Lucy and Phoebe

Lucy and Phoebe

Saturday, 4 May 2013

School uniform and vodoo websites

I am a naughty blogger. I better do some time on the naughty step. Why haven't I written this for so long? Hmm, fidget, fidget, look at my feet, I don't really know. Will I be a better blogger and write it more often? Hmm, I don't know about that. Perhaps I better stand in the corner after my time on the naughty step. That might sort me out. Or I could write some lines: I will write my blog more often x 100. Wait a minute, something is missing here. I need to get on a school uniform. That's better. 




video


Bugger. I was having so much fun playing schools, I forgot I was cooking. That rhubarb crumble won't taste very good as it has been cooked to an inch of its life and is stuck to the pan, and has gone black. 

I don't actually remember when I last wrote this, so forgive me if I repeat anything. Actually, I don't remember very much at the moment. I think I need to go on one of the memory courses that I run. Anyway, enough, let's get on with this blog before I get sent to the naughty step again. What shall we begin with? So the half marathon is done and dusted for another year. I haven't been running that much since. It really took it out of me. Don't think I have got it in me to run a whole marathon, although I would love to. "Dad is going to run a marathon" my son informed me. "Really?" I reply, digging the scissors into table. "That is great, isn't it?" Bloody bastard, he always has to do it with brass knobs on. He is thinking of doing the Paris marathon because he is so la - di - da. London isn't good enough for Coolio, international man of mystery. Let's hope he falls into the Seine. Oh dear, I am being bitchy already and I am only one paragraph in to this blog entry. It is not looking good, is it? 

Actually, Coolio is not the only family member I am pissed off with today. I am afraid my son is on the list for serious crimes against his mum. "Is that my blazer you are wearing?" he has just asked me. He is not finding the school theme funny. But I am! He wants to buy some hideous politically incorrect, violent, pornographic game, which I obviously said NO to. The thing is it turns out that he already has some of them but I was the last person to find out. "Dad bought me "Shag, torture, kill, win the lottery and get totally hammered"" he told me. My temperature is rising. I must not stab the table again. Bloody bastard. "That's nice of him" I say through gritted teeth. "So are you going to buy me part two? I will do some chores for you"  Hmm, chores. I would like that. That gives me more time to dress up in school uniform. "What chores were you thinking you could do?" I ask, putting the scissors down. "Well, I could clean the car" The car has not been cleaned since 1975. That is a very big chore and it is also a job that I never want to do. "Let me have a quick think" I tell him. Hmm, good parenting versus clean car. God, that is a hard one. What should I choose? Under age son watching porn or clean seats and no rubbish on floor? Bugger. "Ok, if you do the car and clean your room (no one has been in that since 1975 apart from my son. Even the cats won't go in) then you can have that game" Why am I so shallow? Now, where is my daughter's PE outfit, let's see if I can get in to that......

The plan has all gone wrong. Damn. Felix's idea of cleaning is not actually cleaning. "Come and see my room" he says. OMG, if this is clean what the f**** is dirty? His room is actually a health hazard. "You don't think this is clean?" he asks in amazement. Where did I go wrong? I have failed to bring him to up to know the difference between clean and dirty and not noticed that he has lots of inappropriate games on his bedroom shelves. "So does that mean you are not going to buy me "Shag, torture, kill, win the lottery and get totally hammered"?" Correct. That is exactly what it means. We are not currently talking. No doubt he is texting Coolio to say what a total cow I am and how unfair life is and no doubt Coolio will buy the bloody game for him. "Put him on the vodoo website" my daughter suggests very helpfully. Ah, the vodoo website. A family favourite. You just put the victim's name in and select the terrible torture you want them to suffer. You can drop heavy weights on them, set fire to them, stick pins in them, hmm it is very satisfying. I have really bad backache today, I suspect my son is on this site and my name is on the victim.........little bugger. Oh, I must go and check my cake. Bugger. Hope that is not black and ruined like my rhubarb. 

