Next chapter.

I've only flipping gone and done it - I am officially, and voluntarily, unemployed. Soon to be self employed. This may be what's known as a midlife crisis. Eek.

People often ask me if having kids has changed me. I mostly say no, I'm still me underneath, just more tired and a even more bedraggled, if that was ever possible. But I'm starting to notice that actually I have changed. I'm not so sure it's down to having kids, or even braingate, so much as just getting older.

I often find myself not giving much of a shit about things that would have previously bothered me. Like sitting in a pub on my own. Or having clean hair. I mean *not* having clean hair... what's clean hair? But at the same time I have become weirdly focussed on things that I care about.

Nowadays, I care about my children and spending time with them. But a lot of what I really like doing with them is expensive. It's sitting around with our friends in cafes and pubs and groups where they jump around and exhaust themselves. It's getting pizza for lunch and going to the London Transport Museum. It's buying comedy mini clothing and brand name trainers. (Guilty).

So I need to work. Not just to pay for all that stuff, but also to keep me sane. I love being useful at things and adding value, but only some of the time because I really, really want to see my children at least three days out of the week. Ok, four.

Having initially found my employer wasn't too keen on me only working three out of five days, I focussed on finding a way to go it alone, as a contractor. My plan was to earn a shed load of money - full time if I needed to - on an astronomical day rate, then take some time out of work to dally around in the cafes of Camberwell. So I gung-ho-style handed in my notice.

THREE MONTHS down the line, and I have finally left.

I have always been the most risk-averse person I know, except for Dad, so I'm not quite sure how I managed to convince myself to do this, and why I'm not more terrified. I have changed. The things that matter to me now, matter more than anything has ever mattered, and that makes the risk worthwhile. I am more confident, more willing to go for what I really want and genuinely excited that things are about to be very different. (And I'm also a little bit terrified...)

Hit me up if you need any freelance writing or project / change management doing :)

Work rant.

Since I've been off on maternity leave, work has been playing on my mind. There is a massive global "company restructure" in the offing, and whole departments have been demolished. My department. And my team has already limped into obscurity. I thought it was odd my role didn't warrant maternity cover, and then my boss got "reassigned" just before I finished. That left one person... who subsequently moved on within weeks. So I'm waiting for a phone call.

I think it's unlikely I'll be made redundant, but given that I don't technically have a job right now I've been doing some thinking. What would I choose to do - if I had the chance to completely start again?

I'm dead jealous of Olly, he loves his job and has a great time doing it. He's so passionate about it he would rather work than be on holiday. I'd like to do something like that, if only I could discover what I enjoy.

I love being at home with Alfred. We've had such a good three months, way better than I was expecting, and I was expecting it to be pretty good too. We've done so many things and met so many people. Everywhere we go people want to know about him. And he smiles at everyone. He's great. And I don't want to miss any of his growing up.

Having said that... I miss work. I miss being on time and in control. And busy in a way that isn't to do with housework. Also, it's still a novelty (not being at work) which may well start to wear off soon.

How to combine both? (And earn enough to live on?)

Seeing as the movie rights to my life haven't been sold yet, and this blog doesn't make any money, and I can't think of a creative idea to write a book about, I'm going to have to do something employment wise. I've been looking around at ideas and I think I've had a good one. Not for me, but a company called Pepperberry. They specialise in making clothes for women with bigger boobs.

Rant warning! Coming up, a big old rant.

I contacted them last week with this idea which I thought was a no brainer, annoyingly they don't seem to understand and aren't interested in listening. The whole experience made me feel really helpless and frustrated. If this was my company I would jump at the chance to talk to people who want to contribute ideas. In this case I got stuck at the first line: customer service.

My idea is this. When people have a baby, they make loads of milk and consequently their boobs get bigger. If they breastfeed then this could be a long (ish) term effect (enough for them to have to buy new clothes to fit). This is potentially huge for Pepperberry, they get extra spend from existing customers as their size has changed, and they get incremental spend from brand new customers catapulted into the bigger boobed bracket.

We are now officially in a baby boom so this could be a big market. And in general the age that women have babies is being polarised, either really young, or (I hesitate to say really) old. Like me. I'm old enough to have a good job (still, hopefully) and enough money to buy nursing clothes.

Except - and here is the killer - they're isn't much out there to be found.

Pepperberry already specialise in one of the two requirements - clothes for bigger boobs. All that's missing is the ability to breastfeed in these clothes. No. Brainer.

