3rd February 2008

I’m going back for a breast check up because I seem to pull a muscle each time I reach up to open or close the velux window in my bathroom.  I’ll never make a climber, that’s for sure.  The breast reconstruction seems to be tightening up and my underarm is sore.  It feels lumpy too and I think it’s due to scar tissue misbehaving.  I was at the hospital recently for a psychiatric appointment too, they offered me one back in September but I never received it because they sent their correspondence to an old address.  I decided to take up the offer to talk about stuff; the service is there and I thought it might do me some good to get things off my breast. 

I bought a cup of tea off a kind man in a wig and sat reading old magazines in the waiting room.  I listened with one ear to a lady telling anyone who would give her eye contact that she had lost her husband last year, her daughter had just suffered a stroke at the age of 40, gone blind and has had her legs broken for some reason to do with paralysis.  The lady also said she herself needed 13 operations including new hips, knees and hands….new hands???  I’m sure that’s what she said.  She’d also had a hysterectomy to remove a cancerous tumour.  I thought there should be a health warning in the room saying, ‘Warning! – Waiting here could seriously damage your health!’ because I was thoroughly depressed by the time they called out my name.  I was also wondering whether I should be there at all with my comparatively small list of complaints until I saw the handsome young doctor.

The handsome young doctor knew all about me and the unlucky events of my past.  After he’d assessed me he diagnosed me officially as “not tremendously depressed” and I was quite pleased by this.  They couldn’t offer me an appointment for any support in the near future because the member of staff who deals with breast cancer patients is on maternity leave and in true NHS style she has not been replaced so I’m still waiting.  Worryingly, I was also confused with my sister in law, Ali and I got the idea from what was said that some of my notes had found their way into Ali’s file or vice versa. 

The doctor offered me some happy pills but I refused them.  I don’t like taking pills and I don’t think I need them.  Taking Tamoxifen and Zoladex already worries me stupid.  The Zoladex injections have started to leave deep purple bruising on my stomach which is pretty ugly but I can cope with that; it’s the other possible side effects that worry me more.  Ali has just been diagnosed as having a thyroid problem, which is most likely a side effect of the chemotherapy and Tamoxifen.  It can make her feel tired and depressed at times.  I don’t want to go the same way so I regularly surf the internet for safe alternatives and new developments in treatment.  Frustratingly, there’s a lack of research into prevention or alternative treatments.

Ali and I gave a presentation about the trip this week to a rotary club.  I think they needed reassurance that we’re not totally mad before agreeing to help us raise funds.  Jeepers, I hate public speaking but for the first time in my life it didn’t make me hyperventilate or my face turn red!  What a breakthrough – I even found myself enjoying it.   We’re successfully recruiting more sponsors and I’m being loaned a practice bike by Granby Motors of Ilkeston.  I’m very excited about the bike as it even has heated handle grips!  Oh and it’s black.  We’re also busy organising a fundraising Boogie Nights Party at the Nottingham Boat Club for an alternative Valentine’s Party on 16th February and have had some great offers of support for this including 2 live bands, belly dancing and various prizes.  It should be fun.  Come and strut your stuff like Dirk Digalo!

I went to the Motorcycle News Show down in London this weekend and networked – I’ve just reread that sentence – because it struck me as surreal for a moment and it sounded a little pretentious!  I suppose I’ve been doing things that I never thought I would have the confidence to do before this cancer business.  I would really recommend having cancer if it was safe to so!  Anyway, some of the bike manufacturers were very interested in the trip and I renewed our links with Harley Davidson.  I smiled at their marketing man and asked him if their answer was definitely ‘no’ and he answered, “No”, so, that means there is still a chance of us riding Harleys around Europe! 

Insurance wise, we face a real challenge.  Insurance companies are not keen on insuring us through some of the countries we’re visiting in Eastern Europe but one company were very interested as their Marketing Manager was sympathetic to our cause.  It’s amazing and sad too that when you talk cancer, there are so many people who tell you they have been touched by the disease in some way.  I even spoke to a fellow survivor at Yamaha.  I also spoke to Charlie Boorman, he of ‘the Long Way Down’ fame with Ewan McGregor.  He was polite but trying to go home after a long day of signings and I could see this in his eyes as I explained red faced and hurriedly about our trip and asked him for tips.  “Don’t ride at night,”, he said, “take lots of photos and remember to enjoy it!”  Ok, I will, thank you Mr Boorman but I’m wishing I had your fame to help us find support and sponsorship.

And how’s the dating coming along?  Well, I turned into a serial dater for a while but my success rate was not good – I’m mostly a one date wonder.  My friend has even bought me Jane Austen’s: ‘Guide to Dating’ in an attempt to save me but I keep falling asleep on page 2.  I think I should also explain that when I said I was going to kiss all frogs in my last blog that I only meant it figuratively.  I do have morals you know!

I’m finding it really hard to keep up with serial dating, nursing, job hunting, (I qualify on 9th March as a nurse), my part time job and our fundraising trip around Europe.  Something has to give!!…. And I’m afraid it’s the dating so I’m hanging up my dating shoes for a while and devoting myself to something which brings me more satisfaction at the moment – Breast Quest 2008!

15th December 2007

I was out last night when my friend Jo introduced me to a lady who has just been diagnosed with breast cancer and will be having a mastectomy on January 2nd.  What a way to pass Christmas and start the new year…  Jo told the lady she was sure I’d talk to her if she needed to but the lady isn’t ready to talk to other cancer birds yet.  I remember not wanting to talk about it with other cancer people at first, you have to believe you have cancer first.  I still have moments of denial!

I received a message on MySpace recently from someone who has been writing to me ever since my diagnosis.  His messages usually make me laugh loudly but this time his message contained just 3 words: “Are you ok?”.  I didn’t know how to answer it without telling a huge white lie so I didn’t, sorry Robbie.  I used to live in France and over there it would be a different story.  If you ever asked a French person the same question you would still be there two days later listening to their health issues and by then you would know their blood pressure, iron levels, family history and bowel habits.  It’s so English to answer, “I’m fine, thanks” when someone asks how you are but the French are serious, unashamed and honest when it comes to their health.  I once remember a friend who was alarmed at seeing an emergency medical helicopter land nearby and seeing his neighbour air-ambulanced away.  We lived in the sticks and the neighbour had apparently suffered severe chest pains so they sent a helicopter out quick.  2 days later the friend was surprised to see the neighbour out working on his garden.  Concerned, he asked him how he was and the neighbour replied unembarrassed, “Ahhhh, c’est du gaz”.  (It was wind).

