Thanks to MMM I now have the most splendiferous project to occupy myself.
The search is on for “The Many Hats of Mrs Mort” and my pet photographer will be helping me to post pictures as and when.
How weird will my headgear get before the boss of “Old People ‘r’ Us” sends me home? You’ll have to wait and see.
Today was “C” day, as in the results of my operation and the plan of campaign.
In short, the cancer has not spread into any of the surrounding tissue or the lymph nodes, so it looks as if I’ll be hanging around for a good while longer.
On the down side, I am to be treated to not only radiotherapy but chemotherapy too. BOGOF! My well intentioned cancer nurse (yes, I have one of my very own) has told me that after this next 8 months of treatment is over, I will be very proud of myself! Actually, this wasn’t too much of a consolation, as there are much better ways of improving my self esteem than losing all my hair and feeling constantly nauseous.
However. I am now in the market for novelty bonnets and piratical headgear of all kinds.
Onwards and upwards.
I am currently losing track of the days, largely because I am notionally on two weeks annual leave, and as I don’t have to write the date 5 million times a day have no point of reference. I am thus driving the family crazy by repeatedly asking “what day is it?” or “is it Wednesday?”.
Early this morning all became clear. Due to the heat, the dog and the current situation I am having trouble sleeping, despite the 300mg of Tramadol I fling down my throat. When I wake I get up, curse the birds, let the dog out then watch in despair as he disappears up the stairs instead of into the garden, empty and reload the washing machine, empty and reload the dishwasher, peg out the washing (weather permitting), change the dog’s water, make tea and take a drink up to the rest of the Morts. By then it’s 7am so I climb back into bed to drink my own tea and wait for everyone else to wake up.
This morning, I was just relaxing back with my eyes closed when I heard a familiar sound in the street. The thought shot through my brain “it’s Thursday and I haven’t put out the recycling and they’re 3 hours early!”.
So, despite bad back and scabby boob, I shot out of bed again and galumphed down the stairs. The recycling wagon had already gone by so I paddled out to the road in bare feet and hailed them in ladylike tones “oy, am I too late?” The nice recycling man resisted the God given opportunity to reply “No, missus, just jump up on the cart”. Instead, like a true gent he came back, collected all my rubbish from the house and carried it away.
After that, I thought I might as well get up.
So, that is how I know that today is Thursday.