Not as epic as the last post, I promise!
Well, the weekend on the Gold Coast has been and gone, and now I'm up in Mackay for Easter.
The Gold coast weekend was wonderful. It was so good to feel normal and hang out with my wonderful friends. I teared up as soon as they walked into the arrivals lounge. I actually got a bit depressed on the Friday night after they arrived - they are so happy and I was having such a good time just talking and joking like it used to be that I got depressed because my life is no longer like that, that my life has become the way that it is. Does that make sense? I know it was stupid to ruin the good times by dwelling on the fact that they've changed, but I couldn't help it. We used to be happy and laughing all the time - it wasn't just special occasions that I look forward to for weeks. In the end, because they are such good friends, they listened to me whinge, vent and cry about how rubbish my life is, then it was out of my system and we could go back to having a good time.
On Friday afternoon, before they arrived, I drove down to the Gold Coast (on my own, in the pimpmobile, hurrah!) and checked into the hotel. I went to the beach and spent some time on my own for the first time in weeks. It was a bit strange actually, I was a bit emotional on the beach. Then I picked Brad, Jacqui and Rachel up from the airport and we went to the hotel, then went out for a coffee.
On Saturday we went to Seaworld. I really wanted to see the penguins (I'm going through a Happy Feet thing), but unfortunately they all died a week or so ago. No, really, this is my life. (I'm very sorry about the penguins dying, and not entirely for selfish reasons. It is very sad, and I'm sure they didn't do it just to nark me.) Unfortunately, Saturday was an exhausted day. I have them quite regularly, I'm having one today actually. Basically, I am completely bone weary on exhausted days. I can't stand, can't walk, my brain is foggy and I am completely knackered. Standing up long enough to have a shower is exhausting. In other words, bad timing for Seaworld. But we got a wheelchair and all was fine. We got superb front row seats at the dolphin show, courtesy of wheelchair, but completely terrible seats at the sea lion show, courtesy of Mr NotSureWhatI'mMeantToBeDoing, manning the entrance.
About one o'clock I unfortunately started getting tired and cranky (yes, much like a four year old after too many lollies). I'm just not used to being around people at the moment! Even ones I love lots and lots. I'm just a turtle. But that was okay, I sent the others off to go on the rides I couldn't go on anyway and curled up in my chair in a shady corner and read my book. For dinner we went to the Gold Coast International's seafood buffet, where, I am ashamed to say, I gave my worst ever showing there. Only two plates of seafood consumed. Very poor.
Sunday was lovely, we went to Skank Avenue (Cavill Ave) to check out the skanks (most of whom were still asleep or hungover). We did see some teenage mutant ninja turtles though. Then we drove up to Mt Tambourine, where I replenished my fudge supply. Fudge and Fruity Bix, my two staples. Then we drove to Coolangatta, had lunch at the surf club, had a final walk on the beach before the rain hit, and then off to the airport.
And then it was all over. Although on Monday Brad and Jacqui booked my flights to Sydney in three weeks (my brithday present). So I'll be down soon folks!
I then went to Amy's to watch Search for the Next Pussycat Dolls. I've written something on it, stay tuned. (It's my blog, and I'll change the topic from boring old cancer if I want to.) I just need to work out the technology first. It was much better than expected, since half the girls got a virus and there was some great projectile vomit shots. Superb.
Now, I have discovered something truly horrifying. I can't believe no one mentioned this to me earlier. It is a calamity. A tragedy. Truly truly sucky.
In my first cycle of chemo, I lost about seven kilos. Now I know that this is very bad, but secretly I thought it was pretty cool. My consolation prize for that extremely crap experience, if you like. But, like a good girl, I have been trying to gain some weight back, because it's extremely bad to lose weight on chemo. So, ably assisted by steroids that make me hungry at irritating times (4am munchies anyone?) as well as kill off any Olympic career I was planning, armed with a steady diet of Fruity Bix, skim milk and fudge, I have managed to gain a few kilos back.