I’ll be ok but either the drugs are making me feel down, (hormone stuff), or it’s the time of year or maybe even a combination of the two because I don’t feel ok at the moment.  I wake up and wish I had my own family so I could make mince pies for them and have big family arguments over Christmas.  There must be a lot of people out there feeling a bit wobbly at Christmas.  Keep your chin up people, it’s only Christmas.  I’m ashamed to say I made my mum cry on the phone the other day.  She said she was choking on a tortilla chip and I believed her.  My brother told me later she’d been crying.  I feel guilty so about this.  I don’t really tell people when I’m feeling down, I just burden my poor mum.  I know it will come right.  It’s just part of the rollercoaster ride.

I’m looking forward to Christmas and having a rest though – putting my feet up and eating some non organic mince pies.  I’ve been getting out there training hard for my motor bike test in some pretty parky and miserable weather.  My good friend, Is, sent me some heat pads that I slip inside my gloves to stop my fingers dropping off.  My training progress is like playing golf; one day you think you’ve got it, the next, you think you’ll never master it.  Now don’t mention the U turns!!  Last time I reported, I had a puncture at 70 mph so I’ve been looking out for mechanical problems.  Sure enough, this time, I could smell burning as we set off from Derby for Nottingham.  I was just wondering if the bike might be about to explode in flames, (overactive imagination, Lou), when a voice over the intercom said, “Pull over Lou when you can.”  It turns out I had sprung a leak from the coolant liquid thingy so we had to turn around and take bike no. 1 back to Derby.  Setting off on bike no. 2, we were just nearing Nottingham, (our destination), when the other student got a puncture, (fortunately we were riding in slow traffic this time), so again we had to head back to Derby to fetch another bike.   I rode pillion back with the instructor, (bike no. 3), and gave the student my bike.  We finally set off for Nottingham again with me on bike no. 4 and arrived in time for the other student’s bike test.  Unfortunately, he put his foot down doing the U turn and failed.  It was like ground hog day.

Flipping U turns… the instructor says the U turn only features in the test to ‘up’ the failure rate. They are very difficult to do and I am having major problems mastering them.  My test is now imminent and my bowels are beginning to make strange noises.  On my last lesson, I finally mastered the tricky U turns on the flat road and the instructor decided to take me to practice on the road used in the test.  It has a camber on it and makes throttle control much more tricky.  I did 3 U turns, putting my foot down each time, (a fail in the test), and finally fell off the bike on the 4th in spectacular fashion trapping my leg underneath it.  I was worried I’d done something serious to myself at first but it was only the brake that was broken and not a part of my body.  It was a costly error though as I had to pay for the breakage.  At present I rate my chance of passing this test as… low.  The nerves are going to play a big part in it and I’m feeling under pressure to pass after all the training I’ve been given.  There was a lady at the school the other day buying doughnuts to celebrate passing – it was her seventh attempt.  Gulp.  We’re supposed to be setting off round Europe in April!  Got to pass, got to pass!…  Think 3 B’s: deep Breaths, Belief and Bowel control.   

1st December 2007

I swing between feeling incredibly lucky and amazed that we found my cancer so early and the anger and disbelief that I got cancer as a younger woman, especially as I’ve always been so health conscious.  I’m still having hot flushes but I hope they’ll stop soon.  If not I’ll be having them for the 2 years of the Zoladex treatment I’m having and I assume they’ll come back when I get the real menopause later in life!  I think some of the flushes may be caused by the Department of Work and Pensions though.  They have been bombarding me with various forms to fill in and recently a phone call telling me I needed to attend a health interview.  I informed them at the beginning of October and several times by phone and letter since that I’m not claiming any benefits as I’m in full time study.  However, there seems to be a huge communication problem between departments.  It would be laughable but some of these letters are quite threatening in nature and as I haven’t done anything wrong, (and I worked part-time throughout my treatment, receiving about £37 a month from them for a few months), I’m feeling a bit miffed about it all.  It was difficult financially during this time and I owe money to various people as a result.  Your letters rub salt into the wound DWP!

D day is coming…. I have booked a date for my motorbike test but I’m not saying when it is!  Ali’s lessons are still on hold whilst we find a solution to her leg length, (the search is on for a lower bike so she can plant her tiny feet safely on the ground whilst sitting on the bike).  My lessons were going well until last Saturday, when after only 30 minutes of riding and only 5 miles from our destination, the lesson ended abruptly.

Here’s what happened…  I had an early start from the Nottingham School to ride to the Derby School and pick up another learner.  Colin, (the instructor), and I set off at 8am and the cold hit me straight away, (despite my outdoors gear and thermal vest).  It was the coldest day we have had so far this winter.  My usual lucky no. 1 bike was not available and I didn’t feel comfortable as my porridge was still weighing heavy in my stomach.  Forgetting at first to put my visor all the way down, my eyes soon began to stream from the rush of cold air and my hands were numb after 10 minutes. 

We were nearing Derby, bombing along the A52 and doing 70mph when the usual black thoughts popped into my head; ‘Well, Lou you’re at the mercy of this bike.  I wonder what would happen now if there was some sort of mechanical failure – you’re bound to die you know…’  And just as I was about to overtake a line of cars and before my overactive mind could embellish my thinking with gory details, Colin spoke to me over the intercom: “Slow down, Lou, slow riiiiight down…”  Now, if you are going to have a scary experience on a motorbike, you would want Colin to be by your side.  He is very vigilant about your driving and is calm in a crisis, (he has already had to cope with Ali falling off the bike at a petrol station and traffic lights).  Despite his calmness, I could hear the concern in his voice as he said, “I think you have a puncture, your back tyre is going down.”  It was at this point that I began to notice something strange myself about the back tyre and the handling of the bike.

I’m not sure if I was thinking straight as I think I stopped breathing for a while but I decided to break very gently and move down the gears.  I could feel the bike was unstable.  As if by magic, a slip road appeared on our left and thankfully I was moving slowly enough to leave the dual carriageway by it.  We came to a halt around the corner by which time my back tyre was as flat as a pancake.  I was cold and spooked, the porridge was still undigested and starting to do a rumba in my stomach and I began to come over all queer!  Parking the bike safely, I climbed weakly off it and sat down on a wall but this didn’t help.  I was feeling faint and pretty nauseous by now.  Now, I have fainted many times during my life; I’m very good at it.  Apparently, I have low blood pressure which is very healthy on the whole but leaves you prone to the odd, embarrassing faint.

I know from experience that the only solution is to lie flat on my back at such times with my legs in the air.  I know this because I’ve ended up in casualty a couple of times by attempting to stay standing.  Once I even ‘came round’ in the arms of a Saint John’s ambulance man in a club, after a New Year’s kiss on tip toe with a devastatingly handsome young man ended in a faint!  When I came round, I was most disappointed to see the handsome young man had turned into a large, balding man in uniform asking me if I had been taking drugs which of course I hadn’t.  It was only the beer and my kissing gymnastics that stopped the blood from reaching my head temporarily and caused a faint. 

