Last Thursday I got up late, having managed to be up and having breakfast by 10.30 since I got out of hospital, it was 12.30pm. Oops. After a slow breakfast and poncing about on the 'net for an hour I dragged myself into the shower. It was a struggle to put proper clothes on after living in my £3 Matalan nighties and although my tummy was still quite swollen and bruised, with a weeping wound, I got into my jeans. My hair went how I wanted it to, which was a bit of a shock, that never happens when you need it to does it? I reckon I've made some class purchases make up wise because I'm getting bloody good at disguising the shadows under my eyes these days, if I do say so myself! The reason for all this effort two weeks after surgery? The magazine who are publishing my story (as arranged by Beating Bowel Cancer charity for publicity of the disease) were sending a photographer.
Fabio is Italian, from Preston and living in Derbyshire. Not far from one of my aunties as it happens, small world! He was really lovely and after a cup of tea and plenty of chat I was standing in the road outside my house (I live in the middle of nowhere, remember) while he snapped away, then back inside for some more on the sofa (photos!). I kept trying to remember to put one leg in front and twist my hips a bit like the stars do to make myself look thinner but mostly I forgot. I can't deny it was rather nice to have a young man to chat to after being incarcerated for 10 days and I wouldn't have needed persuading to keep him a bit longer but after two hours he went home (boo). I'm not sure when the article is being published but as soon as I do I'll let you know! It'll be in That's Life magazine - a weekly "My daughter was impregnated by an alien" type publication so don't expect any in depth discussion on cancer, it's a low word count.
I've been pretty busy sorting things out in my bedroom since I got home. I think it's the spring clean bug, that and the burning desire to throw out all my giant apple catcher pants which I had to wear to support PTW's bag. Now the bag is gone I can wear normal skimpy things again, woohoo! I've sorted my socks and my knickers and swapped the doors around on my wardrobes so the glass ones are in the middle and levelled them up which I've been meaning to do for months. I've sorted out my folded tops into long sleeves, short sleeves and no sleeves. Then yesterday I took the rather mad step of painting the ceiling..........hmm. Well first I filled the gaps above the coving...........then had a rest...............filled the gaps below the coving............had a rest..........did the cutting in on the ceiling.............yep, you guessed it I had a rest. I painted the ceiling's first coat in two stages too, using a paint pad on a long pole. It looks bloody awful this morning and might need another two coats so quite why I'm sat here typing this I don't know. It's a lovely sunny day and if it weren't for the peripheral neuropathy I'd be out in the garden but I know I won't be able to do much with numb fingers, it might look nice but I bet it's still cold. I think I'll stick to painting this week and see how warm it is next week.
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