16-32-64 thirty-seven

I've just had a mild altercation with a lady in the bus, who clearly wanted to play "I'm more worthy of this disabled seat than you are". I mean, seriously. I'm thirty two feeling sixteen because I can't do confrontation, sitting in the space normally set out for sixty-four year olds!

It's been an odd week; I've wanted to write but nothing has really happened or seemed worthy. I'm coming off my steroids in a different way to usual and it appears to be working this time. Instead of taking them in a "one day off, two days on" pattern as recommended by the Oncology team, I've been stretching the time between them. I'm currently doing 36 hour gaps with little side effects (I think) and tomorrow start 48 hour spaces.

I say no side effects, but I did spend almost the whole weekend in isolation and wanted to - odd considering that being in them on a higher dose makes me antisocial, and apparently so does coming off them. On Tuesday mum was due to pop in and I realised I was going a bit stir-crazy, so I met her at a local cafe and we sat in the window watching the world, and I felt reconnected. And ready.

I met a few different (ex-) colleagues (I must get used to saying the ex- part - I've not been properly at work for nearly two years!) yesterday evening - all very excited with their news. One is newly engaged, one is leaving having been headhunted, others are doing big projects and all sorts.

They're all excited for me, being so well and stable and looking so healthy but... That's not an achievement, is it? I haven't gotten here from hard work - it's all luck and the hard work of the researchers and amazing people that create the drugs. I'm just receiving - and lucky to be able to.

My Pops is doing well - his hormone treatments have started and in a couple of weeks we get to go meet his Oncology team and plan the start of his chemotherapy - most likely in the same week at the start of October. It's good that his treatment has started - the waiting is so hard when you can almost feel the cancer growing inside you. Envisioning something like black mould or little green monsters the size of nanobots multiplying...

Okay so I'm feeling a bit sensitive - I have an Oncology appointment myself in an hour and I missed my train by moments, so once again I'm at a train station updating you. I've had stretch marks suddenly appear in the fatty bit of one arm - not both, just there, high up - and I'm worried about lymph node involvement. I don't even have the balls to feel it and wonder if it is lumpy or soft or what it should/shouldn't be like. I just know something isn't right and I'm going to talk to them today. Being stable at the last set of scans might be a relief at the time, but never means it'll last.

I have lots to tell you about. My dad's friend in Liverpool had secondary lung cancer and is about to start radiotherapy for brain mets. My/his desk arrived refurbished and looks gorgeous. It's insanely girly now with all my mad tat, but I couldn't be prouder. Even he is impressed with the work.
I had my eyebrows done - they look great. I'm back in Weight Watchers - also going great. My train is being delayed... Less great. More later.

16-32-64 thirty-six

Had a really good meeting with my GP (and a frightened looking pet registrar) this morning. I'm amazed to find I haven't seen her since April having had to pick up with locums during the summer while she's been away, and spending so much time in Oncology I haven't needed to see her.

Am in Costa Coffee right now - being back on WW (since yesterday - don't get excited!) made me go looking for the least naughty drink I could have and stay out and about. I was expecting to end up with an iced-tea-fruit-infusion type thing (which are usually pretty tasteless) but it turns out they've gone back to basics and started blending just fruit and juice! Like you would at home! What a revelation! (sigh) So I'm getting two of my five a day here and feeling very angelic.

Back to the GP. I updated on her my physical and mental health - great and great - brain mets are 'calcified' following the radiotherapy and organ mets are all NED. She looked particularly surprised by the brain so perhaps I'm very lucky it's worked so well - I chose not to ask what she was expecting because I honestly don't what to know. I told her about my reduction in steroids with my new 36-48-72 hour gap plans (coming off steroids is a hideous experience, making me very very sick. This is a new try) and she said it was inspired, so I'm pleased with that. Then we went on to my energy levels.

Costa is filling up - the children in here are quite well behaved and not too loud, but I am looking forward to them going back to school so I can use the cinema more at my leisure and it'll just be the "yummy-mummy" crew to contend with. I should get out of here before lunch time so I'm not too tempted by the smells of their paninis being toasted...

Having this chemo break has reminded me what having a normal (for cancer) energy levels are like, and I want it. I crave it. I don't want to go back down to fatigued days and long long nights. A friend who is a nurse and has a special interest in antidepressants and similar meds, informed me last week that the one I'm currently on (SSRI Citalopram, 40mg) has an element of helping you sleep. So with my GP today I mentioned one of the alternative SSNI (similar but not quite the same) called Venlafaxine.