Anyway back to the story, there I was lying flat on my back on a pavement just outside of Derby, wearing my full motorbike gear and helmet, (looking like a small burnt match), with Colin holding my legs aloft in the air.  Apparently, some woman passer by thought I was dead.  Sorry, to have worried you lady, (and the other people who slowed down in their cars).  Finally, the blood returned to my head and my porridge settled.  When the Calvary arrived to look after the bikes, we were able to continue to Derby with me riding pillion on Colin’s bike.  I had several hot cups of tea at the school but was unable to continue the lesson as 2 other bikes were also off the road.  When my bike arrived later the tyre was pumped up and we inspected the puncture.  There was a large hole where the air was gushing out.  “How unlucky was that?!!” I asked Colin, peering at the hole.  “Actually Lou, you can consider yourself very lucky; nothing bad happened.”  I guess he is right but I can’t help feeling the grim reaper is somewhere over my shoulder!

All in all, the experience was a useful one to have had and ended with more good luck.  I was given a lift home by a guy who has offered us support with our riding and possibly his services as mechanic on our trip around Europe which is fantastic!  A raffle held by Choice Interiors this week also raised £1000 for our charities which is just brilliant.  The Community Nurses where I work have jokingly offered their first aid skills to us too.  Now we just need a 4 by 4 to follow us.

Move over Boorman and McGregor!  You don’t have to be famous to organise a charity motorbike trip!  The ‘Long, Hard Way Down’ is coming!  It’s going to be hairy and eventful too!!

18th November

It’s been a while since my last blog.  I’ve been busy with nursing, assignments and motor bike lessons.  The motor bike lessons are going well.  I finally feel in control and I have more confidence when I’m riding a big bike now.  I’ve been up to Matlock twice recently during my lessons which was great.  Last Saturday, the instructor took me up and down some steep gradients and round hair pin bends with wet leaves on the ground.  I learnt a lot about controlling the bike from this experience.  I was pretty tired by the end of a full day’s concentration though and was in bed by 9.30 on a Saturday night! 

Ali has cancelled her bike test.  She was due to take it at the end of the month.  When I first heard the news about the cancellation, my heart sank.  I thought she might be backing out of the whole trip.  Learning to ride the big bikes has been harder for her because although we’re the same height, I seem to be longer in the leg and can comfortably reach the ground whilst she struggles with this.  Apparently, Ali lost her balance pulling away at traffic lights last week and fell off.  She was ok, just seriously spooked and she decided she needs a lower bike.  We both had a chat to the Motor Bike School who might just be able to save the day. They are hopeful they will be able to get hold of 2 lower bikes for vertically challenged people like us so all is not lost, just a little delayed!  It looks like I might be the one taking my test first after all.  I won’t be blogging the date for this one though – too much pressure!  I’ll just let you know when I’ve passed, (or failed).

I’ve been having some pain from my boob reconstruction – the muscle in my breast seemed to be tightening up last week and I strained the remaining back muscle trying to wipe the ice of a car windscreen.  I’ve been falling asleep in the afternoons too.  The drugs are giving me hot flushes so I wake up sweating at night, throw off the bed clothes, get cold, pull them back on and wake up sweating again.  I do the okey kokey with various body parts to cool down too.  I’m thinking of inventing an electric blanket that measures your body temperature throughout the night and adjusts itself to keep you at a constant 37.2 degrees C.  I think a glass of red wine or 2 seems to make it worse.  It’s ok, just frustrating – I started falling asleep at a patient’s house yesterday afternoon.  It was warm and cozy and I’d had a good lunch.  Funny how you can fall asleep when you’re really not supposed to.  Someone joked about me going through the change at work when I had to strip off during a hot flush.  It didn’t occur to them I might be menopausal.  But I am, my periods have stopped now.  Half of me is relieved but the other half is feeling robbed of something.

Charity wise, we are getting a lot of support for our bike adventure around Europe and I’m hopeful we’ll find a sponsor for the trip quite soon.  I’ve been watching ‘The Long Way Down’ with Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman.  I think we should call our trip ‘The Long Hard Way Down’ after watching the two of them.  They turned up at the beginning and pulled wheelies whilst other people ran round organising the trip for them.  They have big bikes courtesy of BMW, back up vehicles and even their own team including a medic and camera man.  AND… their legs are long enough to reach the ground when they sit on the bikes!  BMW turned down our bike request recently with a polite email.  So far, between us, Ali and I have a second hand Triumph 125CC which would have trouble getting us to Derby let alone Swiebodzin in Poland and an offer from my aged parents to follow us part of the way in their clapped out car with a couple of spare tyres in the boot and a flask of tea.  Mum exclaimed indignantly, “Aged parents?!!” when she read that and asked me to change the sentence to ‘clapped out parents in an aged car”.

Ok I’m painting a very bleak picture here and it’s not entirely truthful.  We have a lot interest in what we are doing and offers of help.  Fundraising is hard work though! 

What’s in the pipeline?… We’re holding a porn star party quite soon to raise money for the trip.  We’re asking people to come dressed as a porn star and create a porn star name for themselves.  It should be good fun and we’re putting on some entertainment too.  I’ll be posting the pictures of that hopefully in January.

Now, I have to recount Saturday night for you because it made us all chuckle.  A group of us ladies went into town to celebrate a friend’s birthday.  We were just coming out of a bar when an orange lady with peroxide hair pushed my friend Jo off the pavement into the path of oncoming taxis.  Most dangerous!  But fortunately the taxis were moving slow enough to stop.  I think her reason for doing this to Jo was: “There she is!   She was after the man I wanted!”.  At some point in the past, flirty Jo had alledgedly chatted up the man that Orange Lady had ear marked for herself.  What a heinous crime! 

It was a bizarre situation because we are all clearly mature ladies as was Orange Lady.  We were pretty surprised by the attack and Jo protested a bit.  There was a lot of scuffling and a fight nearly broke out.  “Come here and I’ll knock you out!,” shouted Orange Lady, (obviously not wanting to move herself closer).  Her friends looked embarrassed.  I laid a hand gently on her arm, ready to give her some of the newfound wisdom my cancer has brought me, (the ‘hey, lady…life’s too short to fight over men’ speech), but before I could begin she looked down her nose at me and exclaimed, “AND WHO ARE YOU?!!”.  Quick as a flash, I remembered that in any hostile situation, (especially if you are ever kidnapped), it’s important to introduce yourself as a person by giving personal details about yourself.  So, I stuck out a hand and smiled. “Hi, I’m Lou”, I said.  It worked!! Orange lady broke into a smile, shook my hand warmly and introduced herself.  I decided to work on calming things down when stupidly Jo, decided to have a quick tug of Orange Lady’s hair extensions.  Not a smart move and we told Jo off.

