I post to my Facebook wall:
Dear Right Breast,
I'm very disappointed in you. I thought we were friends. Did I ever insult you? No, I think you'll find I was rather nice to you, and have appreciated you for most of my adult life. If you don't count those awkward teen years, at least, and honestly, I thought we were over that. You never looked the sort to hold a grudge, but obviously I misjudged you.
All of which begs the question: why are you trying to kill me?
You just wait, bee-atch. I'll show you who's boss.
Yours sincerely,
Gilly xx
I feel a little stronger today, but it's fragile. I keep forgetting, for very short periods, that I have cancer. I get on with the busyness of life - shopping, playing with my son - and then it hits me again, and every time it does, a profound exhaustion washes over me and I have to sleep.
I think my brain is shutting down, to avoid dealing with this. I can't say I blame it.