My GP is lovely and has given me a great, solid place to go to when I have medical questions or need a bit of comfort and support. But you can see from her face that she is NOT used to people who do their own research; know their drug names and doses and feels quite out of her depth sometimes when I come in spouting my cancery news with almost relish. I love to learn about this stuff, it really helps me cope and understanding is the main way forward when you know you may end up on trials and your own research and contacting specialists may save your life. Well, extend it then. 

So, she looked uncomfortable while I talked about this alternative, but conceded that a change of meds now rather than later in the year made sense. We talked for a while about how I was ready to suffer a bit of a bump while I changed and the steroid reduction at the same time - I said I would get off the steroids first, and she seemed relieved. I'm in no rush, everything in it's own time etc. 

Just had a call to confirm my friend J has the keys to her new place and is moving in today - this is fantastic news. I'm going over there shortly to have a sushi lunch, and see it for the first time. I'm so pleased for her; she so deserves a break after this year. My fruit concution here in Costa is nearly finished and I'm starting to feel the eyes of "time to buy something else or go, love" from staff. Five more minutes... 

Eventually the GP agreed to all my logic; I don't think I pushed but I was very positive and I think that really helped my case (the reg sat silently nodding - talk about way out of your depth with a cancer patient asking for antidepressants with a kick!). The GP is going to speak to a psychatric colleague about how best for me to make the switch, and call me to discuss further and create the prescription with relevant dosage etc.

So, as I said, a good appointment and she's pleased I'm coming off the steroids, gone back on WW and doing positive things like getting involved at St Christopher's. Which I haven't yet but I will. I will!! 

16-32-64 thirty-five

I feel sixteen at the moment - I know I'm not running around brimming with energy, but I certainly feel absolutely wonderful on this chemo break and it's doing my physical and mental health wonders.

Sunday was my 32nd birthday (that information still hasn't really settled in yet to be honest) but festivities started on Thursday when I travelled to meet friends in Milton Keynes. An amazing dinner was had, here at Melis (Turkish & Ottoman food - the best of any Mediterranean I've ever had) in the little village my friends H&C live in.

Friday was the shared tattoo I've been hinting toward for weeks - this is the original image, from a Korean poetry book (we contemplated getting the text and decided not to, but it's very beautiful):

H already has a few small tattoos and my friend J came up to have her first with us at Electra Tattoo, all done by the incredible Mark who bravely put up with the three of us from 10:30am - 7:30pm in order to get the three done in one day. What a grafter; and a true artist. Photos in a few days when the last of the bruising has gone down - it seems to be healing well (if a little slowly, although I've been warned of that on lower legs) and I think the chemo break of three weeks will be enough.

Dinners and lunches and lovely family moments including a Chinese for ten, where so much food was ordered I was actually a bit embarrassed (£177.20) and a trip to Greenwich - one of my favourite places in the world.

I had my eyebrows tattooed back on today by Geraldine at the Karen Betts Harley Street clinic. They never really recovered after coming back very fair and sort of half-there after the first chemotherapy which finished this time last year; so I promised myself when I got ill health retirement that I would have them done - I extremely pleased I went ahead.

As I'd hoped, it was a really positive experience; couldn't recommend her more and I'm very happy with the early results. My niece came along as a second opinion and to help me make the big decisions - at seventeen I thought it was a good chance to see what having a tattoo looked like - almost an 'ink-lite' experience! Not that she wants any of her own, but I was grateful of the company when I started to get a bit nervous beforehand and someone to bounce the ideas off when it came to agreeing to the colour and shape. They look like real hairs; it's quite incredible and really very different from a standard tattoo - the machine was even quieter than the gentle hum of the rotary that Mark had used a couple of days ago.
Looking forward to seeing how they fare over the next few days while the swelling (no where near as bad as I expected) and darkness of colour goes down. Photos soon; worth every penny - and it costs a lot of them!

Lastly, my desk has arrived back in it's incredible refurbished condition - fits great in my living room and I'm busy filling it with all the good things that a nice desk deserves. I'll take photos tomorrow in the daylight - but it is really stunning. My dad was particularly impressed with how well the re-leathering was done.

