I'm quite a positive person, a glass half full person, a make the best of it person. I think so anyway. But I was in a very dark place at the weekend despite the wonderful and amazing Tour de France which made me so proud to be an adopted daughter of this fantastic county.
I was desperate to see the ten second flash of cyclists hurtling down the Ripon Road on Saturday and I managed, even though it rendered me in no state to do or go anywhere else that day. (Bummer, missed the tequila slammers at Il Presidente of the Cricket Club's evening event!). I met Gary Verity of Welcome to Yorkshire over a year ago when he came to speak at an event I organised for a client and fantastic he was. The Big V, as he is known amongst the journos, is a larger than life personality and now he has lost some weight he has been renamed the Medium-sized V - nice. I met him again at the launch of the Tour at Ripon Cathedral which we were lucky enough to go to and frankly, he has done a brilliant job and I am full of admiration.
Anyway, Tour de France - tick, but the whole thing left me exhausted and being tired just made the future look bleaker. Anyway Sunday was bad, very bad and I sat on the bench in the garden on my own and wailed. But on Monday things took a surprising turn. The district nurse who is, of course, my friend Fifi called to see me. My drain was nearly full and I was lugging Mavis, the drain, containing 480mls of red gunk around with me on my rather weaker side. Fifi's advice was to go to York to have a new drain plugged in. And so we set off to York on Monday afternoon through horrendous traffic (why?) and whilst my beloved parked up, I trundled slowly to G1 where I had spent the previous Wednesday night after the operation with the snoring Florence.
I arrived on the ward with no paperwork (had I also had a lobotomy at the same time, I wondered) but I explained my predicament and the nice nursey went off to find my notes. She came back moments later saying that my notes SHOULD be here but weren't and they could only have disappeared if someone wanted them for a meeting. Meeting? My results aren't due till the end of the week and it's only Monday. Anyway, with a new Mavis on board we went home.
On Tuesday I had a call from the lovely Kim who is my (yes, I know I'm sharing her but she is going to be there for me throughout and therefore mine) breast cancer nurse. Am I OK? Yes, drain drained and all hunky dory and sleeping better - hurray! Are there any results? I wondered, you know, just in case and because of the trip to the hospital on the Monday with no notes. No, she said and rang off having fixed for me to come in next week. Then she rang back. Results!
I'm sitting down, writing down (because of the lobotomy and because in times of stress I may forget important stuff) and she says that there is a clear margin around where they took the lump - great! And that of the 18 lymph nodes they removed only the two they already knew about were infected. More very good stuff. Am I still going to have chemo - yes. And all the other stuff which I will be more familiar with as time goes on. But...
I am no longer in the dark place. I am going to see next year and even if my hair falls out (big worry of mine) and I am nauseous (a nearly as big worry) I will be ok in the end. And I am clinging to that thought because despite everything I have the best family and friends in the world and I'm not done yet!