:
It's not so bad.
Well, it's not something I am glad I am having...but it's not as bad as I originally envisaged.
Not everyone is really poorly and has to take to their beds for 6 months. The days of constant sickness, nausea and permanent intravenous antibiotic drips are long gone. Chemotherapy has gone all modern and user-friendly.
These are the general side effects. Next to them, in brackets, is what you do to 'prevent' them:
- Nausea and vomiting (you start taking very effective anti-sickness pills before you start your cycles to effectively prevent it from occuring at all)
- Fatigue (sleep...as much as you feel you need to)
- Hair loss (ice cap...wigs-on-the-NHS or perhaps, if you are very lucky, it doesn't even happen at all)
- Infections due to the crushing of the white blood cells (constant monitoring, 24 hour oncologist on call and, of course, my 'don't leave home without it' credit card-sized medical alert card
- Mouth ulcers (very effective antibiotic mouth wash)
- Gritty eyes due to loss of eyelashes (eyedrops)
See, a problem arises and there is a solution. I see cancer like that...it's a problem, let's work on the solution.
Now, I am very aware that the cocktail of drugs (FYI flourouracil, epirubicin and cyclophosphomide, known as FEC) can easily be compared to Domestos (because it kills all know things...dead), but I am not shaking in fear at the thought of being bleached from the inside out. I know there are going to bad days...days when I feel shit and wish I was um, dead. But I am hoping that there will be days when I feel OK and can be 'normal'....well 'normal' in a plaingoldband-odd way.
In fact, there is a little bit of me that is positively 'excited' by all of this (as I said...'odd'). Again, not in the normal sense of the word but in a 'well come on then, bring it on and let's get started' way. It's going to be a challenge. It's going to be hard-going and a bit grim sometimes...but whether I want it or not, it's going to happen (generally, there are only two things definate in this life: birth and death. If I wish to cheat the latter, chemo makes it three things)*.
Hey, how many chemo patients does it take to change a light bulb? None: they're too weak to climb the ladder....
* I do not include taxes in this line. Taxes can be avoided, just ask Lord Ashcroft....
You're not 'odd' - you are you. One thing I've learned since hearing your news is that your reaction to this is perfectly normal. People generally don't weep and wail - what would be the point? They just get on with it in whatever way they can. When my mum was told she had stomach cancer and only a matter of days to live (luckily they were wrong and she's still with us 13 years later) the first thing she did was to drive to the Gap and buy her baby grandson a new outfit to wear to her funeral! You are a very articulate woman and your natural reaction is to talk about it - to anyone who'll listen (including the young salesman in the vodafone shop!) and you have a truly wicked sense of humour. Don't try to change, we love you as you are :)
ReplyDeleteAwww stop it. I have already agreed to give you my Mulberry handbags when I die so stop suckin' up, woman.
ReplyDeleteIf you are " Odd " then I'm certifiable .
ReplyDeleteThe thought of Chemotherapy did not frighten me,I knew it was going to help me, and in my case I was an in-patient and on chemo for 5 straight days at a time, 4 of which was 24 hours a day.I too found it an exciting time and learned a lot about myself.
.................. oh, and at 6ft 4in I didn't need a ladder to change the light bulb. ;)
You stay the way you are I think your attitude is amazing.