Eventually we extricated ourselves and had a drink to get over the shock of it all, laughing at the stupidity of it and especially a woman who gets upset over some man.  It was just then that I felt a wave of very cold liquid washing over my shoulders and down my back into my butt crack.  Some drunken idiot had spilt his whole pint of lager and lime over me and was too cowardly to say sorry so I gave him a piece of my mind.  My other friend, Odette laughed and said I was destined to have a fight that evening.  I said I’d put my money on the other person winning due to my height disadvantage. 

The evening ended on an ironic note a little later when I was asked for my phone number by one of the guy’s we were dancing with in the club.  He actually followed me to the toilets to ask for it.  I’ve never been followed to the toilet before!  He told me I smelt nice – see! – don’t bother with perfume I tell you – men love the smell of beer.  I was pretty flattered by the attention and returned to my group of ladies with a big smile but I felt there was a touch of a frost in the air.  Apparently, my friend had ear marked the guy for herself. Men eh?! 

Odette and I went for a bag of chips afterwards, simple pleasures…

25^{th October 2007}

^{This week, I received a copy of the letter sent to my GP from the consultant I saw for my final review. In it he says I’m doing very well and the reconstruction feels a little solid at present but this is quite common with radiotherapy and it should soften in time and otherwise I have a very good cosmetic result… You mean it’s going to get even better?!! I couldn’t be more pleased! Now, I’d just like to get rid of the square patch of burnt skin, (from the radiotherapy), on my right breast so it looks normal again. I tried to think up some story about falling asleep whilst sunbathing in the back yard to explain it but what could possibly leave a neat 2 inch square on your boob? So that’s it now, I’m still taking my pills and my next appointment is in a year’s time for a mammography. I’ve been cast adrift, back out on the sea of life and I suppose I should be feeling good but it seems some of the best months of my life were just after my diagnosis of breast cancer and during my treatment.}

^{How strange that I’m finding it harder now. I feel a bit…lost! I think it’s the uncertainty about things – life, finances, (I’m having to wait 6 weeks for my NHS bursary to restart because they are “very busy“), relationships (the last one bombed!) and questions such as “Will IT come back one day?” and “Oh my god, what is that lump in my breast? Was that one there before?!!!” or “There’s an ache in my back, no…it’s in my kidneys…IT’S IN MY KIDNEYS?!…”}

^{I went back to nursing and found that really strange too. I was scared that I wasn’t going to be able to cope but after a week of insomnia and worry that my head was going to pop, I realised it was going to be ok and I started to relax and enjoy working in the community. The breast care nurse who gave me my second zoladex injection told me many women freak out a bit like me (my words not hers!) and a lot go back to work part time at first. I’m working in a tough area of the city – even the cats have attitude. We had to stop the car the other day for a big tom cat who sauntered out into the road and then stopped in the middle whilst it studied something it had spotted the other side. We had to beep at it before it moved on. We visit a few clients who live alone and are dying of cancer and I try not to think about how hard that would be. The other day one of the nurses was assaulted by a random guy but she’s ok. They’ve assigned me as her bodyguard this week. I’m 5ft 2.}

^{I’ve been busy outside work too. We nearly killed another cat this week. I was entrusted the care of a much loved Persian Blue kitten worth £300 and spent a week catsitting the animal at it’s home. One night, after a few drinks down the pub, my friend decided she would come back with me, sleep over and help take care of the cat. She nearly did take care of it too as I awoke to see the cat teetering on the very edge of the bedroom window sill. It was clearly considering jumping out to reach a noisy blackbird in the garden. My friend had opened the window because the room was hot. “That wasn’t such a good idea,” I said quietly whereupon she woke up, saw the cat balancing in the window and shouted, “F#@*!!” very loudly. This startled the cat who very nearly fell through the window. Quick as a flash I leapt up and ran down the stairs in my pants, my head spinning with real ale and began tapping the cat bowl in desperation to entice the cat back in. Thankfully it worked but we were a bit shaken by the incident. Anyone need catsitters?}

^{This week, Ali and I drove to Lincoln to visit a pub that is going to help us raise money by holding a biker evening and we chatted gaily about cancer together on the way. Someone told me having cancer was like a rollercoaster ride and it’s so true. One moment you are feeling invincible, positive and determined to get out there and live life to the full and the next moment you’ve dipped so far you feel totally hopeless and just want to cry. It was about this point in our serious discussion that Ali and I discovered how to pretend you have a boyfriend when you don’t because the Tom Tom I had been fiddling with and discarded suddenly came to life in my lap. The loud and sexy Tom Tom voice of ‘James’ was resonating: “At the next round-a-bout, take the second exit,” between my legs. I jumped out of my skin and we both laughed. If you ever miss not having a man, try dropping a Tom Tom into your lap on full volume and wait for instructions! Ali is thinking about dating again but she’s really worried about revealing her reconstruction to someone – she had a total mastectomy and breast reconstruction including a nipple constructed out of skin and a tattoo for the pink bits. It’s very clever but she has a lot more scars than I have. They also took muscle from her stomach to reconstruct her breast so there is scarring there too. She can’t really make up a shark attack story like me with my one small scar in the armpit. She’s also worried about the ‘I have something to tell you…’ moment where you have to tell your date about your breast cancer. After my last experience with canoe man, I’ve decided I’m not in a hurry to repeat this! I feel lucky though – if I showed you my breasts you wouldn’t be able to guess which one was a recon job.}

7^{th October 2007}

^{I’ve been waiting to see if this will be the week my life gets turned around after the forecast by Mystic Meg Man.  Funnily enough, I bumped into him on the way to the Doc’s this week but he didn’t seem quiet so convinced about my future, in fact, he looked sideways at me and then sheepishly down at the pavement. Oh well, the week began well.  I sent a photo of my boobs to Ewan McGregor and then on Thursday, Ali and I went to the launch of a lingerie shop with the supermodel, Caprice.  That sounds really great doesn’t it?!!  Well, until I explain myself it does.  I wrote to Ewan for advice after his own motor bike trip around the world, ‘The Long Way Round’.  I don’t expect to ever hear from him, (especially after including the boob photo – don’t worry, Ali had them covered – with her hands).  Caprice was at the launch of a lingerie shop we’d been invited to.  We walked straight past her on the way into the shop and did our best not to outdo her glamour-wise.  She looked…very model-like but I wanted to offer her a sausage roll.}

30th September 2007

Well, canoe man came back after a spell competing abroad.   We met up and because we’d discussed perhaps getting away somewhere on his bike by email, I showed him my new motorbike gear, (courtesy of our sponsors).  I modelled it all excitedly for him: the new black helmet, (extra small), new gloves, (large for a small chick), boots, (also largish for a small chick) and black jacket, (extra small).  For some reason it all looks extra large on me irrespective of sizing.  My brother laughed at me in my gear and said I looked like a burnt match. I realised his description of me was spot on – a huge black helmet on little legs which probably did little to impress canoe man.  I didn’t care though; I was excited as I was hoping to road test my gear somewhere with him and his bike.  I’d been holed up since my diagnosis in April in Nottingham and felt like the only place I’d visited was the City Hospital.  The prospect of a mini break was too much.

