Scan day 2016.

This morning I had my annual 'toe ring removal' panic, but it came off quite easily when I actually tried. And the whole day seemed to follow that example - things are far more frightening in the run up, but you just get on with it when you have to. And then it's done.

Since my last scan I had a fragment of metal stuck in my eye (don't ask, I don't know) which I ignored for quite a few weeks until it got nice and rusty and I had to have it scraped out over several sessions. Horrible as this was, it didn't occur to me, until I was in the waiting room this morning, what it would mean to have a piece of metal in my eye. They gave me an x-ray to make sure (thank you thank you NHS) and of course it was all fine. Just another thing to stress about.

And then there I was again, ears stuffed with plugs and sponges, knees resting on a pillow (new design from last year - very comfortable!) and my head lost in an oversized clanging washing machine for an indeterminable amount of time. Which was fine when I got there. I quite enjoyed the lying down part actually.

That might be because yesterday I got a bit drunk which is a rare occasion for me these days. I thought it would distract me and help me sleep. It did distract me for a bit, but sleep was not having any of it. Sleep doesn't like alcohol, or brain scans. So I woke up really early and fretted. The kids slept until after 8am, MIRACLE, so I caught up on some of yesterday's Olympics on my own on the sofa feeling sorry for myself. It was really nice.

Incidentally, I was thinking earlier. I wish I'd done one of those fashion blog things, of scan day attire, from the very beginning - I'd have quite a collection by now. It still causes me a lot of anxiety planning what to wear (mostly because I would rather do most things than go out in public not wearing a bra). And I already can't remember what I wore in the early days.

For future reference, today I sported some hareem pants, a long vest and short floppy top and a ridiculous sports type bra thing. I took a normal bra with me to immediately change into afterwards.

Anyway.

Two things worry me about scan days. One is that I feel glum and tetchy and defensive. I am rude and thoughtless and I blame it on the scan and get away with it. I know I shouldn't do this but I still do, which really annoys me. I feel like after all this time I should just get on with it, but instead I take advantage of scan day to get a bit more attention than normal. I should just grow up and stop whingeing.

The other thing is that deep down, I don't think there is anything wrong. (Hence why I shouldn't be moping around). So if it turns out there is actually something wrong then I am woefully unprepared for it, mentally. And then the doubts start to creep in, just to mentally prepare in case, and then I really am a bit jittery and emotional and we haven't even left the house yet.

I hate scan day. It forces me to think about things I don't want to think about. And it forces me to contemplate different potential futures and it makes me selfish and introspected and a total bore.

And it is so lonely. No matter how many people you have waiting outside (and I was lucky to have loads today, singing "if you're happy and you know it" so loud I could hear it during the x-ray") you still have to do the scan alone. Nobody else is in that room. And it's so lonely in my thoughts too. Not for the first time, I wish I could swap brains.

Roll on results day HA. Not.

Hi ho, hi ho. Sob.

I'm going back to work tomorrow, after almost a year on maternity leave. Before that I was pregnant whilst recovering from brain surgery. And before that I was off sick for multiple months. It's been an odd few years and work has not really been a priority.

I've been in denial for ages about it. It's not that I don't want to work it's just that I don't want to not be with Alfred. I will miss him, and I will miss out on him. I won't be the one that sees him develop and knows what he likes. It's selfish, but I like being that person. The one who knows him best.

I know he will be fine. Of course he will be fine. But I worry that he will think I have abandoned him, and I worry that he won't notice I'm not around any more. And I worry that nobody will care as much as me and I worry that I won't be in control anymore. And mostly I worry that I will hardly ever see him.

But my bag is packed,  my office appropriate clothes are washed and my lunch is ready in the fridge. There's no denying it now.

I don't want to go to bed as that means morning will come quicker.

Stupid brain.

And so it begins. I have become incredibly skilled at compartmentalising worry. I used to be a right worrier, always planning and worrying. Worrying and planning. What if I'm late? What if I've got the wrong present? What if it rains? What if my brain tumour grows back?

I have learnt to let go of the worry by either working through the logic (take an umbrella, nobody will die) or by accepting there is nothing I can do about it (I might die, how will worrying help?). 

But sometimes I just worry. Before I've remembered that I don't worry anymore. 

Yesterday I got a migraine. Not like the ones I had during pregnancy, when a few paracetamols and a bit of sleep would sort it out. One like I used to get, back when I had a brain tumour. 

