Crikey – I think here in the UK we’re all hanging on for those this evening! In, out, shake it all about – that’s how we do the hokus pokus. Goodness knows, I’m as dizzy as a Lizzy, what with all those handbrake turns. Those Spandex must be chock full of – emissions. Ahem.
Little bit of politics there; on a Tuesday (is it Tuesday? Who am I? Where do I live??)
All good fun at Chicken HQ. I say ‘fun’ – because it is! I do not know one day to the next what the 12-15-8-3 waking hours are going to hold.
One thing is clear: sleep – as in, that stuff I used to get (luckily), for 8+ hours per night = GONE. Predictably rare nightmare that I am coming to be with this lark, after chemo #1, back in September, I got a kidney and liver infection (I did ask re: the latter! – Not guilty! – Phew!) At the time, lots of old rubbish was going on; I was sorting out the Captain’s last hurrah (went well – I didn’t go, due to known irritants and their obstruction of the basic process – plus I was hosting a visiting relative (great fun! Nice and very funny bloke!) – BUT – it was all, in retrospect, just too much to handle all at the same time, soon after chemo. Anyway, my bit of the Captain is in the garage, next to the wine rack, until I put him on top of Mum; in both cases, it’s what he would have wanted 🙄
Anyway – due to the infections, the steroids got upped – and the sleep went down.
What do we all do between 1am-5am each day?? (Boys: don’t answer).
People have recommended Horlicks, Ovaltine, meditation, listening to ‘In our time’ or ‘Poetry please’ (or, as Jack Dee once said, ‘Poetry no thank you’). No good my friends! No! My brain lights up like a bloody Christmas tree – I’m contributing to the National Grid with mere thoughts about life, the universe – and even though the answer is 42 (ask your parents, kids) – it doesn’t help.
There is absolutely NOTHING I can do about it. But; think of it like this. It lasts for but ten days. Ten out of 21 ain’t too shabby. A lot of people have their heads down the lavatoire for longer than that, every cycle. Currently, I do not.
However – and you have to get ready for a bit of genuinely curious stuff here, my friends.
Most of my friends now know that I have Stage IV, terminal lung cancer. This is far easier on the patient, than the recipient of the news – trust me on this.
When you first get diagnosed with cancer (and you can check back to my blog on this, back in 2017), people, first of all, want to know, ‘of the what’.
That’s natural; we then do a self-scan, we think to ourselves (even for the non-causitive ones) – ‘Well, I don’t do x, y, z – I don’t live my life like a, b. c – I’m ok). That’s all Maslow – survival is our basic human need.
What is extremely interesting this time is – knowing I have a terminal situation – WHY is the first question:
‘How long have you got?’
I can laugh away (and I do – it has become hilarious to me now, and I do feel guilty) because I can see the lips forming into the H.. I can see the hesitation, yet burning desire to know.
I suppose what I want to know is:
- Why do you want to know?
- Why do you think it is OK to ask me, if you are not my daughter, my husband or my bestie?
I mean, if anyone can help here, I would be genuinely grateful. I’m not arsey about it – just super curious!
Any road up, it’s cheeeeeeeemo time again on Thursday – yeehah! I am absolutely thrilled about this, because, due to those bloody infections, I was not allowed to have the immunotherapy last time. This annoyed me A LOT. I have focused intensely on diet and exercise the last 20 days (even while awake all night!); my bloods, tested this morning, mean I am ready for the full whack (obvs I asked for extra on top = denied); I am good to go, in super fit form, ready to take it on and smash it out the park.
Soooo! Quite happy, skippy, jumpy – especially as I have my Disco Daze playlist on – the thoughtful gift of my SOON-ISH TO BE SON-IN-LAW, Mr T H. Who, through my mini carer, has made me the happiest woman on the planet. Not to mention how loved up and gorgeous she (rightly) feels – woaahh! The light in her eyes and her whole being: the most gorgeous thing I have ever set eyes on, since the day she was born. Nice work Mr H. The T points are so far off the scale I am going to have to donate my lungs to you – bahahahahah!!!
I’ll find my funny bone again, I promise.
But, in the interim, to save both our blushes; the answer is, I have not asked. I have no need to know. The information is not useful to me; plus, I’m a glass half full kind of a girl (woe betide you if you leave me half empty – I’ll smash your bloody face in!). So, rather than count down, I count up. I love every day, and I look forward. To everything.
You’d be a very Dizzy Lizzy not to, wouldn’t you?
See you soon chickettes x
Who's going to get the chicken? 