My first reply from them explained that "Unfortunately we have no current plans to expand our range of styles to cater for maternity swimwear at present and I realise this will be disappointing for you". Well yes, I am disappointed - you clearly didn't read the email I spent ages composing. Maternity? Swimwear? Where did you get that from?

So I sent a quick reply just to clear things up, but didn't get any further. 

On the plus side, the whole experience made me realise something. Strategically, for Pepperberry, this would have been a good move to make (I believe), and setting it up would be a challenge. I would love to be involved in it. It made me see that I'd like to have a more strategic role, to be involved in something more fully, rather than just being a little cog sitting at a desk.

So I'm still thinking.

Stranger than fiction.

Last night I dreamt about going into surgery. Now that it's happened I realise it's a surprise that I haven't been dreaming of it all along. It wasn't a nightmare, or particularly scary, just all the mundane things I had to do to get ready to go in. 

I was really annoyed that someone wanted to use the plastic bag I planned to pack my underwear in...

Anyway.

It's not really surprising that it's in my subconscious now. I've been talking about it a lot over the one year mark. And I've also been in touch with a few people who are going through it right now. Weird how it all happens at once, I didn't hear from anyone all year and then a few all within a week. 

So I read some of the old posts back to see what they had been reading, and it's so strange to try and remember what that all felt like. It's mad, that I went through that. I don't really think about it any more, and when I do it's like telling a fictional story. Not a reality that was my life. It was surreal at the time, but even now it is no less surreal.

Reading it back is fascinating! I can see what everyone was going on about now, even though I find it quite cringe worthy.

Reading it last thing before going to sleep (ha, what is sleep please?) obviously planted it in my brain. But interestingly this dream wasn't about the surgery I had, it was a new one. People were commiserating that I had to do it again. I hope this isn't the start of me worrying about it growing back.

Nothing much to report. Funtimes.

Some really cool stuff has been going down recently, which has meant that I have nothing to write about. No tortured thoughts, no massive quandaries, just plain old fun.

Firstly, I went on holiday. Like, a sunny one with a pool. It was great. Loads of family together and we ate so much food and lay around in the sun I can't remember the last time I did that. We did do some culture type things too, but it was the lying down bit that I liked best.

Then it was my birthday. Which was nice. I managed to drag it out for quite a while and despite not being able to do my usual drinking binge it was really very good. Lots of family time and getting my own way. For a change :)

And then, I got a letter from the DVLA, giving me permission to drive! The letter is proof (of permission) to tide me over until I get my licence back. It took a bit of chasing but eventually it arrived, and I could drive again. Hurray! Incidentally, isn't it weird how you don't forget how to drive? I've been quite impressed with my multitasking. Feet just do things without me telling them to. I'm still finding it a bit tricky to work the wind screen wipers though.

And on top of all that, the weather has been lovely and we've had a few bbq's in the garden and seen loads of friends and made loads of plans. We even went to the cinema last week for the first time since surgery. I found it a bit too loud to be honest (and way expensive, when did that happen?), but it felt like a milestone.  

AND oh my God I almost forgot - we're getting a dishwasher delivered on Saturday. The rest of the day will be known as dishwasher day minus five. Get in.

This must be quite dull as posts go, but everything seems to be swimming along fine for now, which surely must be worth making a note of.

Reading and thinking.

A couple of things I've been reading recently have made me think. I have an obsession with reading news so this happens a lot.

Firstly the Boston bombings. In the following few days I read an article about people who had lost limbs, they were reported to be feeling lucky. The journalist of the piece I read expressed incredulity at this response, pointing out how unlucky in fact they had been.

This really reminded me of how extreme that feeling was in me after diagnosis and again after surgery. It wasn't just the fact that the tumour had been discovered before any permanent damage had been done, or the fact that my symptoms could have been so much worse or the surgery more debilitating. It was also to do with the way it made me assess things. Really strip back everything to see clearly what I need and want to be happy. Only to discover that I already had it - as well as so much more. So I was lucky to have it all, but also lucky to have now realised it, and on top of that the opportunity to stop taking it for granted.

It is complicated, but I'm still grateful for the experience and what I've got out of it, although I'm not sure if I would choose to have gone through it (given the choice). And I certainly wouldn't wish it on anyone.