I won’t be getting a mini break though now.  We had a small ‘misunderstanding’ and he baled out.  It’s a shame because I really liked him and we had fun.  Meeting someone during all this was great but a bit challenging at the same time!  It’s been a difficult year and I’m really tired, so a relationship probably wasn’t a good idea.  I’m feeling disappointed but when I think about it, I’m not sure he really wanted to acknowledge that I’d had cancer anyway.  I thought it strange that he didn’t offer to sponsor me for the half marathon.  How do I feel at the moment? – like a relationship disaster zone.  I feel like a barren, scree mountain that no one wants to conquer -  you’ll be needing your crampons and ropes for this one!  I’ll probably just get myself a cat and call it ‘darling’ instead.  Mum gave me some good advice, she’s so right: “It’s shit Lou, now just move on!”

Now a psychologist once warned me never to go out with a sportsman as they tend to be quite single minded.  I guess it’s what gives them that competitive edge.  I’ve ignored this advice on two occasions now.  The first time, I ended the relationship when I realised I’d never be enough for him.  Mainly because I found out he’d placed an ad on the internet for sex with couples!  Now, I’m not tarring canoe man and other sports men with the same brush because that particular guy was seriously odd! 

As always, Ali was there for me and so was Elsie Mo, (2 and ½ pints of her in fact).  It was only after all my outpourings that I found out Ali had had a crap day too – she was woken up early on her day off, had taken someone to A and E to have stitches to a gash in their head, and finished the afternoon by cooking and clearing up after her 2 brothers, her daughter and the dog.  Then she ended up consoling an oversensitive, ‘just dumped’ lady in the pub.  She’s also having bad pain in her right shoulder and has found a lump there which she jokes about – she claims it’s the beginnings of angel wing’s growth.  Now, I’m sure it’s muscular pain but I know she thinks it’s cancer related. 

Have you noticed how life has a way of rubbing it in at crap times like this?  I went out with my friends last night to continue my real ale education.  I think my favourite is Elsie Mo but I don’t like Landlord which is supposed to be Madonna’s favourite drink.  Now just as I was getting some sisterly love and support from the girls, I must have been giving out some very strong and strange pheromones because I started attracting a lot of unwanted male attention. 

The first was a man in his 50’s whose approach was, “Don’t I know you?”.  I fended him off by telling him straight, he didn’t.  The second was an older man with some teef missing who kept looking at my arms and finally asked if I was a climber.  We managed to shake him by moving but the third man’s efforts topped them all.  He was a 50-something Ronnie Corbett look-alikee who took my coat hostage and threatened to return it only if I let him buy me a drink.  I heard a huge internal sigh at this point coming from my body and told him to keep the coat.  He was persistent though; it was like having one of those Jack Russell things with its teef attached to your trouser leg.  I remained polite; I think that’s my problem, I’m too polite.  Eventually he offered to send me on an all expenses paid holiday to the Pyrenees and when that failed he tried to rope in support from my friends by offering to send them too.  I think Jo was up for it.  “I’ve just been dumped,” I said, “and I’m enjoying being with the girls and I’m really not interested in a relationship anymore, thank you”.  Well, apparently, “Love is a wonderful thing. Love has the power to move mountains and that man is MAD!” for dumping me.  Again he offered me the holiday, with no invoices!  We’re not stupid you know guys; I know I’d have had to sleep with Ronnie Corbett to get that holiday.  Eventually, we left that pub.

Later, I attracted a 4th man.  I know you’re thinking it’s got to get better, hasn’t it?!  Well, no.  I think this one was on something because he excitedly told me that he knew I’d been having a bad time recently but to mark his words; in the next year my life would be completely turned around!!  He was so convinced of this and determined to convince me too that it started to freak me out.  Just as I was getting over the freakiness of it all with half a pint of London Pride, Mystic Meg man would pop up out of nowhere, look into my tired, red eyes, waggle his finger and say, “Mark my words, I PROMISE YOU!”  I’d really like to “mark his words” but I’m finding it hard to believe in happy endings at the moment!

My pheromones appeal to nutters, quite obviously.

We’re on the bikes this Tuesday 2nd October so you might want to keep off the roads!  We’ve had some exciting offers of support too recently.  I’ll tell you more about them soon!

22nd September 2007

Great news! – we raised over £500 for Cancer Research and the Lavender Trust and I got a personal best with my time in the Robin Hood half marathon! – 1hour 51.  Thank you to all my sponsors!  More about that later, we’ve got a bit of catching up to do first.  The truth is it’s been a busy week with my parents visiting and so much eating, drinking and family stuff to be done.  I’ve also been working hard and looking after canoe man’s allotment whilst he’s abroad.  I can’t work out whether this is a sign of trust or exploitation!  Only joking, I’ve been eating some tasty raspberries including albino ones which I didn’t know existed.

Before the half marathon, Central News came to film me pretending to train for it.  Well, the thought of my little sparrow legs sticking out of my shorts on local television was not a happy one but I put on my breast cancer care running vest and a smile and got out there along the Embankment of the River Trent.  I ran up and down, first too fast and then very slowly so they could film.  During the interview bit, I came very close to saying, “I’d like to thank the guys at Nottingham Touch Rugby for entering me,” but switched to “…for putting me in for the half marathon,” at the last moment. That would have upset my dad for sure! 

I was feeling pretty uncomfortable this time as the emphasis was on what I had achieved over the past 5 months and in all honesty, whilst I’m proud that I kept my training going around 2 operations and through radiotherapy, I can’t help thinking about Jane Tomlinson, who sadly, died recently.  She ran, cycled and swam incredible distances whilst undergoing chemotherapy and enduring terrible pain from cancer.  She was an amazing woman.  My achievements feel pretty small in comparison.