In the depths of a migraine it's difficult to act normally. The all encompassing pain, disorientating loss of vision, the full body sickness and something else indescribable makes me not quite function properly. I can't make decisions, I forget which drugs to take, I fumble and mumble and worry. This canNOT be normal. 

And so it begins. 

With the darkness surrounding the episode I am hardly at my most rational. I'll be fine tomorrow but I wanted to capture it. It's back, I can tell. I'm going to walk over the road and ask nicely for an MRI. Then I'll know. I'll be able to see a big white blob. A reason, an answer, everything fitting neatly into boxes with answers and solutions. (Although let's not think too much about solutions.)

I know it's ridiculous. But The Feeling is back, the gnawing, dawning, whining worry I must ignore to carry on. 

Roll on tomorrow, and normality. 

Ah yes, and HNY everyone, may 2014 treat you kindly xx

My one monthiversary.

Suddenly it's one month since surgery. Wow.

I'm celebrating, on my own, in bed, with a migraine. I'm really disappointed. I knew it was a long shot but I was really hoping that the tumour had been the cause of my migraines.

Rubbish.

Meh.

Feeling a bit down today.

It's like, when everyone goes off to work and college and I'm left to my own devices, I am not doing anything constructive. Yesterday I watched IACGMOOT on catch up. It really made me laugh (although it's disturbing that their bandanas are the same as my favourite headscarf). Then I ate some crisps, had a sleep on the sofa, read Heat magazine. I didn't have a shower or manage to get out of my pyjamas and slippers all day. I didn't do anything of value.

And my hair looks ridiculous.

When there's nobody else here I don't have any will power. And I feel a bit guilty for doing shit all. Like watching rubbish telly and eating crisps! (It's not rubbish, it's brilliant. Love Ant and Dec). I'm just wasting the days away. I think it's the guilt more than anything that is getting to me.

And the fact that I feel a bit aimless. Long term, there are loads of things to look forward to, but in the short term I'm just trying to get through the day for the sake of getting through the day.

Hopefully it's just a blip, I'm sure it is. I didn't do any of the things on my list yesterday, and I know it would make me feel better to do something constructive, but I just don't have the motivation. Or energy, it feels too much like hard work.

I suppose it's only been two days, I'll do something constructive soon - maybe after I've watched last night's IACGMOOH...

Nothing.

It's been easy to write so far. I've had things I want to write about, but I knew this would happen.

When I'm feeling down I generally just go into hibernation until its over. Then write about it briefly, no one wants to read about being down. Least of all me. There's nothing to write when you're down.

But, in thinking this in the early hours of the morning (when I write in my head for later), I realised there was in fact a point to writing down that I had nothing to write down. Firstly to log it and remain true to why I am doing this. And secondly to look at it objectively.

Then I had something to write about, and immediately I feel better.

Why am I down? It just doesn't make sense. But then when I think about it there are reasons: I feel exhausted all the time and it's frustrating. I feel guilty and dependent for everything that everyone's doing for me. I'm covered in weird spots, as if I don't look like a freak enough already. I'm bloated and uncomfortable. And I feel guilty for feeling down.

Which leads me on to why I'm still really lucky. Nothing has changed, I just had a bad day. Not even day, couple of hours. To be expected. And just like that, I've typed my way out of it.

Feel better now.

Thunderbolt of panic.

Ah, and there it is.

Always expected but never anticipated, who knows where it comes from. I made a will today. I've been meaning to for absolutely years and this has just given me the motivation to finally get around to it but it does feel a bit morbid. And it's scary seeing your "last will and testament" bound on a table. Sheesh.

I think that probably didn't help.

But the panic just hit out of the blue. One minute I'm on the sofa, niece playing on the floor, really lovely day and suddenly I'm in tears, imagining I'm dead and everyone's just having to deal with it. It comes on so fast that I couldn't explain it if I wanted to and I have no idea if anyone's even noticed that I'm crying. I'm not even crying for me, it's like it's a film and it's really sad.

All the stuff I've been through and the crap and the misery and the growing up. It would be sad to die now that I'm in this awesome place and not have the opportunity to enjoy it for longer. Now I've finally got here.

I am actually thinking of my life in terms of a film. I should really stop doing that because its the chick flicks making me cry, not reality. It's your fault Kate Hudson.

A funny old day.

I had a really good chat with Oliver tonight before he went to chestershire club, and it just reminded me how incredibly lucky I am to be surrounded by brilliant people. Talking, honestly, can solve anything.