So, a couple of days indoors (I was preparing for the eyebrows to look a lot worse than they do) with just a GP catch up on Friday, and Sainsbury's delivering on Sunday. Let's hope it's drier tomorrow - it's been pelting with rain all evening - so I can at least sit out in the garden while I relax. Oh! and I keep forgetting; dinner with J at Sapporo on Friday night with my Pops - she is moving into the area on Friday so I'm looking forward to showing her what was my favourite restaurant when I lived nearby with the ex. Fingers crossed it's still just as good!

16-32-64 thirty-four

For anyone wondering how my weekend away is going...

16-32-64 thirty-three

I have questions. Big ones, about life, the universe and everything. Maybe I'm feeling 42 today.

No, definitely not. I feel about twenty actually - I have more energy than I have in weeks, and my tinnitus is relatively quiet despite staying up until two. My thighs feel more normal and my stamina is at a high - I spent all day out from 11am - 8pm and I'm still good. This is the week I'm due chemo but I'm taking a three week break to get tattooed... So I'll keep feeling this way, and better hopefully for the next 21 days. That - wow - that sounds GOOD.

So, three questions to ponder -

Is there a shift pattern in place for bell ringing in churches? Do they even do this manually any more or is it all automated?

Is there a nice neighbour etiquette regarding wind chimes in the next back garden? I really like that neighbour and don't want to upset her, but oh oh how I hate wind chimes.

Is there a moral reason not to visit Poundland? I don't know anything about it, but it's mostly recognisable brands, and therefore not supporting sweatshops in the way Primark do - right?

Signing off happy!

16-32-64 thirty-two

So it turns out Meowls is a thing - it's managed to pass me by completely, but now I've learned of it, they seem to be everywhere. These are my favourites - enjoy. 

16-32-64 thirty-one

Beautiful meal or with E&A last night to celebrate us girl's birthdays. Mine is now just a week away and hers was at the end of July, and we were lucky to get a Saturday evening A's parents were able to do babysitting duty so we could go to Sea Salt, Beckenham. I'll add a link here later on.

Lovely food there, really nice quiet atmosphere and we chattered contentedly in the corner over very fine cocktails and piles of food for three hours. That's what I need right now; great company, nice and quiet.

Really liking Under The Dome TV show at the moment and making my way through it at a clipper - the second series has gotten a little odd (as I was warned) and apparently the third gets silly... But it's based on a Stephen King novel, so I'm ready for anything. E wants me to go back and finish Humans because it got better, and A had a couple of recommendations too - must ask him to remind me.

Remember I said I was like a little old lady frightened of my TV when it first arrived? I feel like I've got the hang of it now and am quite pleased. My Firestick had gone to my dad (as the TV made it obsolete) and the switch from Netflix to Amazon Prime is official tomorrow.

Off out shortly to Homebase for masonry nails to put up trellis in the garden and do a few other things with gardener aunt - tired, but chipper at 32 (almost!) today.

Lastly; rather wonderfully, there was a guy busking with an electric guitar outside the local M&S Food at 11.30pm last night. Beckenham is a little village-y type place most of the time -  we have our local book shop, a sausage shop, lots of cafés... It's not Covent Garden!! and yet this just really finished off my evening with a grin. If the drunk idiots bar-hopping on Saturday nights want to dance and donate to this entrepreneur, I'm all for it!

As long as he doesn't bring the silver painted people next time...

16-32-64 thirty

Referring back to 1st August, I've already explained that my dad ('Pops') had been recently diagnosed with prostate cancer. We've been dealing with it in an oddly reserved and relaxed manner, feeling as though we have a bit of a handle on things with the experience of my cancer over the past eighteen months. And then it kicks you when you're down, and you remember to be surprised.

The more up to date news isn't good - the prostate cancer has spread and although there is no organ involvement yet, it's throughout his lymph nodes and therefore considered metastatic. The new treatment plan is the same as what I had nearly two years ago - hit with chemo and start hormone treatments immediately - they which will continue for the rest of his life.

Pops was originally offered radiotherapy as a first port of call, but now it's found to have spread, chemo is the way forward. I said got to be worth going through five months of chemo for the price of two more years of life (it extends the prognosis by about 22 months rather than just having hormone treatments, their most recent studies show). He originally said he would decline chemotherapy if offered it, but I think he's so relieved not to have to attend five days a week for three months radiotherapy, this is almost better.