My jeans are still too big around my legs and bum. They've stayed skinny. I suppose I should take comfort in that. And I would, if not for the fact that my regained kilos now live just above the waistband of my jeans. And we're not talking homemade muffins here. Oh no. This is a mass-produced McDonalds 'Would you like a trailer with that?' triple chocolate chip muffin. I CAN'T BELIEVE NO ONE TOLD ME ABOUT THE MENOPAUSE BELLY!
Now there are some definite perks of the whole menopause thing. Loving the no periods thing. Loving the chemically controlled libido (low please, no point in one of those). Actually, I think that's the end of the perks.
It is bad enough that I can't have children. But to not have children but still look like I am perpetually toting triplets? Sometimes I think that God's sense of humour is blacker than mine. Or at least better because he can make funny stuff happen, not just write about it.
(Oh dear, my sense of vanity has just kicked in. Before you think I'm some bald pregnant dugong lookalike, it's not really that bad. I'm just a girl, and therefore vain. I am comfortingly cuddly. Kind of like Pooh-bear, but without the yellow fur. And with pants on. If that sounds appealing to you, email me. Actually, if that sounds appealing to you, don't email me. You're too weird for me. No, better email me. Pooh-bears aren't in a position to be choosy.)
I liked the dugongs. They were cool.
Today I was knackered again. If I'm this exhausted when I wake up tomorrow, I'm going to have to go down to the hospital here in Mackay and do some blood tests. It usually means my red blood cells are really low and a bag of blood usually cheers me up. It's the Dracula Spectacular, Dracula Spectacular, Dracula Spectacular sho-ow. (A musical I actually did do in high school, O Palace Dwellers. You didn't miss much.)
Now, tomorrow I have a very exciting activity planned, and I will share it with you afterwards!
Hello Craggles! Welcome to the weirdness. No cool photos (although I've been meaning to get some bald shots up to compete with the 'nice' one) but I write more frequently than Pils! He's having more fun though.
Talk soon!
Much love and God bless,
Jess xoxoxo
The Gold coast weekend was wonderful. It was so good to feel normal and hang out with my wonderful friends. I teared up as soon as they walked into the arrivals lounge. I actually got a bit depressed on the Friday night after they arrived - they are so happy and I was having such a good time just talking and joking like it used to be that I got depressed because my life is no longer like that, that my life has become the way that it is. Does that make sense? I know it was stupid to ruin the good times by dwelling on the fact that they've changed, but I couldn't help it. We used to be happy and laughing all the time - it wasn't just special occasions that I look forward to for weeks. In the end, because they are such good friends, they listened to me whinge, vent and cry about how rubbish my life is, then it was out of my system and we could go back to having a good time.
On Friday afternoon, before they arrived, I drove down to the Gold Coast (on my own, in the pimpmobile, hurrah!) and checked into the hotel. I went to the beach and spent some time on my own for the first time in weeks. It was a bit strange actually, I was a bit emotional on the beach. Then I picked Brad, Jacqui and Rachel up from the airport and we went to the hotel, then went out for a coffee.
On Saturday we went to Seaworld. I really wanted to see the penguins (I'm going through a Happy Feet thing), but unfortunately they all died a week or so ago. No, really, this is my life. (I'm very sorry about the penguins dying, and not entirely for selfish reasons. It is very sad, and I'm sure they didn't do it just to nark me.) Unfortunately, Saturday was an exhausted day. I have them quite regularly, I'm having one today actually. Basically, I am completely bone weary on exhausted days. I can't stand, can't walk, my brain is foggy and I am completely knackered. Standing up long enough to have a shower is exhausting. In other words, bad timing for Seaworld. But we got a wheelchair and all was fine. We got superb front row seats at the dolphin show, courtesy of wheelchair, but completely terrible seats at the sea lion show, courtesy of Mr NotSureWhatI'mMeantToBeDoing, manning the entrance.