Phew! Cake not yet burned. That is a bonus. I have had another little hospital trip, two actually to be precise. Dr Lovely has gone now, but I have Dr Fabulous in his place, so that is ok. "The thing is, Mrs S, I don't know if we can carry on with the reconstruction" WHAT? I actually couldn't speak. I just sat there, stunned. A headache came on straight away. Actually, I think Coolio was on the bloody vodoo website putting pins into my head. Maybe that family favourite was not such a good idea. "Your skin has been so damaged by radiotherapy that there is a really high risk that if we operate again your skin won't be able to take it and it will burst" OMG. This is going from bad to bloody terrible. My skin will burst? Jesus that is like one of the games on my son's top shelf. Blimey, that is hard core horror. Forget embarrassing bodies. Wow. I didn't speak for about five hours. Usually I am so on the ball. I am patient of the year. I ask all the right questions, I know everything involved but I don't know that was a curve ball, I didn't see it coming and it took me by surprise. I had to have my pre op assessment. I tell you what. I have many faults and one of my worst faults is I cannot lie. I wish I could. My nose doesn't grow longer, I have no physical response to lying but I just can't do it. I start to go red, sweat profusely, twitch and then I either laugh or cry hysterically. They asked me some questions in that pre op assessment that I suspect 99% of the population lie when they answer. God, I wanted to lie so much, but I couldn't. The nurses eyes nearly popped out their sockets. "So you've done............?" they ask wishing they could have a drink. "Yes" I mumble. God this is so embarrassing. "And you've ..........?" they say opening a window. "Yes" I say trying to shrink as far into my chair as I can. And no, I will not be telling you what they asked. You will have to have a pre operative assessment yourself. 

I phoned my GP a couple of days later and told her how I had been stunned into complete silence. I didn't mention my suspicions about the vodoo website. "I don't understand anything that he said to me" I wailed. She helped me think of questions I wanted to ask and I phoned to ask them. "I will tell him and he will answer them and I will send you the answers" his lovely secretary told me. I felt really reassured. Hmm three weeks have gone by and no answers............... Anyway, this is what I do know. I am on the waiting list for surgery. They are not sure what they are going to do because they don't know what my skin will tolerate, they will decide on the day. It will probably involve more bloody pigskin. And it could be any day. Great. That is all about as reassuring as Dr Fabulous' secretary answering my questions. I must stay calm. Take deep breaths. Resist the urge to put some more people on the vodoo site. Take up yoga. Ring little bells. Maybe I will play one of those inappropriate games, I am old enough. That is a good idea. Let me get out of this uniform and get my game on....(I think that is what the youth of today say) Later, haters. Tootles (they say that too) Till next time.

Friday, 22 March 2013

Snow, half marathons, ski instructors, speech therapy and The Bulk Club

Sorry, sorry, sorry. I have not written this for so long. I do try to write it once a week, but you know how it is people. Life does not always go that way, does it? I can't actually remember when I last wrote this, but then I can't remember where I put my car, so that doesn't mean much! So what is going on? Well a huge gale is brewing outside and the temperature is dropping.

"So what?" you say. "Have we waited all this time to read a blog about the bloody weather? You are more British than we thought"  Patience, please! Give me a chance! Of course I am not going to blog about the weather, please! I might be boring at times, but not that boring (I hope!) Have you forgotten what is happening this weekend? Honestly, you accuse me of being boring, but you are just neglegent people, hmm maybe that is not a word, or maybe it isn't spelled like that.

"OH MY GOD! YOU ARE A SPEECH THERAPIST" you all shout. I know, people, wow, you are touchy today! But that does not mean I can spell. I am a speech therapist and here is what I do NOT do:

- spelling
- elocution
- help people from other countries sound as if they are British

Ok? So at least we have cleared that up. "Ah you are a speech therapist" said one of the lycra crew in a spin class (when I used to bloody go to spin, don't get me started on spin. I will get started on spin later, let me tell you that spin class is in for a lot of bad language.....) Anyway, what was I saying? ah yes, man in lycra. "Yes" I mutter, thinking piss off and leave me alone. Read my face, it is saying bugger off old man. Chat your own age up. But no, he missed those signs and carried on. "Do you think you could get rid of my accent?" he was from another country people, I will refrain from saying which one. As the expression goes, if I had a penny for every time I got asked if I could make people "speak properly" (i.e. sound middle class) and a penny every time I got asked if I could make accents disappear, I would be loaded people. But  I don't get a penny, I just get in to a very bad mood and want to kick the person (is that wrong?)