I've found it hard to deal with mostly that the prognosis has reminded me of my own. Very strange to feel like I'm being hit with facing up to my own mortality almost two years on again. So, I've cancelled a few lunch and dinner dates and having a quiet few days out of the busy schedule of things I usually 'entertain' myself with.

I'll get back on track, this has just been quite a shock as I didn't expect the news to get any worse from his first diagnosis. Once again, am eerily familiar story.

At the same time, one of his closest friends who lives in Liverpool had just been diagnosed with a pair of brain tumours which have turned out to be secondary to lung cancer. I've been talking her through some of my experience through Facebook messaging - radiotherapy mainly, as that's what she's facing first for the brain tumours, which have caused her to lose all power in one leg and other side effects. No one can quite believe this is all going on.

My health for once is fine - tiredness but otherwise the comfort of the recent scan results is still there, and I can't wait to have my new tattoo next Friday! More on that later - I have one very important dinner date I have kept with friends E&A at local seafood restaurant Sea Salt and absolutely cannot wait.

16-32-64 twenty-nine

It's 9am, I'm thinking to myself as I finish breakfast and consider what to do with my day. I should be settling down to a desk, switching on my PC, complaining about my emails to whomever I share my office with these days. I should be worried about the price of groceries; reading the news online before tackling my emails, complaining about the weather. None of these things are part of my normal day any longer.

It's also a Saturday. What use would I be when I don't know what day of the week it is?

16-32-64 twenty-eight

Gabapentin - works!

Extra sleep - works!

Radiotherapy - hopefully works too.

I've just left the department after a hit on my ribs. Posterior ribs, left side. Had all the usual chatter, signed the forms but this time a much smaller machine that has an arm that comes around to you on a movable, comfortable bed. Such an improvement on the machines I've been in before (apparently a different kind of radiotherapy) which have been all metal - they practically strap you in; you're stuck lying flat on your back (which is agony for me unless my knees are raised) and the bed it metal too.

So, eight minutes of lying very still (eyes closed, concentrate on breathing as recommended by my Pops) and they're back in, fussing around and discharging me and I'm making tattoo jokes and off I go. Two years ago this would have been terrifying, unthinkable - today, I'm more concerned about what's for lunch when I meet my friend upstairs.

Redness and soreness ("have you got any Doublebase?") to be expected, and the pain from the bone itself may get worse before it gets better. Typically, I forgot the fact that both will be at their worst at two weeks post-treatment... Which is my birthday weekend - but that's fine. As long as there's someone around to moisturise me, I'll be fine.

16-32-64 twenty-seven

My Gabapentin is here! It's one tablet a night for 3-4 days and then if I'm still suffering pain, I can up to one in the morning too, and further down the line I could even go up to three doses; although I hope not to have to. 

Bit of a mix today - am overall feeling 32 though. I went to the GP to chase the above, get five repeat prescriptions and request a physio referral. Nice locum found me a bit irritatingly knowledgeable and kept asking me to repeat stuff while he typed s l o w l y; although that was something to do with his limited access (he said). Had a lovely wrap for lunch at Deli Nene - they've definitely upped their game and I'm looking forward to going back one evening for their new Tapas menu.

Lastly, I had a four hour nap and woke feeling rested for the first time in weeks. And yet it's now coming up to usual bedtime (10:30pm) and the tinnitus is back at usual volume and I'm the same tiredness as I would be on any other day. So it makes no difference at all, it seems...

Two appointments tomorrow - Radiotherapy at St Thomas' at 10:50am, and then Cardiology for an ECG at 4:30pm. The former will take about an hour, so I have a little under five hours to fill in the afternoon and have one lunch planned so far. Hope to see a few other people - might do my usual trick of texting a dozen or so different people and just say "I'll be in AMT coffee for the next two hours - come on down if you can" - that often works nicely.

16-32-64 twenty-six

I'm doing paperwork today, amongst other sorting and having lunch with my sister during her bimonthly London visit - lovely grilled king prawns from Ask were enjoyed by all.

You know that awkward feeling you get when you take down birthday cards a week later, feeling a bit guilty about throwing them away? Well it's worse when it's "sorry you're sick" cards. Eighteen-month-old cards that couldn't even say "get well soon" on them because my diagnosis was terminal. I know they weren't easy to buy, not easy to write (most were cat cards; 'blank for your message' types - people know me well enough) and it all adds up to my not thinking about it yet and just stashing them.

