Home is where the hovel is

 I got out of the hospital on Friday evening- I felt like I'd been reprieved!! I was too tired to blog. In fact, I was too tired to eat!! I think I managed a cup of tea and a few glasses of water, and had an early night.

My last few days in the hospital were-well, interesting, and enlightening, and I'm surprised I haven't copped it from food poisoning. People kept asking why I wasn't eating-I would point to the food and say, by way of an obvious answer: "would you"? It's so nice to be able to eat things I recognize!!

A nurse came in on Thursday and told me that she knew exactly how I felt. I asked whether she'd had a double mastectomy. If you had seen her face!! She was confused...she said, no, she'd had knee surgery. Cartilage. I couldn't be bothered to even argue the point. I'm past arguing the fact that the only people who would know how I was feeling would be the people who had actually been through the same surgery. Lesson learned: never tell someone you know how they feel unless you have been there yourself. Should be obvious-but it isn't. People try to be sympathetic, they only succeed in pissing me off!!

Something that really got my back up was the slogan thing. Every cause has a slogan. Fine, if it is an intelligent one! But one of the cancer charities has now decided to put "cancer, we are coming to get you" on t-shirts. Is that a bit dumb, or what? We're coming to get you-and then what? Take you shopping? To the movies? To lunch? Does it make sense? No, it just stinks of desperation and false bravado. I can say that-since it is all about breast cancer, and now I can say been there, done it, have the huge scars and black and blues to prove it. And I'm still not finished; I won't have the histology report until Tuesday afternoon, so I don't know if I will need further treatment. I only know that I will need to take tablets every day for the next five years (as if I'm not taking enough already; so what's one more to add to the mix? Turn me upside down, shake, and I will rattle).

Oh, and the other inane t-shirt reads "cancer, we are taking you down". Down where, exactly? To the pub? Excuse me!! It's cancer that comes to "get us", and "take us down", not the other way around. According to the oncologist, 38% of people in this country are living with some form of cancer. That's a lot of people!! Sounds pretty much like in the cancer stakes, it's 1-0, and cancer is ahead.

If they are going to have a slogan, it seems to me that it should be an intelligent one. It should be short and sweet (well, maybe not sweet), should be brief, honest, and tell it like it is (like me, but without the sweet!LOL). Do I have one? Well, obviously!! And here is one I prepared earlier: Cancer sucks!!

That is it, that is my slogan. Why? Because it does, that's why. And everyone knows what it means. I think I should have that put on a t-shirt. Maybe on tea towels. Oven gloves. Tracksuits. Calendars. And, of course, let us not forget the bumper sticker!!! What a great bumper sticker that would make. Everyone would have one on their car. It beats the hell out of "I just made it through eigth grade", or "I got through sixth form and didn't stab anyone", or "I live in Essex. Don't drive near me, I've got the IQ and driving ability of a two year old". Of course, there is everyone's favorite: "eat horsemeat. What do you think happens to horses when they die? What do you think is in your burger?"

See that? Another problem solved!!

Anybody who might have considered robbing my flat would have thought that someone had already robbed it before them. My place looks like it has been hit by a couple of grenades. It should be condemned. Actually, there is so much damp and mould, it should have been condemned years ago. I wonder how many people turned it down before I had to take it (take it or risk staying in a lovely, privately rented duplex flat with stairs I kept falling down-risking skull fractures, so there's the answer as to why).

I just want to blitz every room, and start throwing stuff out, putting other stuff away, making charity shops very happy with so much stuff I neither want nor use. But I am only one week out of surgery, so I have been warned to behave myself and not lift anything heavier than a lettuce leaf (dressing on it is okay, I presume).

I had a bit of a funny turn last night, and I'm sure that most (maybe all) women who have had mastectomies feel the same way at some time or another: I got very depressed, and I looked at myself in the mirror (always unwise anyway) and decided that I have been mutilated. For life. It was a very unpleasant feeling. I have really tried very hard to be upbeat and optimistic, and the feeling of "oh my god" came out of the blue and hit hard. I decided to put it down to the fact that I took myself off morphine when I left the hospital. They gave me a week's supply (and it was only 5ml, not like I was shooting up), but I decided not to take any. It helped the pain, but made me glassy-eyed. I'm dizzy enough as it is, I don't need more help!!

So, there we go...I've started walking more, and I will do some more, then - I'm going to lie down!! After all, I only had major surgery last week. I had cancer.

And, unless someone tells me differently on Tuesday, I don't have it any more!! Yippee!!!!