Anyway, in this really good chat, I was explaining to Oliver how I have been so up and down all day. About three times each I think, really quite a yoyo. I started off feeling this was totally unreasonable, as well as annoying as I just can't keep track of myself and control it. But then I realised actually that today has been a really big day in terms of news. And I think that it's all coming out now. I am panicking, big time. And that's a good thing.

I'm really glad Olly was at the hospital with me. It was useful to get his opinion of what happened this morning to overlay on my own thoughts. It turns out we were both quite shocked at how negative the news was, when we'd been really led to believe so far that it wasn't so bad. Now I know the worst, nothing has changed in reality, but it seems much more real. I am really very scared now.

I have been thinking a lot about how the next week will be and I think the panic will now grow right up until surgery. There is just too much to think about. I think I am more worried about how worried I will be in the run up, and how that will manifest itself.

So the learning for today is that it's ok to have an up and down day, when I've been dealing with new information and shock.  But tomorrow I would like to be a bit more stable (less panic, less crying) and more calm.

Also - unconnected - I've been reading some Sam Harris about lying which is really good. But hard to implement. Love it though.

Still on the hair.

It's been a few days now. Some people I know have seen it, lots of people I don't know have seen it but I'm very aware there is still a bit unveiling to do for most people.

What I wrote last week seems to have been a good talking point so far too, which is interesting. I'm glad I wrote it as that is how I was feeling at the time, but I'm not sure I have quite got my point across yet. Everyone seems to be more worried now about whether I think they'll be telling the truth about whether it looks good or not.

The thing is, I don't really care. It sounds mean, but it's not really what other people think that bothers me. Well, obviously I dont want people to think that I look stupid, but it's not actually my primary concern.

And it isn't that I think people are lying when they say it looks ok, I just think given the context there isn't another choice. I don't think it's untrue, it just doesn't hold much weight.

What is really bothering me about the hair is that I don't feel like me. I don't hate it - I can see that it's not terrible. I just didn't choose this and I would never have chosen this. I don't feel like it represents me and I don't feel like me. 

That's it really.

Well actually there is another element, and it's just the big reveal. I know when everyone has seen it and got used to it it will be just normal again. Hopefully for me too. But until that happens I will need to go through many meetings and many comments and compliments and many conversations about it. Really I wish it was totally invisible, that it wasn't important. But for some reason it is.

At least it's all short term though. Soon everyone will have seen it. In fact soon it will all be shaved off anyway, so actually this is all totally irrelevant.

Brilliant. Have only just realised that. What a waste of agonising.

So sorry for myself.

Being wide awake at half five in the morning is actually getting quite annoying now. People should write more on Facebook at 5 in the morning. Just for my benefit.

I'm having a down day. Or two. Maybe it a weekend thing as it happened last weekend too. So far I have waited it out before writing about it but there's nothing else to do and it might actually help.

Feeling very contrary. And irritable. If someone encourages me to rest it annoys me and I want to prove I'm fine to do things. And if they try to encourage me to do things I'm annoyed that I'm not getting more sympathy and doting. Basically I am being very attention seeking.

I'm boring myself even.

So I'm back in bed on my own feeling sorry for myself. I don't want to see anyone or talk to anyone. I don't want to get dressed or go out I just want to lie here feeling sorry for myself. And then write about it. Oh deary me.

It's really stupid as well because its the weekend and people are actually around. Tomorrow I'll be back on my own with no one around and then I'll really feel sorry for myself. 

And I've got period pains.

And a headache.

OK I'm done now. I do actually feel a bit better for writing all that down.

A wobble.

Had another wobble today. After a lively morning of visitors everybody left at once and then I watched a chick flick film, which predictably set me off.

All that kept going round in my head was "I don't want to have an operation". Luckily Oliver came home and snapped me out if it but I guess it's actually a good sign, as well as a bit of a relief, that my denial might finally be crumbling a bit.

I didn't get any sleep last night so I'm sure that didn't help.

After a sleepless night.

Having a bit of a downer at the moment and I'm not sure why.

I can still see all the positives, and still feel really lucky. Just feel a bit aimless too. I'm crying in bed while Olly's asleep and I don't even know why. I'm easily distracted by playing a game but then it just starts again when I finish.

It's made me look at my life and see how great it is. I couldn't be in better position. I have found the best person in the planet and he wants to be with me, I still can't believe my luck. I have a great job that is challenging and well paid. We have a beautiful house and the most amazing supportive friends, and don't get me started on family. I just can't believe how I've landed so well on my feet.

So why am I crying? It's ridiculous.