Today I decided to go through them and pair (pare? I think pare) down what I want to keep. I can be brutal with this kind of thing - I'm no hoarder - but it was hard. I've kept anything particularly moving (to me, not in the traditional sense), and went through the rest of my correspondence. All letters and postcards I've received at random have been kept - mostly just un-cancery stuff actually. I love getting random postcards and letters and intend to do more sending.

That should be easy, as I've sorted all my unwritten cards and postcards as well - I admit I may have a bit of a Paperchase problem. I'm known for buying cards long before a birthday is due (hate me if you must - I've started Xmas shopping) and forgetting them when the time comes. Or just buying cards I fall in love with. I counted 21 cards and even more postcards totally untouched. That's got to count as at least a £60 investment, surely?

The whole thing made me smile as it reminded me of my ex, who opened his birthday cards over the bin every year (only opened in case there was a cheque) and unceremoniously dropped each one with a snort. Sweet guy, unapologetic about some of his... Idiosyncrasies.

Handwritten letters, thinking of the ex, finding a TV show I think is based on a book from my teens - let's call me 16 today.

16-32-64 twenty-five

Today the girls and I decided I need to try the following meats as I've never gotten around to tasting them, and I do so love being carnivorous:
partridge
pheasant
venison
rabbit
kangaroo
crocodile or alligator
ostrich

The last three I think I've eaten in Aussie-themed bar/restaurants in the past - but I don't think it really counts when you've had it in a burger cooked by a teenager.

A few less common things I have tasted in the past include octopus, shark and lobster; goat curry, four kinds of Argentinian steak (we love Gaucho), cactus and a variety of fish raw (as I'm a sushi fan). I had a full roast dinner in a sundae glass at Meat Mission once, and I'm a big fan of snails. Or anything cooked in garlic butter really. But I do enjoy snails for what they are as well.

Oh, and haggis - which I don't really count as it... never settled in my stomach. Never again.

Top of my food list at the moment is poutine (French Canadian gravy chips & cheese curd) - a little research seems to show the best place to go in London is The Poutinerie stall near Brick Lane on a Sunday - so I guess that's next weekend sorted.

Ooooh and wandering the web, this place looks interesting; Archipelago "serving crocodile, wildebeest, garlic crickets and scorpion" - I'll have to add that to my pintrest board of restaurants to visit. I've had to separate it from my existing "amazing food places" to keep track of where I have and haven't been. I love my food, can you tell?

I was going to talk about my lovely day eating noodles and brownies and gossiping; but that's pretty much my life now and nothing unusual. Chatting with my dad this morning; I haven't found my 'new normal' since my diagnosis (despite it being a full 19 months ago) but I have found ways to 'keep busy' and I appear to have turned into a 'lady what lunches'. Things have changed too much and too rapidly to settle into a pattern, but I hope to get there. I hope to find one for my 'lifestyle' in the way that I have for treatment. But as ever, treatment could change at the next set of scans (or sooner) so how do I even begin to settle?

Lastly - oh! pain. My hand went into spasm earlier and I had to get P to wrench my thumb straight while I held the rest of the fingers down. I need to chase the GP about that Gabapentin prescription, as this isn't a funny tingling or occasional cramp any more. 

16-32-64 twenty-four

I've just posted what has been a draft entry for about two weeks now - originally written 17th July. My dad has been diagnosed with prostate cancer and we're all still trying to get used to - and work out how best to share - the news. It's been an interesting couple of weeks, but he feels like an okay time to share past the first 'concentric circle' of immediate family, so I'm able to share here.

I love the theory of concentric circles of support - it's something we talk about often and had really become important with the last two years. It's not just a case of "knowing who your friends are" but much more those you could ring in the middle of the night. That would cancel a date night to sit and eat pizza with you. That would cook your favourite meal and not complain of you couldn't eat it. 

There aren't many of those in my life - I'm sure not many in anyone's to be honest. It's good to consider these things though, as it makes you more grateful.

I'm on my way to meet Pip and Jacqueline - the latter of which has blog Brainweasel. These are people I can be tired with; I can be honest with, and still enjoy lunch and cake without feeling guilty!

16-32-64 fourteen-point-five

Delayed post from 17th July 2015:

So my dad received a diagnosis of prostate cancer today. This entry won't be going live until the news is public, but I feel like writing so it can live in my drafts for the time being.

