Job satisafaction

Where to start today?  Do I just ignore that niggly little butterfly in my stomach and carry on like normal?  Everything is carrying on as normal around me.  Ian is working flat out - no staff on to help this week end (WHY?) and the children are completely oblivious which is obviously a good thing although perhaps I should sit down with them at some point today to warn them that Mummy may not be feeling 100% this week.  Mind you, judging by how "well" Poppy took the news that my hair is going to fall out, maybe not...

Or do I admit that I am a little bit nervous? 

It is hardly a good selling point that they list 101 possible side effects, none of which would be a symptom of choice.  Or that before they even start infusing the chemo drugs they give you half an hour of anti nausea drugs.  Or that they threaten you regularly with making sure you never ignore a temperature of 37.5C or above.  I never take my temperature.  I know when I feel rough through illness.  I do take the children's temperature if I think they feel a bit hot or are not very well and sometimes even when they are grumpy and irritable to see if it could be an explanation!  Apparently it is too late once I start feeling rough - I need to make sure I catch it sooner than that.  Easy.

I think the two members of the family who are going to take it the hardest are Bovril and Bisto.  They are used to being able to cuddle me pretty much when they feel like it and they usually follow me EVERYWHERE!  At times Bisto is like a toddler who will never let you out of his sight.  If I am standing at the kitchen unit he lies on my feet.  I leave the kitchen to go to the loo and before I am even seated he has pushed the door open, sits down and watches, leaving only once I am fully clothed again and walking out.  I honestly thought that now Popps and Alf had grown out of this stage, I may once again be able to do things on my own again.  But, no. 

I think I have touched on the subject of treatment for cancer being like pregnancy before.  If not, here goes: everyone has some knowledge of it or they know someone who has been treated for it, whether it was someone very close to them or their Great Aunt's sister-in-law's dog-sitter's brother-in-law's third wife's sixth ex-husband.  Sadly most people are not so lucky as to have only ever had such a distant contact with this horrifically common disease but you get my drift.  Anyway, back to the point I was making - everyone thinks they have the right to tell you the side effects suffered by themselves or their contact with loads of helpful hints on how to deal with them (some of which are quite frankly ludicrous) but most of which are taken on board and stored away, for example, eat strong mints to take away the revolting taste of the drugs (no, they are not oral but believe me, if the dye for the CT scan was anything to go by the taste enters your mouth instantly!)  And when I was initially struggling with the concept of having poisonous chemicals injected into my bloodstream, a fellow survivor (of 19 years) said she visualised it as Pacman whizzing round her body eating up any rogue cancer cells.  What a star.  I don't think she will ever realise how much that one comment helped me start to deal with my fear. 

The interesting part will be later this week when I have to inject myself every day with immunity boosting drugs which will stimulate my bone marrow to make more white cells.  I am a self confessed needle phobe.  It is very comforting how many people, either with or without any medical expertise, have offered to come and inject me.  Or maybe not!It depends on how kindly the offer was made and how much gleam was in the offerors eyes!  Ian offered but was turned down.  I have seen how the average cow is injected, you give it a good slap on the arse then stab the needle in.  Enough said. 

One cow who deserves a good injection is Daniel.  Typical that my last chance of helping with the stock checking was hampered by an all out search round all the local roads and fields and even along the canal tow path for a bull that had vanished from his field, only for him to reappear half an hour later.  Not a very satisfying job.

Do you know what?  Even if I am nervous, it is essential that I do this because I intend to be here for loads more years.  In fact I celebrate every time Poppy tells me I am annoying her.  I feel I am doing my job properly and spurs me on to fight through this and carry on annoying her for many years to come.

That is job satisfaction.