OK, I can't contain myself any longer, I have to rant and rave about that spin class now. Have I ever written about spin classes? I can't remember. Well, I used to (NB USED TO) go to the advanced spin class, not because I was so good at it, but because it was the only class I could get to easily. What did you ask? What is spin? Don't you know? Well, people, it is basically a class where you ride a bike that is stuck to the floor up imaginary hills for a long time, and you never go down the hills! You ride the bike to very loud music and flashing lights, as if you were back in your days of clubbing but believe me that is where the similarity ends! You might think you sweated when you went clubbing, but did you need a towel to wipe up a lake of sweat from? No, I think not. When you do advanced spin, you sweat so  much you wonder where the hell it is all coming from. It is pretty gross to be honest. Anyway, in this class a lot of ageing men squeeze themselves into very tight lycra, yes that will be the same men who are driving around red sports cars. Body shape is no obstacle, let me tell you. Hmm, I know it is digressing, but I did go through a strange, and luckily quite short phase of liking very overweight men. I was tempted to go to a club called the Bulk club. It is all in the name really isn't it? The mind does not need to boggle because it does what it says on the tin! Spin was a little like I imagine that club to be, without the spanking. Anyway, I was very young I hasten to add. Anyway, Anyway, enough of that. What on earth was I saying? Where is this going? Ah yes, bloody spin, growl, growl. So why do these men push and pull themselves into all this lycra? What could the reason be? Any guesses? Yes, you got it! A lady is involved! A blonde, of course. And what does she wear? that is a good question. Not much is the answer. Once she wore a t-shirt, but now she wears a bra, much to the delight of the men in lycra (who are all in the front row, naturally!) Once she wore three quarter length lycra shorts. Does she wear those now? Does she hell people! We are nearly at the pants stage. So can you imagine what this minx is doing to all these ageing men? Someone did actually  have a heart attack. I am surprised only one.  Do you think a lot of women go to her class? No. They do not. Funny that, isn't it? Anyway, I actually like the half naked lady, well I have gone off her a bit now! That might be a little obvious! So I went to the class the other week, I had not been for a long time so was a bit rusty. I was also very tired and had not been feeling very well. "Why the hell did you go?" you ask. Another good question. Hmm you are on the ball, aren't you? Oh I went cos I am me and that is how I roll people! That is just the wild, wacky kind of gal I am, throwing caution to the wind....... Actually, I went cos of the bloody half marathon that I have not done enough training for! That is another story, people!!! So I went to the class and I asked Mata Hari (I don't know how to bloody spell that!) if I had got my saddle and handlebars at the right height. She looked at me with quite a lot of contempt, no doubt thinking either a. Wish this other member of the female sex would piss off so I can have all these lycra studs to myself or b. Wish she would piss off cos she is so crap at spin  or maybe a bit of a and b. "You've got them a bit low" she drawled. "Do you want a basket to go on the front with some sandwiches in?" Oh! Bitchy! Hmmm, the dark side is coming out. We both smile through gritted teeth at each other "Thank you so much for your help" I say sweetly, imaging her being run over by one of the spin bikes.

And that is not it people! Oh, no! She had just started! We all got on our bikes and sped off, well I didn't speed off, and would old Mata Hari let that go? No, of course she would not. "There's only one person in this room who can't keep up the pace and SHE is not in the front row" Oh, that makes it hard to guess who it could be, doesn't it. "There's no excuse for not pushing yourself. Unless you are that person in the middle row who can't do this"

AND that is still not it people! After about half an hour, I thought "Oh, God! I am going to be sick and pass out!" So I got off my bike and wobbled my way to the door, trying not to vomit in my handbag. "Bye Luce" Mata Hari cheerfully calls out. At last, she has all that lycra to herself. Lady, you can have it! So that is the end of spin for me!