I was starting to get a headache.  It was a sunny day and there were lots of people around enjoying the weather by the river during their lunch breaks.  Suddenly, as I set off on a run towards the reporter, a loud, man’s voice yelled nastily from the other side of the river, “RUN YOU, ‘C U Next Tuesday’!! (Take the 4 capital letters from that bit to make a particularly nasty insult.).  I stopped running in shock and looked across the river to find the source.  It came from a group of drinkers who regularly sit along that bit of the river. I was already feeling uncomfortable before it happened and with the silence that followed and the stares in my direction, I felt crushed.  We tried again and the same thing happened, so eventually we moved on.  Now, it might have been funny if it had been said in a different tone of voice or with a less offensive word but when you broadcast that particular word in public, everyone freezes, I think even the geese and swans stopped swimming for a while.  It gave an ominous, black feeling to my day that I just couldn’t shake.

Later, I was on my way over Trent Bridge on foot when I looked down and saw a couple of drinkers were still there.  I decided to go and see them.  On my approach, I did a quick risk assessment.  There were 2, older men, sat on the grass, clearly mellowed by booze and a man with a dog who had stopped for a chat.  I knew that if I kept my distance, I could be off before they even had a chance to stumble to their feet. 

I said hello to them with a smile and then asked if they had been there during the filming.  “Yes,” they said, they had.  “Which one of you shouted, “Run you C***!” at me?” I asked politely.  Now, I had been taking a light hearted approach until now but I think I had badly misjudged my mood because a shaky, emotional voice took over for the next bit and I realised how angry I really was.  No one took responsibility.  “So, he’s not here?” I said to clarify.  “No,” they replied meekly.  “Well, when you see him, can you please tell him that I’m the C***, my name is Lou and the reason they were filming is that I’m running the half marathon for charity and I have cancer, so next time he wants to shout something like that, he might like to think about it first. Thank you!”  With that I turned my back on their astonished faces and marched off across the grass defiantly.  “Flower, flower, come back…” they called softly.  At this point, without turning, I showed them my hand and said “That’s all I have to say,” and carried on my defiant grass march.

Moments later I realised one of them was following me.  I turned and saw, lurching towards me not through the drink, but because of a terrible crippling limp, was one of the men looking sad.  I felt instant guilt and regret.  “Petal, I’m homeless, I have cancer too and my wife is in the nick,” he confided.  “Oh bloody hell!”, I thought, “That’s typical, for once I decide to make a stand for justice and not only do I target the wrong person but he has cancer too!”  I sympathised and explained apologetically why I was so angry.  He told me none of his friends would have passed such a comment and even offered to sponsor me!  I can only hope that a skewed kind of justice took place later when he found the guilty party and told him the story of the angry marching lady in the black dress.  My sister in law, Rach, laughed when I re-enacted the hand and the defiant grass march for her – it was quite funny after the event.  And the moral of this little story is: “Leave it! – You can guarantee that your quest for justice will backfire and there’s always someone worse off than you!”

The Wednesday before the half marathon, I caught the bus to the City Hospital for my Zoladex injection.  Now, I’ve given some injections in my time as a student nurse but none like that, it was a big one.  It inserts an implant under the skin of your stomach which works for a month.  I held off starting the Tamoxifen after talking to the nurse because the side effects can be immediate and hot flushes often occur at night.  I wanted some quality sleep before the half marathon so I started the Tamoxifen the Tuesday afterwards.  I am now officially menopausal.  It turns out my fears of becoming a wrinkled old prune overnight are not so fanciful – the drop in oestrogen speeds up the process of skin aging.  Marvellous and how ironic, I might finally begin to look my age!  No side effects to report yet – I’m sweating at night but I think it’s down to my winter duvet!

I finally had my Occupational Health Appointment after a 5 week wait and received the go ahead to return to nursing.  The appointment was like pulling teeth – I had to go through the entire history of my cancer whilst it was written down by hand.  I’m sure a letter from my own GP could have saved time and money and yet another appointment – have I not had enough by now!  A good thing that came out of it, however, was that it highlighted a lack of pastoral care and I hope that following the Doctors suggestions, there will be a better system in the future to support students who have to go on ‘interrupt’ like me.  I am a little worried that I’ll now be labelled a troublemaker for exposing flaws in a system…

And now…the marathon!  What a fantastic autumnal day for it!  Beautiful colours and cool weather which was perfect for running except for a strong wind at times.  The atmosphere was great and I bumped into a few friends along the way.  I took a fall in Wollaton Park whilst trying to shout hello at my cousin, Charlotte, as I ran under her nose.  I hit a kerb and found myself flying forwards, surfing the air like superman.  It was not an unpleasant feeling actually.  I could hear some gasps in the crowd and I was worried for a nanosecond but realised I was unhurt, jumped up and ran on.  I was having a great time until the last 3 miles.  At the ten mile mark, a man was supporting the runners with a deathly slow hand clap which had something very demotivating about it and I started to feel ill.  I thought I had pushed myself too hard at this point and doubts popped into my head – maybe I had bitten off too much and expected too much from my body… stop running and start walking…  Just then I spotted a clock with the race time and I thought “Go for it Lou, under 2 hours, DO IT!!”  The last 3 miles were not good, especially when I passed a body outstretched on the Embankment with an ambulance crew attending it.  As I came towards the finish line I pushed and knew I’d done it under 2 hours, but I didn’t realise I’d broken my previous time in 2001 though!

Mum and I cried, realised people were staring and then laughed a bit.  Apparently, she and my sister in law, Rach, had cried watching me approach the finish line and a lady spectator had said to them, “Why are you crying? – it’s not a bad time that!”  Later on, I did a spot of gardening and then mum and I cooked a roast.  Not bad for an old, menopausal lady who has just run 13 miles, eh?  I felt tired but good! 

What’s next?..  It’s the return of the motorbike training!  Stay off the roads!!…

ps. I’d like to thank the City Council for considering and rejecting my plea of poverty over my recent parking fine.  I have been fined for parking outside my own house because the parking permit my neighbour loaned me was 2 days out of date and neither of us realised. The car was also on loan for a week from a friend so I could get to hospital more easily for my radiotherapy treatment.  Some of my benefits are on their way to you.  Thank you, parking police, for protecting my right to park outside my own house!

Oooh, I’m such a troublemaker!

