A GREAT DAY: LAST WEEK I GOT MY HAIR CUT!!

On Tuesday evening last week I left work and, for the first time in months, headed for the hair salon where lovely Becky sees to my hair. Why was this a red letter day? Why was I celebrating? Because I had not seen her since just before I started chemotherapy. Because for seven long months there has not been enough hair to cut. Because this was a milestone.

Six and a half months ago, on the 15th August to be precise, I started chemotherapy. Clearly, hair loss was one of the side effects that was discussed. I have talked in previous posts about how it affected me, and about the delights (not!) of the ice cap. Some people choose to shave their heads early in the process. That is what Michael, the wig person (see previous post), told me to do. I decided I was sticking with my own hair for as long as I could get away with it, grey hairs and all. However, I bought the wig, a number of hats and scarves, in order to be prepared. None of them has ever been used.

I am not sure whether it was inverted vanity, lack of caring, or the fact that I really did keep a lot of hair, but I never covered it up. There was always enough that it could pass for very wispy hair and, despite not being me at all, I decided that was enough. Added to that, of course, I wasn't going out very much, but even when I did, there was a certain pride in having my own, albeit depleted and horribly out of condition, hair.

Chemotherapy over, I expected it to grow back immediately. HUH, is all I can say. Weeks later, there were still wispy strands all over my head. However, two weeks ago, when combing said wispy locks, I noticed how long they had grown. Investigating further, there appeared to be a substantial crop of tiny hairs beginning to grow underneath. I hesitated, cogitated, ruminated. Then I rang and booked an appointment.

And it worked. Becky was wonderful, telling me she was amazed at how much hair I had and that I should be back to a full head of hair in a couple of months. When she had finished, she brought the mirror for me to see the back of my head. I could hardly believe it. It was certainly very short, but hair there was, all over my head. I was thrilled.

And now? Well, I think it looks rather good, and I have had lots of compliments, so I am delighted with the result. I am also delighted with the fact that it is apparently growing back largely in my original colour. We shall see. In any case, I do not appear to have turned into a blonde!

Molly sends her love.

Today, I went to work in Slippers

Now, I never thought I would write that. It is, however, true. I may have mentioned that I have hurt my right foot. I'm not sure what I've done to it and, yes, I do know that I ought to see a doctor and get it sorted out, but, hey, I've got other things to do and it hasn't gone blue yet.

The pain comes and goes, and is largely manageable with a combination of Ibuprofen and Paracetomol. Until yesterday, there was one pair of shoes that I was able to squeeze into, albeit with some discomfort. Last night, however, I noticed a small lump/pimple/protuberance on the side of my foot. Hmm!

This morning, it was still there. It was no worse, it was no more painful, but it was there. 'Never mind' I thought, 'if it is infective, it should now start to get better'. I got dressed, prepared for work, sorted out my handbag, packed my lunch, all with my slippers on. Came the moment to change into shoes. My foot had other ideas.

Faced with a foot that resolutely refused to be squeezed into the shoe, I faced a dilemma. I could hobble perfectly well in slippers, but I could not move in a shoe. What to do? The only choices seemed to be me in slippers or no me at all. It seemed to me a no-brainer. I had back to back meetings. I gathered my stuff, said goodbye to Molly Cat and set off for work in my slippers.

I was surprised to discover that driving in slippers is really quite uncomfortable. They are too thin and do not give you enough purchase. However, I got there without mishap. Feeling very self-conscious, I headed for the door, and was joined by a colleague and friend. I immediately explained that I did not normally come to work in slippers. She said she would not have noticed and enquired further. Understanding that I was not sure if there was a broken bone there (it has been going on for over a week) and that I could not get into shoes, she was outraged. Why was I there, she demanded? Had I learned nothing? Why was I not looking after myself? I pleaded meetings, feeling rather foolish, and followed her into the building.

Our new offices are lovely, but they are open plan and I do not warrant my own desk, so I have to hot desk. I was looking for a suitable place to perch when the aforementioned colleague and friend called me over:
 "Come and sit next to me" she said.
"But that's not a Hot Desk" I replied.
"No, but she won't be in. You might as well".
I acquiesced, and walked across, enquiring as to the reason for our absent colleague. There was a rather smug look on her face as my friend and colleague replied:
"She has a broken bone in her foot. She's been signed off for four weeks to make sure she rests it properly".