So these Boston amputees, waking up with a limb or two missing, it would be understandable - expected even - to dwell on the fact that their lives have changed forever and they have a massive challenge ahead of them. But instead of feeling revengeful or depressed, they felt lucky. Lucky that they were still alive. To an outsider this seems mad. It's so impressive, human nature is really quite incredible.

Our experiences are very different of course, but I was struck by the similarity in unintentionally feeling the positives of a shocking situation. And looking to the future. Maybe this is just an initial response and it hasn't had time to sink in yet, but the resilience is inspiring.


The other thing I read was something that Richard Dawkins tweeted, from the NewScientist. It isn't new news as it was published in 2002 and I had read about it in a book called Incognito last summer, but this piece gave more detail. It's about a man, who's brain tumour caused a radical and sudden change in his behaviour, resulting in "uncontrollable" paedophilia. This behaviour (amongst others) stopped as soon as the tumour was removed, and in fact was a clear signal on it's return that the tumour had regrown.

There's a lot more to it, and it's interesting as it has moral implications as well as the standard side effects associated with brain trauma, but mostly it set me off thinking about my own experiences.

When I first read about this case, it was before I had discovered my own brain tumour and so, although I found it really interesting, it didn't have a personal impact. Now though, it reminded me again how lucky I have been. The location of my tumour was probably the best you could hope for. My concerns were all about permanent physical damage.

The fact that I didn't have to worry about potential changes in my personality or behaviour, is still such a relief.


Both these pieces just reminded me how things could always be so much worse. A gentle reminder of where I am. I don't want to live every day as if it's my last and to make sure I get the most out of everything I do - I just want to bumble along like normal. But it doesn't ever hurt to stop and remember all the good things.

Email out.

I've become a bit more self conscious about writing again. Hopefully that will disappear as I get back into it, but in the meantime I'm going to turn off the email function of Henrietta. After this one, posts will no longer be emailed out - although obviously they are still open to all at henriettafish.blogspot.co.uk.

Thanks for signing up in the first place.

Wherefore, whyfore, whateverfore.

It has been brought to my attention today, by my extremely knowledgeable husband, that I don't actually know what wherefore means. Well I do now, but I didn't two days ago. Or actually an hour ago. I mistakenly thought that the where, in wherefore, would mean where. When it clearly means why. Obviously.

Even after the My So-Called Life days and my massive girl crush on Claire Danes, I never did get around to watching Romeo and Juliet (and no, I didn't read it either) but I'm not sure that I would have picked that up anyway to be honest.

So there you go, although "why are you a driving license?" doesn't make much sense, I'm leaving it as it is. I quite like it. Although I do feel a bit stupid.

Hello again. I think I've missed you.

It's been quite a while, and although I've thought about writing it hasn't really been a priority. But the last few weeks I've been thinking more and more and I reckon it's time to have another brain dump.

Things seem different now, there are thoughts and feelings that I would definitely have written about back in the day had they occurred to me, but it doesn't quite seem right now. I have rejoined society and am back at work. In some ways it would make me more comfortable if I could keep everything separate, in neat little silos. I guess that was the whole point though in the first place - to just be open about everything. Old habits die hard.

Anyway, here we are. It has been over five months now since my operation and I am coming up to the next set of scans and consultations. I should really have had them in February but they got pushed back. I think the speed at which I am approaching the MRI appointment has brought on this need to write again, it's always at the back of my mind and there's an uneasy feeling of unfinished business in the air.

Realistically the chances of the scan showing any regrowth is really, very small. It doesn't quite work telling myself that though, and I'm still feeling a bit apprehensive.

Besides this, I'm generally feeling ok. It's hard to believe that everything written here actually happened now. Equally it's hard to believe that I'm alright. I'm more than alright, things are great. Besides the constant tiredness and the short hair, I am pretty much back to how I was.

This is just a little reintroduction to writing again, and I hope to detangle my thoughts over the next few weeks with a few more posts about actual things. It definitely helped writing stuff down last time so I'm going to try that again. Oh - and my super talented uncle sent me some brilliant photos he'd managed to get from my MRI scan and I've put them on the photos page. Check out my eyeballs - I always said they were my best feature.

Life goes on.

In my first year at university I learnt about personality. I can't remember what the thing was officially, but the concept struck me as good. It proposed that you didn't have one clearly defined personality, but many (or an incredibly flexible one) - and you unconsciously used them differently depending on who you were interacting with. Hence the uncomfortable feeling when your friends meet your granny.

