Massively.
To be honest I don’t know how I’m still married.
Feeling fabulous one minute then smashing anything I can get my hands on, all happening within 12-24hours a part, seriously. Absolutely crazy and irrational, some days I cried at the thought of even getting out of bed, I didn’t want to see anyone or do anything, which is not me at all, in fact, if I actually went to work and earnt some money I would have happily have checked into a hotel for a few days/weeks. My kind of behaviour is very selfish, poor Arron, he works so hard and stupidly long hours and on top of that he is doing a masters in Law.
It’s nothing I can put my finger on, just how I feel, and it’s hard to talk about becuase my cancer train is long gone, apparently. People are now bored of hearing it. It’s been years, I should be grateful, I’m lucky.
Any who, as lucky as I am, I think it might be down to the biopsy I had taken recently, and my jaw continuing to crumble through my gum preventing me from having the bone injection for my “bone mets”, (the saga continues), my kidney function plummeting to 55 and wondering what joy dialysis will bring me, seeing a registrar for the first time in clinic and hearing her say over and over that I do have bone mets doesn’t do anything for your mental well being. That teamed with the ever looming 6 monthly CT scan, and having not had the bone injection for 10 months now, if it is mets then it will be spreading everywhere by now, so I did the only logic and sensible thing.
I cancelled my CT scan.
Then earlier this week I was feeling ok. So I decided to re book, rational me knows that I’m delaying the inevitable, I’m going to have to have the scan at some point. If it has spread then surely it’s better to know sooner rather than later? Or is it? Who knows.
Then I remind myself that these 6 monthly scans haven’t changed at all in 5 years.... and I think about the lovely bone biopsy I had that came back clear, and the surgeon who told me on the phone was very clear in telling me that, so I was on a high for a few weeks, then I went back to the orthopaedic hospital for the check up on the wound, and saw a different surgeon to the one that phoned me.
He wasnt as convinced with the lab results. He said it was like having a bag full of oranges and one lemon, it’s likely that you’ll pick the orange, it doesn’t mean that the lemon isn’t there....
This is your life.
I’m trying, I mean I’m really trying, but inside I’m screaming.
Am I bipolar? Or is it a combination of the many side effects of some of my daily medication?
Is it any wonder I like the odd glass of champagne.
Get me to that swim up bar.