Let's just pick up on something of great importance that I said in that great big long paragraph! THE HALF MARATHON! I am sure you have not forgotten! So I have been kind of training. The problem is, people, that I have been bloody bloody bloody tired. And to be honest, that is why I have not written this. I have been bloody tired and a little bit depressed............................. They go hand in hand don't they. I still battle so much with fatigue, it really pisses me off BIG TIME. I know we all get tired, but sorry I DO get more tired than you!!! I DO WIN this one, thank you! and I hate to give in to it, that pisses me off even more and actually makes it worse! Maybe that was obvious! Who cares? I never take any notice of that fact! So I have not run that much because it hurts, it is exhausting, it is hard - need I go on? Are you getting the picture? So now I am in a slight panic as the race is on Sunday and today is Friday. Even with my unclassified grade in maths (that means I got a zero), I can work out that is in two days time. Bloody soon. And that is why I mentioned the weather, people. Now do you get it? What I am saying is:

1. I have not trained enough
2. I am tired and do not feel 100%
3. It is going to snow on the day of the half marathon

Could it get any better?! I have done two 11 mile runs recently. That bloody hurt and made me want to cry - and of course I have to do another two miles on top of that "Two more miles isn't much, you wimp" you say. It bloody is when you have already run 11 miles! You try it! So spare a thought for me on Sunday, please, at ten o'clock, and at eleven o' clock, and at 12 o'clock! I was hoping to do it about 2 hours 20  minutes (don't forget about five miles of it is UPHILL!) but if it is snowing and windy and bloody freezing, maybe it will take longer!

Just braved the elements to go to Sainsburys................never a joy, no matter what the weather. Oh well, I know I won't come last, or do I know that? Let's not go down that road! So the other BIG news is that I had another injection and let me tell you my left breast, aka the implant, aka the pig skin implant is now not that far off the size of my right breast, aka the real breast. The difference is a little depressing as the implant is obviously solid and pert (although it does feel a little like a water bed, well what I imagine a water bed would feel like!) and the other side is saggy and a bit sad. I don't think there is any muscle in that breast any more. So if you saw me from left you would think "Wow! That 20 year old has great boobs!" and if you saw me from the right you would think "Wow! That 60 year old has saggy boobs!" Quite a contrast! But as you know, Dr Lovely will wave his magic knife and make them both look like the bosoms of a 20 year old! Hope he does not get confused and make them both look like the breasts of a 60 year old. He would lose his status as Dr Lovely if he did that!

God, I have got too many bloody everyday tasks to do, first Sainsburys, now I have to feed my children! Wish they could feed themselves, well they would if they could and no guessing what they would eat! Both of them have friends over for sleepovers............... yes, so  not much sleep will be had by anyone. "Oh, God. You would say that" my son groans "Just because you were born in the (pause) 60's" That seems to be the reason for everything. I don't really get it, to be honest, but that's because he was born in 2000 and I can't relate to his generation. Last night we had a meeting at their school because Phoebe is going skiing for the first time! So exciting! I remember going skiing when I was a teenager. I hope she doesn't get up to what I got up to! I was very naughty, given the tone of this blog tonight with the bulk club that might not be a big surprise. I am not naughty now, if that makes it any better. Let's not dwell on my skiing holidays, but let's just say a ski instructor was involved. I would not like me for a daughter! Poor granster! God, how on earth did I get on to this? That is enough confessional stuff for this blog! God only knows what secrets I will give away next!

I want to put a picture of my two contrasting bosoms up for you to see - don't worry with a top on! I am not planning on a bit of topless modelling! And no, before you ask, I have never done that! But I am too thick to work out how to put pictures up without one of my children from the 90s and 2000 to help me. Yes, Felix it is because I was born in the 60s (and a few other reasons like being a bit dumb, having no common sense, no memory and no logic.) I will put them up tomorrow when one of my kids can help me, if they are in a fit state after the sleepovers! Thanks to everyone who sponsored me, I think I am up to £400 and something, so that is great! Thanks. It will keep me going in the snow, the gales, the blizzards................................. remind me about this next year please if I try to do this again!

