D-Day

Not really a big surprise to find me up and writing at 5am today, is it?  I did not wake until a whole hour after my usual 3am so that was a plus.  And I slept relatively well up till then.  But my mind, if not my body, has decided that this sleep thing is over rated.  I can now be found in our somewhat drafty sitting room which I have barricaded against Storm Jake as much as possible: tea towels are stopping the gaps between the building work and where I am sitting and the fire is on full blaze.  Remember my chair?  Under Physio Extraordinaire’s instruction, the Captain has raised the height and the cushions have been adapted to accommodate my Amazonian stature.  This is now so unbelievably comfortable I may never leave it.  It is entirely possible that you will find me in ten years time, riddled with pressure sores and smelling of fish paste but I promise you, I will still not want to get up.  And nor would you if you had been sitting on the equivalent of dolls’ house furniture for all of your adult life.

This whole chair thing came about because of my recent encounter with the Emergency Services.  Dealing with breast cancer simply was not complicated enough.  I just had to spice it up with slipping a disc too.  Since then, I have been working on getting match fit in time for surgery.  My list of exercises has been pawed over, read and re-read and carried with me everywhere.  Given my aversion to exercise in general, what is more surprising is that I have actually been doing them too.  From past experience (accident 2010 leading to two years of ill-health, 5 operations & chronic neuralgia) I know that my back is likely to suffer from the enforced rest coming my way so I have to do my utmost to get it fit.  It is still stiff and sore but oh so much improved.

So onto today.  I begin at 8am with a wee trip to my GP.  I have yet to see her re the whole cancer malarkey but I am now thinking she may be feeling left out.  After all, the rest of the medical establishment has had free access to my once (now less so) magnificent bosom for some time.  Come to think of it, most of my corner of England seem to have copped a feel in the last fortnight.  Given that my left breast at least, is now a limited edition, I feel it only fair to give her the opportunity.  Plus, apparently I am now entitled to free prescriptions.  Who said cancer does not have its upsides, hmm?

Then, of course, it is off to the All Singing All Dancing (here’s hoping it’s not pink) Breast Unit for what I sincerely hope will be a day of decision making and plan formulation.  Surely that is not too much to ask?  If I do not come out with a plan, I may be heading to the Captain’s shed because his bandsaw is starting to look awfully attractive.