Ouch. Well, I'm resting it in the evenings! And I will go to the doctor if it's no better by the weekend. Probably.

Computer Problems

This morning, I woke to find that Molly had turned off the computer again. At least, I assume it was Molly. Otherwise, I have a poltergeist.  Fact: when I went to bed the computer was working properly. Fact: when I woke up and tried to log in to my emails on my iPad, there was no WiFi. Fact: I came through to the study and the main switch to all the computer gadgets was off. PLEASE SEE PREVIOUS POST - I AM NOT MAD.  I switched it on and returned to bed. The Wifi connected, but the internet did not. I decided to abandon it for an hour.

Later, bathed, breakfasted and calm, I returned to the study. The internet would not work. I turned things on and off (I am told this is what to do). I smiled at it. I swore at it. I closed everything down and woke it all up again. Still, the WiFi was, apparently, connected, but I could not get on to the internet. My calm was shattered. I was past irritation.

I stared at the Safari page trying to load my blog. It would not do it. In a whim (no more than that, honestly, I had no idea of what I was doing) I hit the Yahoo button at the top. The computer smiled and connected. There was grinding of teeth. Clearly, for some reason I wot not of, the blog website was blocking everything. I had no idea this could happen.

So, I am now back in business, but I do not understand what happened. There must be many more like me out there, struggling to understand why something that should be simple is not. Is there somewhere I can go to learn this stuff?

Molly Cat is Pleased to See Me

This week, I had to spend three nights away from home. I left here at 1200 on Monday, and did not get back until early evening yesterday. Naturally, I was deeply concerned about Molly. I spent hours agonising over whether the Cattery or intermittent home visits were to be preferred, and eventually plumped for staying at home. The logistics were awesomely complicated, involving teams of individuals coming and going. My cleaner came three times a day (7, 11 and 6), my PA dropped in, friends were coerced into visits. Nevertheless, she was alone each night.

I fretted. The first night I barely slept. Nightmare scenarios kept presenting themselves. Each time I started to fall asleep, I thought I could hear her wailing and jerked awake. I could hardly wait until it was time to text my cleaner. Molly, you will not be surprised to hear, was fine. I calmed down a bit. Anyway, work was so intense that I had no time to worry, and I was so exhausted that I did sleep after that. Daily texts and phone calls kept me apprised of her health and wellbeing. Everybody at the Centre I was attending knew all the details. Each morning I was greeted with "How's Molly?" from a number of different people.

Yesterday, I came home. I was extremely fortunate, in that they let me go a little early (people are so KIND - they kept checking if I was alright - and it was nothing to do with Molly), so I arrived home soon after five. I turned the key in the lock and eased the door open, dragging case and handbag behind me. As I stepped into the hallway, there was Molly not, as usual, in her hammock, but standing in the middle of the hall. She stared at me. Did I discern a moment of disbelief? (Of course not - poetic/author/blogger licence). Then I was through the door and it was safely closed behind me. I reached for her. To my amazement, she let me pick her up. We had a lovely cuddle for at least five minutes. This is very unusual.

The evening was strange and lovely and comforting. She was clearly unsettled and rather miffed. However, she would not let me out of her sight. She wandered round me, her eyes fixed on me, but would only rarely get close enough for me to pet her, and that usually turned into her biting/scratching me. We repaired to bed early, very early. I watched a little television. She circled me, sometimes coming in to be stroked. She brought toys. We played. Eventually, I switched off the light and snuggled down to sleep. This is normally the time when she disappears to any one of the many sleeping places she has. Not last night. As soon as I was settled, she came and lay on my feet, and she did not move all night.

And today? She has barely let me out of her sight. Bless her. I think she missed me. She certainly wants to be part of this blog!!

I'm Bored of being Ill

I got cancer. Back in June 2013, I faced the diagnosis and decided I could cope. The surgery was scary, but soon over. The chemotherapy was hard, but there was a sense of achievement at not succumbing to it. I may have felt like an exhausted pin cushion, but I was still standing and laughing. It took a rather disappointing length of time to recover from that, and I was much more tired over Christmas than I expected, but I was still able to entertain others and to enjoy myself. I was pleased with the meals I served up. Came 2014, and I started radiotherapy:  a doddle by comparison, but still very tiring.  Nevertheless, there was comfort in seeing the radiotherapist every day. Then it was over.

