I have decided to do a short pictorial update instead of a lengthy wordy one, because I had to actually get my hair cut last week, and also I was carrying a lot of stuff in my handbag. Mostly I am procrastinating on writing the proper update. I’ve been busy writing up a 12 minute talk that I’m doing tomorrow at the Peter Mac about the sleep group I attended, and also my speech last week at work about the…
(Original title – Gilderoy Lockhart) Do you know what really grinds my gears? Watching TV shows and movies about cancer, where people have perfectly smooth bald heads because “chemo”, and they keep all of their eyelashes which are coated in layers of mascara and super long and beautiful, and the most perfect eyebrows to frame their faces. It really gives me the shits. They also get away with not being bloated from medication, without looking completely dead in the eyes,…
(Original title – The Whomping Willow) Here’s the rundown on how today went with my oopherecomy and bonus D&C. I arrived at the Peter Mac 15 minutes before I was due to check in because I wanted to avoid being late since I was scolded for it last time (which I guess should have been the indicator that things were gonna go to shit). I check in, go upstairs to level 6 where day surgery is, and wait. For 45…
(Original title: At Flourish and Blotts) I forget how I actually stumbled across the original of this, but I saw it and thought I would list a glossary of cancer terms related to mutant mammaries for everyone to gain a better understanding of medical terminology that I might occasionally use. Acute – rapidly developing, generally short lasting. Not to be confused with “oh, that’s a cute haircut!” Alternative Therapy – all of that dumb shit that people reckon “cures…
(Original title – The Burrow) So, this should have been an update about my surgery and recovery going well and blah blah blah. Instead, this will be a story of how cancer does not go to plan. On Wednesday, I went to see my oncologist. It had been four weeks since I’d last seen her properly for an appointment, and she needed to review my blood work and check out my rack and give me an opportunity to speak to…
(Original title – The Worst Birthday) The one thing I did when I found out that I would be having session number seven of Chemo was check when session number eight might be, and book flights to Adelaide for the weekend afterwards. Come hell or high water, I was going to get the fuck out of Melbourne for a few days and pretend like I wasn’t sick for a while. I had a pretty stressful pre-flight episode when I left…