Friday, 1 March 2013

Hmmmm, strange .......... very strange ...........

Hmm, strange things are going on, is it to do with moon? Who knows. Or lay lines (what ever they are!)? No idea. Maybe the Bermuda Triangle? Hmm, I think the only thing we have established here is I know bugger all about the moon, lay lines and the Bermuda Triangle! Do you want to hear about the strange happenings?! Of course you do! Ok, here we go. I'm going to do a count down of strange occurrences, saving the best for last!

Strange happening number one
Felix has had a sudden personality change. He has become, I can hardly bear to say it in case I jinx it, he has become helpful! He is nearly 13 and he actually washed up for the first time in his life a week ago. Shocked? What shocks you more a. that he has actually lifted a finger to help me or b. that I have obviously wrapped him up in cotton wool and this is his first experience of dirty plates and washing up liquid? Even I can't answer that one! He also tidied the kitchen, another first and his room. His personal hygiene still leaves quite a lot to be desired, but people, we can't have it all, can we? Rome wasn't built in a day, as we all know!




On one of our many visits to the my favourite place, hospital, I sat in a separate section of the waiting room and told staff he wasn't  my son! Believe me, you would have done the same! "Is there a McDonalds here?" he said loudly. "No" I muttered "What about KFC?" "NO, this is a hospital for God's sake! I say through gritted teeth, wishing the ground would open and swallow him for about ten minutes! "So? What difference does that make?" Let's not answer that, let's just ignore him............ greasy hair and all.

Strange happening number two
I don't know maybe I am imagining this one, I probably am, but I think I have got a bit faster at running. I know you are all yawning, looking at your watches and thinking who cares? Well, people, I care! And this is my bloody blog!! So I will write about this if I want to! Don't worry, I won't write much! By the way, while we are on the subject of running, thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has sponsored me. I am up to about £250 now, so that is great, thank you!

Here comes the biggie! Get ready

Strange happening number three
Well, yesterday I presented some of my resources from my books to a room full of Speech and Language Therapists - very clever Speech and Language Therapists, I have to say. The first half of the meeting was taken up talking about very intellectual details of my profession - don't worry I won't recount it all to you! "Hmmm (that is my word du jour, hmmmmmm) perhaps I should lock myself in the toilet and stay there till everyone has gone?" I wondered, thinking of the extremely low brow content of my presentation. "I have definitely made a mistake thinking I could share my ideas here" I pictured myself being eaten alive by very clever therapists, never working again, leaving in pieces.................. "And now Lucy is going to share some of her resources with us" oh god who said that? Blimey, I am on, oh god, can I still run away? NO, I could not run away. But do you know what? And this is the strange happening, it went really well! Hmmmmm............... they all really liked my resources, my ideas, my pictures! I have had so much sodding bad luck for so bloody long - what the hell have you been playing at, God? Even if I was a mass murdering amoral lunatic in a past life, I deserve a break like anyone else! Forty nine, or is it 50, I don't know, years of drama, disaster, I have had more than my bloody fair share, that is for sure!!! So it feels really good, really warm, really great to have some good things happening! Because people it does not stop there!!! Oh, no ladies and gents there is more!

Strange happening number four
You might be thinking "I don't read this blog for good news! I want more tragedy! More drama! More blood and gore!" Don't worry, dear reader, I am sure you will get more of that stuff! It is never far away  is it? When I got home after my low brow talk, I had a little look at Amazon, I have been looking a lot recently to see if my book is on. Up until yesterday, I had not seen my book, but people, do you know what? "Just bloody tell us!" you are probably all shouting - this is dramatic suspense people - I know you want me to get on with it, ok, here goes. Well, when I looked last night not only was my book for sale on Amazon, but there were only three copies of it left! How cool is that?!!!!!!! Pretty wicked, as the kids would say, magic....... really it is just pretty wow! I am pretty blown away by it all to be honest!!!






