Monthly Archives: August 2015


OMG where on earth did I put my hairbrush 2 years ago? My curls seem to be growing out…and I have been loving my curls…no hair brushing…no styling…no nothing…

I suppose this should feel like a good thing. After all, a lengthy dose of chemotherapy and losing all my locks in order to acquire the longed-for curls is quite an extreme way to go. However it did feel like a wonderful gift when my hair finally did come back and it was so different and quirky. I fancy neither more chemotherapy nor a perm…and I can’t think of any other options so maybe I should just be satisfied that I now have hair, it’s not grey and it is growing fast and furious. But where is that damned hairbrush?


Out of sight

…so whilst pottering and titivating (my new pastime)…I received a phone call from the Eye Hospital. Back in January I had an appointment where retinal photos were taken and I was told that an appointment to discuss with the doctor would be arranged. At the time I remember thinking that it was a not so subtle way of reducing their waiting list, as leaving human contact in the hospital without an appointment is very dangerous, trying to contact the Eye Hospital by phone is not for the faint hearted.

Anyway a very nervous doctor (possibly only started on 1 August) started his call by saying that he had been trying to contact me all week….really? He needed me to come in to clinic “tomorrow” and so we arranged it…then he rang to change the time…then rang again to change it again…so the “right” doctor can see me…So, my phone is obviously working.

…and what can I expect from this hastily arranged appointment…

  • that someone has only just looked at January’s photos and there is something wrong
  • that someone has realised I hadn’t been sent a follow-up appointment so was trying to fit me into a cancellation
  • or perhaps this is how appointments are now managed

All in all rather odd (good job I am still taking the tablets) but I will go and sit and wait (part of the Eye Hospital experience) and “see” what happens  whilst I also wait for confirmation of herceptin treatment on Monday. Reality is that I am more worried about the fact that I am being so compliant rather than what they might tell me, non-compliance seems to be my new modus operandi!

Playing house

It is an odd experience setting up home…and doing it my own way. The cats have been “treated” to the world’s most expensive cat-flap, which has required replacing a large double glazed door, carving out a hole for the “specially designed slimline fitting”! I was reassured that slimline refers to the cat-flap not the size of cat, or we may have had a problem. They have not been very keen to check out the new investment and can sit and wait for hours so that I can provide them with a full personal door opening service…but I have heard them trotting in and out and night time, so they can use it.

I have not attempted power tools of any sort nor have I even dipped my toe in the choppy waters of decorating, telephony, IT not even banging nails into the wall. It’s best that way. Instead am playing to my genetic strengths of shopping and catering…every day a new opportunity – on-line, in the High Street, out of town, mail order, new recipe books to discover, new dishes to try..I hold the whip hand as I try hard…really hard…to slough off terminal anxiety (which is another core part of my ethnic identity) from the list…

Need to slot back into the medical world next week…I am trying to keep it in a shrink-wrapped compartment but it will keep seeping out. Still, seeping has to be better than full-on assault.

Knock yourself out

In a frenzy to “nest” in my new space…I have comprehensively mastered the art of head in the clouds. Each time I go into my understairs cupboard I bang my head on the low entrance and…again, on exiting. It is a regular Aladdin’s storage cave which requires constant visiting in order to weigh up storage solutions, then fit them and then organise and re-organise…

As a result of this irritating amnesia I am becoming the cat’s pyjamas in the world of phrenology, including my newly lumpen eyebrows. Of course, in my cup half full moments, I see the injuries as self-improving – my own particular route to highbrow status. Added to the remains of my facial injury and subsequent face is developing a unique and evolving pained expression!

What with this and being in flat pack Swedish Nirvana Armageddon…. my life is transformed..

Rosie the Riveter…the Oxford version

You might have thought that I would be knee deep in boxes and wondering where to put things… However, instead I am exploring previously unknown foodie websites and discovering ingredients and kitchen equipment that looks pretty essential for my new home…

At the top of (yet another) wishlist are: a risotto paddle (how have I ever dared to make risotto without one of these?); a universal food baller and, the piece de resistance – a vegetable sculpture knife set (and possibly a course to go with it!). Then on the spice front – who could resist Virgin Islands Spiced Salt, Australian Murray River Salt, hot mole paste, liquorice powder….and I could go on…

Herceptin given in my own home too…and multiple hospital letters delivered to my new address as it looks like I am in business

Meantime back at the coal face I am amazed that I have managed to construct some flat pack furniture…it was slow but the miracle is that I took my time and was patient, not one of the qualities I am known for. Even better than the sense of achievement I felt…the furniture is still standing! As if that wasn’t enough I have also fitted a wireless doorbell, all on my own. Laugh if you like but neither of these tasks are anything I would have had any confidence in doing myself before last week.

..and, oh yes..I have won a prize from the Delia Smith website

strong woman

…and ain’t that the truth…