Suddenly, I was on my own. There are still appointments to go to, but they are few and far between. 'Let us know if anything worries you' they said. And they sent me home, and back to work. So I grinned, gritted my teeth, and went back to work. And promptly fell ill. Where I had carefully protected myself from infection throughout the last four months, suddenly I was prey to every germ going. Rapidly, I developed a minor sore throat: nothing that would normally have bothered me. The cold that followed can only be described as minor in the extreme. It wiped me out. I spent three days almost unable to get out of bed. Three weeks later, I am still coughing and sneezing. Huh!

Then there are the muscle pains. At least, I assume that is what they are. My entire right side hurts; every muscle is sore; my leg aches. And now I have hurt my foot. Don't ask - it's a boring story. Suffice it to say that the foot feels as if it has gone through a mangle. I hobble about, feeling rather sorry for myself. Everything feels like rather too much trouble.

So, I'm sorry, but I'm bored of being ill. I want to get back to normal. I want to be able to do the things I did before. But, as I was told as a child, I want doesn't get. So, I try to possess my soul in patience and pray for acceptance. In the meantime, I'm dieting, and trying to exercise, and re-learning how to use make-up, and planning a party, and planning holidays. Oh no, I'm not giving up yet. Did you think I would? Surely not? What would Molly say?

Why Does My Cat Hide Behind My Computer?

Molly Cat is a character. She does what she likes, when she likes. She seems to think that my hands are a mix of scratching posts and biting points. I am sore! However, she has recently developed another quirk: she likes to disappear behind my computer screen, curl up there and snore loudly. I continue working. She does not bother me - until she stops snoring. 'Why?' I ask myself 'has she stopped snoring? Is she alright? Is she still breathing?'

Yes, I know, I'm pathetic, but do remember that I am a first time parent. Yesterday, I found myself poking her to make sure she was still alive. She was most disgruntled - and I felt totally ridiculous. But the question remains: why does she disappear behind my computer screen? It is a small space, there is nothing there except mess, e.g. BluTack, staples, CDs, post-it notes etc, and she is all but invisible. Is that the attraction? Does she like being in hiding?

I do not know. all I can tell you is that she is currently curled up on my extremely expensive computer bag looking very comfortable and totally inscrutable. I wish she would learn to speak human!

'Night All

I Missed Molly Last Night

Today, I had to be at a meeting in Edinburgh.  This necessitated travelling to Edinburgh yesterday, since it was impossible to do it from home all in one day. Edinburgh is such a beautiful city, but it loses some of its charm when you arrive in the dark, after 8.30p.m., tired and deeply regretting having left home at all, as you nurse a cold.

I stayed at the conference hotel. The lobby was spacious and the receptionist welcoming. I started to feel a little better. The room, however, was no more than adequate, and my low mood was not lifted by the dingy lights and the rather uncomfortable chairs. However, a glass of wine soon put things in a more cheerful light. I watched a little television (not that there was anything interesting on - I ended up watching endless re-runs of the news) then went to bed.

Now, clearly, I had not brought Molly Cat with me. When I left home, she was curled up on the sofa in the study. I had fed her, and made arrangements for somebody to go in this morning to feed her again. She would be fine, I told myself. Huh! I tossed and turned through the night. Every hour or so I woke up, dreaming that I could hear her crying. I had visions of her entangled in her toys. Why had I not put them all away? I thought of her choking on a large piece of food. Had I mashed it enough? You get the idea. I was wide awake at 6, unable to sleep again. At 7.30, I texted the person who had promised to go in to feed her at 7.

Answer came there none. I panicked. What to do? Who could I call? With difficulty I calmed myself, told myself I was being ridiculous. I waited till 8.30, then rang. There was no reply. The panic, this time, was all-consuming. With great difficulty I restrained myself from rushing to Waverley station. The most likely explanation was that she had left her phone at home, a not uncommon occurrence.

A text finally came in at 9.30. Molly was fine. Playing with her toys. Relief washed over me, although I rather think that the promise to be there by seven had not been kept. Now I am on my way home and will be with her soon. But I clearly have a problem: I may never be able to have a holiday again! Molly, what have you done to me?!