At the time I had many different groups of friends from different environments, and when they got together it felt strange. I didn't know who to be or how to act, so this idea made a lot of sense to me. I liked it.

When I started Henrietta, I was in a pretty weird place. None of the usual politics bothered me, and although I didn't want to offend anyone with what I wrote, my attitude was fairly blasé. I didn't really care that much to be honest.

Being ill had a way of focussing me. I could suddenly see really clearly what mattered - and what didn't. I became a single personality, the same person to everyone. I didn't feel the need to hide parts of me, or mould myself to what I thought people wanted me to be. I just was me. One of the best things was just being able to write. It was liberating: not giving a shit.

I made some resolutions during recovery, about how as I felt my way back to normal life I wouldn't slip back into the old ways. The ways that I had suddenly and clearly seen as unnecessary, like worrying too much and not aways saying what I think. I also resolved to do more exercise and eat more healthy and generally view this as a second chance, a way to start again (but better this time round).

None of these things have happened.

What I am particularly sad about is this loss of not caring. I now really question what I want people to know and I find myself not communicating as openly anymore. That's the real reason that I stopped writing so much. I can't be as honest. Life has got in the way.

It is sad, but it's real, actual, life. I feel naive to think that I really thought I could maintain the simple mantra. I go back to work tomorrow, and I'm very much looking forwards again and getting excited about the future. I don't actually mind that much really - it's been such an interesting experience but it's nice to feel a bit normal again.

Life goes on.

Two monthiversary.

Two months today. I thought it would be worth writing a little about how things are going, seeing as it's a bit of a milestone.

In some ways it doesn't feel like two months can have possibly gone past. In other ways I am a different person now, it was a lifetime ago. Thinking about the week after surgery makes me shudder. I can now remember things that I must have originally blocked out of my mind, painful and nauseous things. It's not nice to remember, but it's good to compare and see how far I've come.

Christmas is here and along with it plenty of seeing family and friends. It's great that I am not the headline news anymore - we have all moved on. It was a massive shock when it happened, and the legacy is still rumbling in the background for me, but there has been a shift in the last few weeks towards normality. I think not writing Henrietta has helped me move on too.

As I get ready to go back to work, the main thing worrying me (surprise surprise) is my hair. Why won't it grow faster? I had it cut this week, and it actually looks much better than it did, but there are still huge shiny bald areas over the scar. Which is disturbing for anyone taller than me.

The only pain left is scar pulling, but that is getting less frequent. In fact I've started to get some movement back under the skin, thanks to massage. And that is encouraging as I wasn't sure if that would come back at all.

A good thing is that I have had a date through for my next scan, in early February, and I'm really looking forward to it. I want to see the space where the tumour was. Will there be brain? Or a gap? A bit of both? I guess it will be proof to me that it has actually gone...

So that's it. Back to the marathon eating required of Christmas. Have a good one everyone!

Thanks for reading.

I think Henrietta is coming to an end. When I started writing it was cathartic and helped me work through how I felt. It swiftly grew to be fun, something that I looked forward to and spent most of my time thinking about. And then it became informative and finally entertaining, I hope, for some.

It has worried me along the way if I would know when to stop. When all I have to talk about is the mundane then it isn't fun to read, and no longer worth writing. I think that time has come. For now.

After nearly two weeks in Brighton getting stronger and fitter and managing to stay awake for whole days at a time, I am finally getting back to some semblance of normality. And I'm going to book a hair appointment later too, as hair is growing over my ears in an unnerving manner. Nowhere else of course, just over my ears.

I will continue to post updates if anything interesting occurs to me, but for a while at least this will be my last post.

My parting thoughts are about people, and support. From the beginning of this experience I have been incredibly lucky with the people that I have come across. Firstly the GP who recognised something was wrong and sent me to A&E, and secondly all the staff at King's - they were fantastic. Without such good care it would have been a much scarier and negative experience, so I'm very grateful.

And then friends and family. I don't know where to distinguish in some cases, friends have become family. The early part of this blog talks a lot about how I felt alone. That stopped after a while, and looking back it happened after my dramatic facebook announcement. I was shocked by the deluge of support in response, and knowing that support was there, and people were thinking about me, really helped. Thanks everyone.

I can't fit all the get well soon cards on the mantelpiece, and I know some people even sent two. At one point the house looked and smelled like a florist, and there were even some balloons...

