Wednesday, 8 September 2010

Scary or What?

Thought I'd give you an honest picture of your blogger. Good Lord in Heaven Above or a similar extreme thing to say. What on earth do I look like? Is this really me? Really, what DO I look like? It seems odd to worry about vanity when there's nurses running around trying to decide if I need a blood transfusion or something more serious and all I seem to care about is quite HOW middle aged and ordinary I look. A coping mechanism some would say or just plain old 'what was wrong with my old look'? I know, no-one else saw it as particularly fabulous, but I liked the way I used to look!

Anyway, come along and join the week with me. Monday lunchtime I had a French lesson (this happens almost weekly so I should be (ef)fluent by oh, Christmas 2018. Not my teacher's fault, she's fab, but I can barely speak English so how I think I'll ever be able to speak French is one of life's many mysteries.

Later that afternoon I had an echocardiogram. This requires a visit to our local hospital's heart unit, amusingly placed up a heart attack inducing climb to the third floor. All is good, it's 2% up on my last visit in June (2% of what I really can't remember, but up, I know, is good). I texted the Absent Bloke (Shanghai; he just gets more exotic with each trip) who brilliantly sent me a birthday card with the words 'You're Still Alive!' on the front last month.

Anyway, back to the text; "Am still alive. 2% up on last visit :) Dr E said "with God's blessing I'll see you in 3 months" which freaked me out mildly. Guess he's thinking the cancer'll get me before I have a heart attack." AB responded "He doesn't realise you'll probably have killed me before that happens". I'll leave you to work out how or why I might do that :) Then he asked how the dog was.

Have just been told my haemoglobin is 10.7 so no need for a blood transfusion, which frankly, is a bit disappointing. I was hoping for a 'shot in the arm' (or portocath) solution rather than a 'take it easy, you're doing too much' solution.

Over the weekend, 'bahtocancer' invited readers to write a guest blog. I accepted the invitation and bah accepted my blog. I was very proud to see li'l ole me published elsewhere on this vast network thingy. I feel very grown up (and had to be much more responsible in my spell/grammar checks!). Many thanks to 'bahtocancer' for including me. Hope you enjoy reading it! (you might have to scroll down a bit).

Today, as you may have gathered, I've spent the morning in the clinic and will be off home as soon as I've finished this blog and taking the nurse's advice and getting some rest in. 'Specially if I've got to walk 8 km on Saturday night/Sunday morning without the aid of anyone else's haemoglobins.

For those of you with compassion fatigue, look away now. Anyone with a spare couple of quid, Dorothy House would love it and I'll walk through the early hours of Sunday to earn it. My site's here. Ignore the target; like rules, it's made for breaking! Thanks all. G'night!

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