9th September 2007
Ali and I were involved in a nasty incident this week.  We were on our way to our local bank to drop off details of our charity motorbike trip around Europe in order to open a “Breast Quest 2008″ account when we became stuck behind a big black Lexus.  The car was obviously waiting for someone in the bank but was blocking everyone by doing so.  We waited patiently for a while before I pointed out that the car had black blinds across it’s back window and perhaps the owner couldn’t see us.  Eventually, Ali gave the car a gentle ‘parp’ to nudge the owner on.  There were parking spaces a few metres away.  “PAAAAAARRRRRP!!!” came the reply from the Lexus drawing the attention of people both inside and outside the bank.  We looked at each other in surprise at the rude reply.  The car sat blocking the way until at last a woman emerged from the bank.  As she was getting into the Lexus, I thanked her in a light hearted manner out of the window.  “Thank you, yourself!!” she said nastily and got in.  The lady and the Lexus owner then had a little chat and decided to make us wait further in order to teach us a lesson.  Eventually they edged slowly forward, stopping and starting just to show us who was controlling the situation.

At this point we started laughing, finding the whole situation a bit ridiculous.  Still believing we couldn’t be seen by the Lexus driver, I laughingly flicked a V sign at the car’s blacked out windows.  Then I realised the Lexus driver could see us very well because an angry head popped out, desperately trying to crane itself round to face our car and began yelling aggressively at me.  “Ooops! I think they could see us after all,” I said to Ali.  Ok, I shouldn’t have flicked my V’s but we were a bit frustrated by all the rudeness by now.  The head went off on a rant but for the most part we could only make out the ‘eff’ word.  Funny how you can hear the ‘eff’ word so well and how ugly it makes people look.  The rant ran along the lines of: “Don’t you effin flick your fingers at me!! I demand an effin apology.”  And was followed by a lot more loud effin which just became a torrent of eff’s in the end.  Onlookers were following events closely by now.

Lexus lady eventually drove forward and we followed, pulling into a nearby parking spot so we weren’t blocking others.  By now Ali and I were giggling nervously, not fully understanding how the incident had escalated into an attack when the driver popped her head out of the window again.  “What is she effin laughing at?”  “What are you effin laughing at?”  “I want an effin apology. You’re effin RACIST you are!”  The Lexus driver was an Asian lady.  More effin followed and Ali tried to explain to the woman we were laughing at her rudeness and politely asked her to go away (without using any ‘eff’ words) but Lexus lady couldn’t drop it.  She continued telling the whole of Tudor Square that we were effin racist and people were having a good look by now at the two racist ladies standing by their car.  My heart was thumping in my chest as I was actually a bit scared by what was going on.  The whole incident was so nasty I think I expected it to end in gun shot.  When the car eventually drove off again, a head reappeared for a last time on reaching a junction, and continued it’s racist claims to the square whilst beeping the horn angrily which confused oncoming cars.

Ali and I felt pretty embarrassed as we walked into the bank and faced the stares of the bank customers.  They may as well have announced our entrance on the tannoy – “Hey bank customers! The 2 racist ladies are just entering the bank!”  We dropped off our bank letter after an embarrassing wait and sought refuge in a pub.  Walking up to the barman, Ali said with a deadpan face: “I’ll have a double coke and vodka please.” “Make mine a triple,” I said.  The young barman raised his eyebrows.  It was only 3pm.  We changed the order. “Diet coke with ice please,” said Ali “Purple J2O with ice please,” I said.  In order to make sense of the incident and smoothe out our knitted brows, we had a little chat about angry people, and decided Lexus lady was heading for a heart attack and ironically, it was she, in truth, who was the racist.  We managed to feel slightly better but it still put a real damper on our afternoon.  There are some scary people around, both men and women.

I had the chance of losing my rag this week too when the breast care nurse offered to book me in for the first of my monthly Zoladex injections to reduce my oestrogen levels and induce a fake menopause. The treatment lasts for 2 years.  I hate taking medicine and pills so I chickened out and booked an appointment for this Wednesday instead because I’ll also be starting Tamoxifen, (to block oestrogen production), at the same time.  I will take Tamoxifen for 5 years and common side effects include: hot flushes, sweats, weight gain, nausea and indigestion.  The less common ones include depression, headaches and a small risk of endometrial cancer.  From the Zoladex injections, I may experience the following: loss of libido and dry ladies bits, (marvellous – just now I’ve met someone), joint pain, weight gain, hot flushes, tiredness and loss of periods.

Basically, it sounds like I will be entering a false menopause, putting on weight, (without the joy of overeating), having hot flushes and losing my sex drive.  Wow!  No wonder I end up with headaches and depression!  In my mind, I imagine canoe man, (who has just gone abroad again), returning in 2 and half weeks to find an aggressive, wizened old hag with headaches and violent mood swings who is only interested in slippers and a cup of cocoa at night.  No offence to menopausal women – it’s just my way of coping.  To preserve the old Lou I’m taking precautions – lots of vitamin E, red clover and a healthy diet coupled with lots of running.  I will not be buying any cocoa, horlicks or ovaltine.

Blimey, I really didn’t appreciate all that my brother and sister in law had to go through with her breast cancer, (or anyone with cancer for that matter), and I’ve had it easy in comparison!  Meeting someone amidst all this has been challenging and strange in an interesting kind of way.  I am constantly surprised that he still wants to see me and I’m not sure how much he knows.  We don’t talk about cancer much and I certainly don’t want to discuss my menopause with him!  I try to keep the little details of my treatment hidden but I had a huge shock this week when, whilst trying to find out if he was member of MySpace by using the site’s search facility, (and keying in his email address), it sent him a direct invitation by email to join instead, (and read my blog)!  What a misleading and underhand search facility that is!  I broke out in a cold sweat but I played it down by asking him to ignore the email and am just hoping he does!

With the prospect of my early menopause, I have been frantic too – frantically looking at passing young men!  Only looking!  It’s very strange, almost as if I think I am about to lose something but I’m not sure what.  At the moment however, I’m a little preoccupied with the thought that next Sunday (16th) I will be running the Robin Hood half marathon because I’m nursing a sore throat and a running injury.  I went for one of my last long runs today and was struggling towards the end when some lads shouted at me “Keep running Love.”  “You can do it!”  “I can!” I shouted and thought back over the last months of training.  3 of my previous attempts at running this half marathon have failed last minute due to a running injury, torn hamstrings from my first attempt at water skiing and tonsilitis.  I last ran this half marathon in 2001. 

This time I have managed to keep running through operations, radiotherapy, a running injury, a sore breast, jogger’s nipple, feeling poorly, jogger’s belly and all the days when I woke up in a black mood thinking “What’s the point?”  Suddenly my legs felt lighter and I realised this half marathon is special because of what it means personally.  Of course I’ll be doing it for all the great sponsorship I’ve been given, but it’s also taught me something about myself.  I know that if I want to do something in the future, I have the strength to do it.  Even if it means having to make a compromise, (like walking the half marathon for example), I’ll do it.  Of course, I might always doubt my ability – just then a little voice in my head said, “But are you sure you can keep running an extra 30 minutes to the end on the day Lou?”  I was surprised by the voice that replied.  “Of course I effin can!” it shouted back, as I ran across a football pitch.