After the extract went in G2 I got some really thoughtful emails from fellow tumour patients around the world, as well as scores of people wishing me well. It was emotional to read other people's stories, much worse than mine, but heartening that I had had a hand in starting a conversation. There is a sense of community about it, and it's great to be a part of it.

My immediate response to all this support was self doubt. I have been very lucky in that I am recovering quickly, with few side effects and little pain. I don't really feel deserving of all the nice things people have said. I've battled with this, after many discussions / arguments, but I know it's a common feeling with others in this situation.

You just have to deal with what happens in life. It didn't feel like I was being brave, or strong, or anything out of the ordinary. I was doing my best to get through the experience as I would any other obstacle. I can see that it must look different from the outside, but from within, I was just doing what anyone would do (and countless people have).

I remember throughout having a general confidence that everything would be ok in the end. Not that I knew what the outcome would be, just that I would deal with it and it would be ok. And that confidence came from the support I knew was behind me. I feel really touched, and grateful and incredibly lucky. Thank you.

Have a happy Christmas everyone!

Thanks for reading,
Jx

Positively relieved.

Well. I've been dreading today, publication day, for quite a while. Quite frankly, it's a relief I don't have to worry about it anymore - I'll be tomorrow's fish and chip paper!

I was worried about two things mostly:

1. The photo. Of course. I've been having odd dreams about what the photo would look like. In it's natural state, my face is quite grumpy (and has big cheeks), so I have to make an effort to smile. But it didn't seem quite appropriate to be grinning like an idiot... so I think I grimaced a lot for the poor photographer. Also I could see my reflection in the lens (it was a huge terrifying lens) and it made me cringe. Would I be cringing out of the pages of G2?


2. Up until now there has been at most, I reckon, two degrees of separation between me and readers of Henrietta. If you know me (or my family) it's harder to be rude and, to date, everyone has been very lovely. Suddenly, people who have no idea who I am could read this. Let's be honest - will read this. What on earth will they think? Guardian readers are hardly known for their compassion below the line...

Disclosure: I used to work at the Guardian some years ago. (It is still a favourite pastime of mine to read commenters ripping into each other and journalists and the Guardian itself).

In the end though I decided not to care (my dodgy-photo dreams aside). I would just let it happen, and not be hurt by any nasty comments, or ridicule myself about the photo. I no longer care what people think. Repeat: I no longer care what people think...

Ironically the one negative comment (so far) was, in part, about me being positive. At first I wasn't too bothered but when people started to endorse it (until it was inexplicably removed - I'm not sure why as it wasn't breaking any rules), I forced myself to really think about the authenticity of my positivity. What a mouthful.

But no, I was right the first time. I still feel incredibly lucky. It's 'unlucky', I guess, to have a tumour at all, but I really think I am in a better place because of it. That's not to say I'm happy that it happened and I certainly wouldn't want it again, but I now know where the best things lie in my life. I'm really not sure I would have discovered that without a proper wake up call.

One thing I didn't expect from this publicity lark, was the sheer number of people that would get in touch. I've felt a bit of a fraud at various points throughout this experience, and here is another reminder of that. I've had it easy (relatively) with my tumour as well as my recovery. There are so many people out there who have it worse, and they are contacting me to wish me well. Wow. 

I feel like we should all have a brain tumour party together and get drunk.

Also, I just read this tumour blog by finneyonthewing from start to finish - it's hilarious. Really made my day I should have read it a long time ago. Go on, read it.

Henry ate a fish.

People keep asking why Henrietta is called Henrietta Fish.

The story goes like this. A former housemate of mine, called Our Kid, swears that he knows someone who swears he knows someone, called Henrietta Fish. That's her actual name.

Whether this is true or not ceases to matter as it's so funny. Imagine calling your child Henrietta Fish? Poor thing. The very mention of Henrietta Fish used to send me into such a laughing fit that I've been known to fall off chairs. It's been used against me as a weapon, to make me laugh hysterically and forget what I'm doing. It's up there with Janet Street Porter being washed down a mud slide. Face first.

It's the one thing that is guaranteed to make me laugh, and under the pressure of having to come up with a name for this blog (and I didn't want to call it anything to do with "mytumourdotcom") I thought of Henrietta and it seemed appropriate. Well, not appropriate but funny. And I like funny.

