Part 2 (sort of)

Can I preface this post by saying that I'm writing this on a beautiful spring day, hanging with the niecelet on a blanket, while my family work the allotment (Note to A, sadly not our allottment). If I wasn't recovering from the Op, I'd be in doors at work - Ha, ha cancer I win this round.

So where had we got too? Oh yes, I'd just won entrance into the Breast Care Centre, a place that at points, seemed more exclusive than SoHo house. When actually the reverse is true, they can’t give memberships away, so they sneakily stuff them into your bras instead. No suave mixologists here, just amazing NHS staff handling the brave and scared masses.

There are a lot of plugs sockets in the waiting room of the BCC, like a ridiculous amount, sockets as far as the eye can. I cannot stress this point enough, there are an insane amount of sockets here. I can't for the life of me figure out why there are so many, it's my new favorite way to wile away the waiting game because none of them are being used! You see? The mind boggles.   

If I'm not pondering the sockets, I'm reading hideously out-of-date copies of Hello magazine. Granted, they'd be hideous if they were last weeks but they sure are distracting and the orange people in them lead crazy lives. My Grandma used to buy Hello for me as a treat (?) when I was younger so I find them quite comforting.

Dad always has a science journal or a pre-bought newspaper with him. I always bring a book too but it's soon ignored - which is why he will be even smarter at the end of all this and I will know who the cast of Made in Chelsea* are. I guess cancer wins that round then.

I am about to make perhaps the most obvious of all the observations thus made on little blog; I do not like hanging out in the BCC waiting room. Don’t get me wrong, they have tried to make it nice - apart from the sockets, really what is that about? (must stay on topic). The truth is, I do not like being around sick people. Wait, I need to qualify that, I welcome the support and love from those now in the trenches or those who have gone before. I more than welcome it, I am grateful for it, I really hope I can be a rock for others someday**. I just do not like to be around sick people en masse. I’ve heard (and seen in movies) that the Chemo rooms are full of camaraderie and jolly banter, I think this is because there’s nothing else to do but plough on through. The BCC waiting room is a place of anxiety; of dashed hopes, of fear and A LOT of the bad kind of waiting. I think it’s because everyone is heads down and involved in their own fight, which is absolutely fair enough, but the JuJu is just a little funky.

We go in to see MBS and then it’s all cancer, cancer, cancer, blah, blah blah. I’ll introduce you all to Burt another time - yes I named my tumour Burt, irony of all ironies, he was christened Burt the Benign tumour in those blissfully unaware two days (let’s just ram that 2 theme home here shall we?) before life got weird. I think it was a work friend who renamed him Burt the Bastard. 

Anyway the day finishes with Dad and I going to see a trashy, violent thriller - Liam Neeson’s Non-Stop. It certainly does the trick, it numbs the mind, I am no longer thinking about cancer. If the PR people for Non-Stop want to use that last sentence on the DVD jacket, feel free to quote me. The day we found out about mum’s re-diagnoses, I went to see The Dark Knight. I crave violent films when I get difficult news…. I wonder what that says about me?

* I was going to explain what this is, to those not in the know but then thought, why should we all suffer?

** Can we take it as read that I really don’t wish this on anyone else? I actively send out vibes that no one else in the history of ever gets this but that’s not realistic now is it? 1 in 3 people, people, so keep checking your bits and bobs, hell have a full medical!  (now I sound ominous - happy thoughts everyone, happy thoughts)