A whole new world of learning ahead of us - and starting over with telling people bad news. The worst part for him - having been surprisingly prepared for bad news - is going to be telling my brother and uncle. Prostate cancer is hormonal and therefore genetic links are very possible. My brother at 36 won't need to worry yet, but uncle T at 57 will need to get the PSA blood test and be closely monitored from now onward. As if our lives aren't full of enough worries.

In the last couple of weeks following a elevated PSA test (blood test that simply says "prostate needs further investigation"), Pops been through multiple tests and a horrific sounding biopsy procedure with one more to follow - a CT scan to check the abdomen. I'd convinced myself there were too many other things this could be and when there was only one person in the room calling us in - I thought we were home-free. Not so much.

The level of cancer is showing at a middle-seriousness; with quite an aggressive character. It showed up in all twelve of the biopsies (on an organ the size of two walnuts - I was surprised there was enough tissue!) and is currently showing in one lymph node, meaning it has started to spread but not yet made it to bones and organs yet. The CT next week should confirm this - he's had a bone scan but they need to double check. If it had been in less biopsies and not the lymph node they may have chosen to operate (he has COPD as well which increases risk, so this may not have been an option anyway). If the cancer was further advanced and spread, chemotherapy would have been suggested and - from what I can tell from his opinion of it - declined. That leaves us with the middle ground of hormonal treatments - which starts with a month of tablets once the CT scan is done - and radiotherapy.

Radiotherapy has been the easiest part of my experience so far, but the way they apply it to secondary breast cancer bone mets is completely different from the way my dad's experience will be. For bones, you get a blast, or two (or in the case of my vertebrae which were positively crumbling, eight sessions) on a very specific spot. They take about fifteen minutes each and are painless. For my brain the sessions were even faster - I think four minutes each - and the worst part for me has always been lying perfectly still on my back, as the beds are metal and flat which isn't good for anyone with bone mets in their back!

For prostate cancer we've been told he'll be facing 7-12 weeks of five days a week visits. This should - with the hormonal treatments - shrink the cancer right back down to a minimum and stop it from spreading and becoming secondary. However, it's already considered incurable, because they can't do surgery which I guess is the only way of removing all the effected tissue. So we're using the term 'incurable, not terminal' because it may yet not be the thing most likely to kill him. Damn it's lucky we both have a sense of humour about this - we've already joked about being in the race 'to go first'. Dark dark dark humour.

So, the next stages are CT scan, GP appointment to start the hormonal meds and then meeting the Oncologist at the Marsden who will be in charge of his care. There was some discussion of having his care transferred to GSTT where I am treated, but once we heard about the radiotherapy planning, it makes no sense to drag him into town daily for months when he could get public transport and - as the fatigue and side effects kick in - get cabs from home in much better time. He also identified that he likes the idea of the dividing line between his appointments and mine being at different locations, which I really understand and support. Hopefully his regular Oncology clinic appointments won't clash with mine on a Monday morning - anything else can be moved if necessary.

That feels like everything for the time being - I'm in a bit of shock and denial still at the moment but the news will settle in over the next few days and I'll feel better once the news is known to others - knowing something so big that my siblings - particularly my brother - don't know yet is very odd. The next few days have intermittent plans, so we'll see how I get on with energy levels after a decent night sleep.

16-32-64 twenty-three

With all the support in the world - my incredible family, a group I attend on Tuesdays, online group for women up and down the county, plus more medics than you could ask for... I still feel like I would like someone to "go through" this with. Someone at exactly the kind and stage with the same mets and the same meds - just so I can say - is this normal? Should we be this tired / sore / grumpy? I feel like I spend a lot of my time wondering what's normal - the problem is that everything is normal. Everything is accepted and I don't know how to pick a standard to aim for.

Fatigue and tiredness. Aches and pains. Chemo brain, loss of concentration, lack of interest. These are all things I have and sometimes fight - sometimes worry over and sometimes give in to completely. I wish I had a twin - or a clone? Who I could say, "if we push ourselves today, will we regret it?" and watch her go ahead to test. Can she concentrate on reading? Am I just being lazy or is it a real symptom of the chemo?

What's normal? Everything - that's what you're told when it's cancer. You're going through a very tough time, treatment - even well-tolerated is tough on the body and mind. Live day-to-day. Give yourself a break. Worry less.

I do. I worry less than I ever have. My mental health is better than ever and I can't remember feeling angry about anything for a long time. But I'm 32 and that: that isn't normal.