So there you have it. Maybe Henrietta Fish, who knows someone who went to university with Our Kid, will be googling herself one day and will come across my blog. And then she'll read this and think, that's ME! And then she'll probably be quite offended. Sorry Henrietta.

In my bubble.

Late last night I read a blog written by someone who'd had something similar to me. Mum had found it, amongst others. She has basically triaged them for me and she thought this one was worth reading.

Up until now, I haven't read much. In fact I realised I'd been actively avoiding it. Plenty of people have offered to put me in touch with their friends that have been through this, but in every case I have found a way not to. It dawned on me that I've been avoiding that too. But why?

Before surgery, I didn't think it was worth talking to someone as each case is unique. The logistics and outcome of the operation are dependent on the location and size of the tumour, I thought. So someone else's experiences wouldn't be relevant.

In fact, I think I just didn't want to know. Hearing more details would make it more real and looking back, I was struggling to prepare mentally for surgery. I don't think I could have coped with it.

But now, surgery over, why am I still so reluctant to hear other people's accounts, or meet up with fellow post-craniotomy patients?

Once I started reading this blog last night I carried on until I'd finished the whole thing. It was mad. There were so many similarities and much of what I read felt familiar. But it also made me feel uncomfortable, reading someone else's account. And I think I've figured out why.

Being a younger sibling, there has always been something to compare myself to, and a feeling of expectation to be met. It was much worse when I was growing up, in fact I don't think it applies anymore, but as a second child the bar has been set before you. To compare you to.

I think this is having a similar effect on me. I don't want the pressure of knowing where I should be in my recovery. To be comparing myself to other people's stories, and coming out worse. It seems ridiculous and petty now I've worked it out.

Also, I'm shy. I have to push myself to be sociable and I'll take any excuse not to meet people. Brain surgery is a great excuse to be antisocial.

At the moment it feels like I'm progressing well, but in my own little bubble. Even writing Henrietta is something I can safely do from the comfort of my preferred solitude. Maybe it's time to pop it and start engaging more. With the community of people who have been through something similar, as well as with everyday life. Something to think about anyway.

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.

And so here we are.

This is really what I was interested in, how on earth was this going to feel? And suddenly here I am. How did I get here?

Time has been elastic. It has moved so quickly and yet it feels like it's been forever. A day lasts a week and then a week flies by in a few hours. And now here I am, in hospital, waiting for brain surgery. Life is very strange.

Have I really got a tumour in my head? It just doesn't seem possible.

Right. Well, I better try and capture some sense as well. I am feeling ok now, quietly calm. The ward is nice and the nurses lovely. I've just taken some pills to knock me out but I'll be woken soon anyway for obs, and then again a few hours later for pre-surgery shower. So I'm actually not too worried about not sleeping, there won't be time to sleep.

After all that.

I also don't feel alone, I have the internet for one thing (no idea how, or why, but it's really improved the hospital experience). And it's good to be writing. I also have Luis. Will get a photo of Luis up on the photo page at some point, he is a felt turtle from my sister, to keep me company.

Up and down then I suppose. I was definitely in a panic before, but now I'm back on track. I'm hoping I just needed to get it out the way and realise the depth of the terror, so that it would lose it's power. That may have happened or it may have just abated and is lurking around the corner. I'll find out.

Thanks for all the messages. It's been a bit overwhelming today so I've been keeping a low profile but I really appreciate the kind thoughts everyone has been sending. Thank you.

I'm going to hope the pills work now. Night night all.

An open book.

I'm normally a really private person, and find it quite hard to talk to anyone outside my close circle about how I'm really feeling. The whole idea of publishing thoughts for anyone in the world to see was so foreign to me a few weeks ago, it's strange how far I have come.

At first, I found it really helpful to write things down and create a bit of order to my thoughts and free up a bit of space in my head. But I found that I was having the same conversations with people, after I'd been writing about it. That was quite strange. I'd spend the day on my own thinking and writing, and then when I saw people I'd have this ready-made conversation that I'd been crafting all afternoon.

And then I told a few people I was doing it, because it was helpful. And then the address was squeezed out of me and I finally let go. Up until now I have always felt very exposed by writing. My only real (and very proud) writing background is an interview I did for GU on the super olympian triathlete and one of my bestest friends, Jessica Harrison. I remember being terrified handing it in and just felt very judged on writing style and journalistic integrity blah blah. Basically, I was very insecure about it.