About one o'clock I unfortunately started getting tired and cranky (yes, much like a four year old after too many lollies). I'm just not used to being around people at the moment! Even ones I love lots and lots. I'm just a turtle. But that was okay, I sent the others off to go on the rides I couldn't go on anyway and curled up in my chair in a shady corner and read my book. For dinner we went to the Gold Coast International's seafood buffet, where, I am ashamed to say, I gave my worst ever showing there. Only two plates of seafood consumed. Very poor.
Sunday was lovely, we went to Skank Avenue (Cavill Ave) to check out the skanks (most of whom were still asleep or hungover). We did see some teenage mutant ninja turtles though. Then we drove up to Mt Tambourine, where I replenished my fudge supply. Fudge and Fruity Bix, my two staples. Then we drove to Coolangatta, had lunch at the surf club, had a final walk on the beach before the rain hit, and then off to the airport.
And then it was all over. Although on Monday Brad and Jacqui booked my flights to Sydney in three weeks (my brithday present). So I'll be down soon folks!
I then went to Amy's to watch Search for the Next Pussycat Dolls. I've written something on it, stay tuned. (It's my blog, and I'll change the topic from boring old cancer if I want to.) I just need to work out the technology first. It was much better than expected, since half the girls got a virus and there was some great projectile vomit shots. Superb.
Now, I have discovered something truly horrifying. I can't believe no one mentioned this to me earlier. It is a calamity. A tragedy. Truly truly sucky.
In my first cycle of chemo, I lost about seven kilos. Now I know that this is very bad, but secretly I thought it was pretty cool. My consolation prize for that extremely crap experience, if you like. But, like a good girl, I have been trying to gain some weight back, because it's extremely bad to lose weight on chemo. So, ably assisted by steroids that make me hungry at irritating times (4am munchies anyone?) as well as kill off any Olympic career I was planning, armed with a steady diet of Fruity Bix, skim milk and fudge, I have managed to gain a few kilos back.
My jeans are still too big around my legs and bum. They've stayed skinny. I suppose I should take comfort in that. And I would, if not for the fact that my regained kilos now live just above the waistband of my jeans. And we're not talking homemade muffins here. Oh no. This is a mass-produced McDonalds 'Would you like a trailer with that?' triple chocolate chip muffin. I CAN'T BELIEVE NO ONE TOLD ME ABOUT THE MENOPAUSE BELLY!
Now there are some definite perks of the whole menopause thing. Loving the no periods thing. Loving the chemically controlled libido (low please, no point in one of those). Actually, I think that's the end of the perks.
It is bad enough that I can't have children. But to not have children but still look like I am perpetually toting triplets? Sometimes I think that God's sense of humour is blacker than mine. Or at least better because he can make funny stuff happen, not just write about it.
(Oh dear, my sense of vanity has just kicked in. Before you think I'm some bald pregnant dugong lookalike, it's not really that bad. I'm just a girl, and therefore vain. I am comfortingly cuddly. Kind of like Pooh-bear, but without the yellow fur. And with pants on. If that sounds appealing to you, email me. Actually, if that sounds appealing to you, don't email me. You're too weird for me. No, better email me. Pooh-bears aren't in a position to be choosy.)
I liked the dugongs. They were cool.
Today I was knackered again. If I'm this exhausted when I wake up tomorrow, I'm going to have to go down to the hospital here in Mackay and do some blood tests. It usually means my red blood cells are really low and a bag of blood usually cheers me up. It's the Dracula Spectacular, Dracula Spectacular, Dracula Spectacular sho-ow. (A musical I actually did do in high school, O Palace Dwellers. You didn't miss much.)
Now, tomorrow I have a very exciting activity planned, and I will share it with you afterwards!
Hello Craggles! Welcome to the weirdness. No cool photos (although I've been meaning to get some bald shots up to compete with the 'nice' one) but I write more frequently than Pils! He's having more fun though.
Talk soon!
Much love and God bless,
Jess xoxoxo
posted by Jessie at 5:59 pm
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