26th August 2007

Oh my word, whilst writing this week’s blog, I had a peek at last week’s to see what I’d written and discovered that I’d started repeating last weeks blog in this weeks. I think it’s because I got this week mixed up with last week and next week in my head which resulted in me cancelling stuff and then uncancelling it.  Hey… it all makes sense to me.

At the moment, I have a really strong desire to go on holiday somewhere so I don’t have to plan my days around radiotherapy, eat boiled eggs, apply cream to my breast three times a day and see people with cancer every day.  I imagine myself lying on the beach, my face warmed by sun, sea gulls flying around overhead and the sound of waves in the background.  It seems frighteningly real when I close my eyes.  I can catch a faint whiff of the sea.  Normally, it would take a lot to make me lie still on a beach but I could quite happily lie around, doing nothing, thinking nothing or just reading a book.  If you’re nodding your head at this, book yourself a holiday.

Not much happened this week.  My right breast is pretty red now from the radiotherapy, it looks sunburnt and my itchy nipple was driving me crazy.  I tried not to itch it because it stung like mad when I did and the only way to get some relief was through slapping it.  Fortunately, I’m having my ‘boost’ treatment now, (to target the tumour bed), so treatment is confined to a 2 inch square where the lump used to be and my peeling nipple, (below this area), is recovering.  The whole sun burn effect makes me think of the film, “Close encounters of the 3rd kind”.  If you’ve not seen the film, the characters who saw UFO’s ended up with a red swathe of burnt skin across their faces like Brits on holiday.  If anyone asks, I’ll pass of my red swathe as a close encounter of the 3rd kind.

I’m still foxed, (and so is everyone I speak to), as to why I was ever prescribed a drug that’s normally given to postmenopausal women.  I thought I was looking pretty good for my age!  An Oncologist I wrote to told me the drug is not effective in premenopausal women like myself.  The other day I was even more confused when I was told that a doctor had now prescribed a different drug plus ovarian ablation since last seeing me.  I was pretty shocked by this because I thought ovarian ablation meant having my ovaries zapped to make me sterile – “Blimey,” I thought – “I only asked the woman about my chances of having kids and she’s  panicked and decided I should be sterilised as I’m a pregnancy risk!”  I decided to check the definition of ‘ablation’ and realised it means either irreversibly suppressing the ovaries or temporarily with a monthly injection, (that I knew I was having anyway), so it’s not quite as drastic as it sounds.  I’ve been offered an appointment with my surgeon and breast care nurse to properly discuss my drugs and fertility issues and clear up any confusion.

I’ve been doing some more research – I tried to find out about the Blue Peter presenter, Caron Keating, who died of breast cancer.  I read she had a lump removed and then avoided chemotherapy and had radiotherapy just like me.  I stopped reading after I found she went organic and dairy free like me and only lasted 7 years from diagnosis.  The cancer came back in her spine.  It frightened me a little, especially when I found a comment on a cancer forum suggesting that if she had had the chemotherapy, she wouldn’t have died so soon.  Oh bugger it!; in the end I decided it’s a case of Doris Day – “Que sera, sera”…. It’s good to inform yourself via the internet but sometimes you can find too much information.  I think it’s best to read the information, digest it with a pinch of salt, then go away and make yourself a nice cup of tea.

A bit of “What if…?” stayed in my head though – I know that Caron Keating’s case is unusual but I am a bit unusual.  I’m not saying I’m unlucky because I don’t believe in good and bad luck or fate but secretly I do think I’m a bit jinxed sometimes.  Here’s a conversation that took place between my mum and my brother just after he’d told mum about my diagnosis:

Tom (stern voice): “Now mum…”
Mum: “Yes Tom?”

Tom: “I don’t want to hear any more talk about Lou being ‘unlucky’.”

Mum: “Ok Tom.”

Tom:  “It’s all crap – it has nothing to do with luck. Ok?”

Mum: “Yes Tom.”
Big Pause……………
 

Mum (grinning): “Yes, but she is a bit unlucky, isn’t she?”
 

Didn’t Leonardo DiCaprio say in the film Titanic: “You make your own luck?”  Well, I believe him but how unlucky was he after that?!…  Titanic sank and he froze to death.  I used to think I jinxed others too.  I had an inexplicable crush on Ivan Lendl as a teenager and every time I watched him play tennis, he lost.  I stopped watching him and he started winning.

Canoe man has just arrived back from competing abroad.  He fell out of his boat, chipped his elbow and lost quite badly…

I managed to pick up a parking ticket whilst parked outside my own house this week – Ali lent me her car and a neighbour kindly lent me her visitor’s parking pass.  Unfortunately, the pass was 3 days out of date.  It wasn’t the neighbour’s fault.  I’m now waiting to see if Ali has received any speeding fines for me.

I’m still running but I’m feeling pretty tired now.  I’m not sleeping very well but more worryingly, I’ve developed jogger’s belly.  After 40 minutes running, I have an urgent need to … go for a ‘number 2′.  Apparently, this is quite common amongst runners – I have a friend I used to go running with and she had the same problem – we had to incorporate public toilet stops into our runs.  She’d run into a toilet and I’d hang around outside jogging on the spot and doing star jumps, then she’d run back out again and we’d set off towards the next toilet stop.  Once, during a very long run, we were lucky enough to find portaloos placed at intervals around a Regatta lake.  She used all 3 portaloos plus 2 other public loos with results each time.  

Fortunately, I’m not that bad yet but I could do without this little problem for the Robin Hood half marathon.  Paula Radcliffe may have peed in public but we could do without Lou Hartley…

Ali comes back from holiday tomorrow and although there’s lots of good news for her about the motor bike ride around Europe we are planning for charity next year, I’m still struggling to find us practice bikes.  Apparently 125 bikes are like “hen’s teeth”, so I’m told.

At last, I’m on top of things financially and I may receive some help after all – the benefits people have just sent me a 20 page document to complete, (after 2 months of correspondence).  I have also become adept at managing my finances –  when I hear a bill drop on the mat, I’m straight there.  I think; “Deal with ‘em quick Lou, take control!”, so I rip open the envelope, digest the contents thoroughly and then I file them in my new efficient filing system – a pile of papers on my desk.  I’ve stopped worrying!

The best news yet is… I only have 4 organic boiled eggs left to eat as part of my astronaut diet to combat the effects of radiation.  4 more treatments left and then I’m out of that place!  I used to really like eggs…