I don't feel that now. Obviously my perspective has somewhat changed given recent events, and I've talked a bit earlier about confidence, but it just doesn't seem to matter anymore. I think that as long as I am writing this for me, and with a benefit to me, then it will work. The worry now is that I start showing off and writing bollox just to entertain people, and then it wouldn't work anymore. Have to watch out for that.

But back to the main theme, there are two points I am trying to address. One is about the being open, and how funny it feels doing that. Two, is the effect of that on people. Here, I am more concerned about the people closest to me who would then have cause to question themselves based on what I am writing. That worried me as soon as I let Henrietta out the bag.

So firstly, the privacy thing. I don't know why I've found it hard in the past to be open, and it is something that I've been working on over the years anyway. I have a very close group of friends and family who I talk to a lot, which is great. In general though I find myself in social situations being polite and aware, but not very open. I am quite shy, and I'm often happy to sit back in a group and let most social situations wash over me without contributing anything "real".

This writing seems very attention-seeking in comparison and is taking a bit of getting used to. It's funny to think that anyone can read these thoughts and make their own mind up about them. But then again, nobody has to read them either, and it comes back to the main point here - I'm writing this for me, so I can read it back in years to come and WONDER at all this stuff going through my head. It's like a live experiment really.

And so how is it affecting my closest friends and family? Well, every night when mum and Olly get home I talk at them like a machine gun while they both sit and blink at me. I tell them everything I've been thinking and writing, so they don't actually need to read the blog at all. But then they do, and that's weird because we've already discussed it and I might have changed my mind a bit by then.

But I guess it is affecting people who don't live here differently. The people who I already talk to anyway. They can now read, almost in real time, how I'm feeling from one moment to another. I know that in some cases already this has led to people wondering how they should react - are they being too much or too little? And the thing is I get irritated by things people might say sometimes, but not by the people themselves. I don't want anyone to have to worry about what they say in case I'm irritated by it.

So the question is one of balance I think. If I say I'm irritated by something, I don't want that to mean all the people close to me think "Oh God, I said that yesterday...". In that situation, I'd rather not make anyone question themselves, but I also want to be honest about what irritates me - so that I remember. I want to log it, warts and all.

Here's a good example: people REALLY like to tell me that they "just know" everything is going to be ok. Now, I logically know that you would only say this to make someone feel better and because you don't want them to be worried. It's a nice thing to say, but it drives me up the wall.

It makes me think that people think I am overreacting for worrying. And then it makes me a bit angry and defensive because, quite frankly, I am worrying. And I don't understand how them thinking it's going to be ok will stop me worrying, and then I think actually - I WANT to worry, I think it's healthy to be a bit worried. Never been one to stick my head in the sand.

But really I know people are just trying to be nice. Reading this here, right now, will be making at least ten of you go "ah fuck, that was totally me... what should I do now?"

And that is not want I want your reaction to be. So I'll end this one with a plea, to not take this too seriously. Please don't take it as a personal message to act in any way around me other than you usually would. I am aiming to balance what I say, but there's a pretty good chance some of it going to come out quite ranty, but you can bet I'll have moved on to something else after a few more contemplative hours.

Phew.

Well. What a day.

I was a bit nervous this morning knowing that I was going to tell you all about everything today, but was hoping that once it was out in the open I would feel better. And I do, it's a massive relief.

It's been really emotional and I haven't yet got back to any of the messages you've all been sending, but thank you SO much. It means a lot and they are all lovely. Once I'd posted, I just shut the computer for a while and twiddled my thumbs. I'm not very good at twiddling my thumbs though so then I just watched the messages come in and cried.

Totally took it out of me. I'm exhausted. Just wanted to say thanks, for now.

What a thing to happen.

It's funny but, despite everything, I really am quite glad that this is happening.

Obviously there are some downsides but I wanted to capture this feeling of positivity that has come out of the experience overall. I've touched on it before, and it is definitely still there throughout the down days - but the underlying feeling for this entire situation really is a positive one. Odd.

Several reasons:

1) Timing.
There would never be a brilliant time for this to happen, but if I had to choose when would be best - then it would be now. Quite a few actually spooky things came together to make it all very convenient. Mum starting her MSc and being in London. It happened on the exact same day she started her course and was staying with us anyway. Last month it could have been Somaliland or Timbuktu.

And we're only six weeks moved into our brand new house, which has provision for me to sleep downstairs if I need to, post surgery. And can accommodate mum in the spare room. What if it had happened before? I don't think we'd have still got the mortgage to be honest.

Also, I'm still relatively new in my job but I almost accepted a contract offer instead. I chose lower paid permanent work with a company I believe in for a team that I knew would work well together. What a decision was that. Work have been immense in this entire situation and I have totally lucked out.

And the other thing is that Beka is on maternity so I get to see loads of them and the kids.

2) Time out.
This is forcing me to take a little time out of life, and try a whole new pace. It wasn't easy at first and didn't come naturally - I really missed work and the structure and motivation it gives me. But I'm enjoying it more and finding new ways to motivate myself now that I'm getting a bit stronger. It is a lull right now as I count down to surgery and finding out what side effects I will need to contend with - and I fully expect post surgery to be focussed on returning to work but I know it will take a while.

In the meantime, it has been a very positive experience trying something different in terms of structure and motivation. When else do you get the chance to do that?

3) Contemplation.
Time to think. I am being forced to think about what I really think. And I'm really enjoying it. I just spend time thinking, and I don't feel guilty about it being a waste of otherwise useful time. I don't sleep much and I don't get out much, and I've been just thinking. I love thinking! And then writing down my thoughts. And then moving them around a bit until they make sense. I think I will miss this when normal life resumes, and I don't have time to sit around in my pants all day thinking of things to think about. (I don't sit around in my pants, I have pyjamas on at all times).

4) And where am I?
This one is the real crux but I've banged on about it for ages already. I just can't believe how I have managed to end up here, with everything anyone could want. I don't need anything else, I have just really landed on my feet and although I knew I was happily sorted this situation has really hammered it home. I'm so lucky. If everything went totally tits up now, I would be happy to have reached this point. I think that it totally amazing and you all know who you are that got me here.

5) Created a milestone.
This was a complete surprise, and a real bonus. It happened almost immediately. I have been feeling kind of old recently, and a bit behind in my life goals. A bit pressured and kind of needing to get on with things. I'm 33, and I remember so vividly my mum turning 33 - I made her a birthday card. She was at university studying medicine and I was eight years old. She also had my sister, 10. That is just incredible what she had achieved by my age and this weighed on me as I reached my 33rd birthday.

On top of this I have really started to notice that I need to work harder to remember things, and stay focussed and hearing and general little niggles reminding of the march of time. I was starting to feel old.

But not any more - how weird is that? I'm only 33! In five or ten years time we can look back on this and say wow remember when you had a brain tumour - you were so young! You were only 33! This has created a big milestone in my life, and when you think of it in the grand scale of my (hopefully much longer) life, 33 is nothing. It's the beginning. This will be a huge milestone and something that we will always remember. In a good way. So just to clear things up, I'm not old - right?

6) It's so interesting.
Vain! But really, this makes me more interesting - especially to myself. What with the self contemplation and the whole process, it's just really interesting. I'm watching myself deal with this and I can't wait to read all this back when I'm done and think wow did I really think that - I'm mental. But I'll have a record of how interesting it is. I hope its interesting!


After surgery I will know what the full impact of this will be on my life, and that is obviously the big worry right now - what will I physically have to cope with and work through? But it's good to see that at this point I feel a positive impact of a brain tumour. I had always been pretty sure that I'm a massive pessimist, but worryingly / surprisingly / interestingly I'm not sure I am anymore. That's weird.

This time next week I'll be waking up about now, with a brand new space in my brain for more crazy thoughts. Get ready Uma, coming to get you.

An unexpected pleasure.

I've been really surprised how much I've enjoyed writing over the last two weeks. At first, it really was just a brain dump to get the thoughts out of my head in the hope I could let them go. But it has become something that I really look forward to, and spend a lot of time thinking about.

There is a bigger piece to this brewing about how it feels being so open, which I am not at all used to, and also how it is affecting the people closest to me. It's on the way, but in the meantime this is really just a recognition that I enjoy the process of the writing. Totally unexpectedly.

I always had a bit of a romantic view of writing and it's something that I've really wanted to be good at - but was very paranoid about. I never really had anything to write about before and I really like having the time to think about it now. It is keeping me busy, and is forcing me to think about what I want to say. It also helps me feel much more in control and self aware.

But I wasn't expecting to enjoy it so much!

It is really wonderful to hear that people are reading it too. I love watching the page stats go up and wondering who just read that? What did you read?