There we go, my strange happenings. So what has been going on apart from that? Well, the usual really. Lots of visits to see Dr and Nurse Lovely, always a pleasure. Did I tell you I bought Dr Lovely some purple carrots? He has a thing about carrots, so I thought would like those and he did. Most people would like a bottle of wine or chocolates, but carrots do it for him. So they put another 50 ml of saline in my lovely bosoom. Very exciting! I love it! Next week I am having the final injection and then I will have surgery to make my breasts the same size. So it is nearly over. WOW, pretty mega. God what is happening to me? Why do I keep talking like a 13 year old? Sorry, strange things are happening to me....................innit?

"So will you get a champagne reception now?" my mother asked. "No. I hate to disappoint you, but writing speech and language therapy books, I think it is highly unlikely that I will ever get a champagne reception. And given that I don't drink, I don't really want one" "Well, I drink, and I want one" my mother replies. The world of Speech and Language Therapy is not really a glamorous world. How many speech and language therapists do you know? Are they in Gucci? I think not. Are they in Hello rubbing shoulders with the stars, or at least with footballers? No way hose.

I should go running today............. it's so cold ................... hmmmm ............. maybe I will wait a bit............ or maybe I will do a spin class later with all my middle aged friends in tight lycra................

I take back strange happening number two! I went running last night and it was terrible, partly because I ran at the end of the day and was knackered and because it was bloody dark and I couldn't see where I was going!
Top tip: don't run in the dark!

I ran nine miles, but it took forever and I couldn't walk afterwards, not very encouraging considering I have about three weeks to go! I don't think I will be able to run it in two hours. Bugger. I think I better get a bloody good outfit for the event so that even if I come last, I will look fabulous!

The kids are going to see Coolio on Saturday. Do you know that even the mention of his name, Coolio, makes me clench my fists, have very dark thoughts and go on the vodoo website. That is not very mature, is it? Again and again, I ask myself how did I ever get together with the Darth Vader of all mankind? I threw away my entire portfolio thanks to that evil bastard telling me I couldn't draw, had no artistic talent and no taste!!!! In those days, I was so in awe of old Darth, so unable to see him for the sadistic manipulating bastard he is, that I couldn't laugh it off. I used to keep lots of notebooks and have ideas for books and he used to laugh at me "What are you going to do? Put it in a little book?" he used to sneer. So I never did anything, I stopped drawing, stopped writing. I can never forgive him for robbing me of those years. GGGGRRRRR! 

The difference between us is immense - the size of the galaxy. Over on the Death Star with Coolio / Darth, everything is obsessively in its place, no ornaments, no pictures, no sign of character. No colour. No mess. No pets, because people they are dirty and spread disease, of course!!! Rigid order. Here on the Millenium Falcon (Keep up people we are talking spaceships on Star Wars!!!!) there are pictures everywhere, masses of colour, shelves galore - he wouldn't  let me put up any pictures or shelves so I have them EVERYWHERE! -  general disorder and masses of cats! "You are so disorganised" Felix grumbled this morning as I searched high and low for my car keys (a daily occurrence, sadly!) "Don't worry, Felix. You'll soon be in a very organised place, with no mess, no lost keys!" He is about to have a weekend so opposite to his everyday life. Maybe he will prefer it. And will onion barji be there? Will Coolio / Darth introduce her or claim she is the cleaner as he has sworn to Phoebe that no woman shares his flat ................................

Anyway, I can't sit around writing this all day, people, in the absence of storm troopers to help me tidy up, I guess I have to do it .................... live on the Millenium Falcon is not always easy ..................... but I would rather be here than on the dark side with Darth............................................

Sunday, 24 February 2013

Pig skin, soap boxes and breasts

What a week! I definitely DO NOT want any more weeks like that one, thank you very much! "What happened?" you cry. What didn't happen, more like! I am starting to think that I was a very very evil person in a past life. The kind of person who would have made Darth Vader look like an innocent little fluffy kitten. Yes, that bad. 

The good news is it is not bad anymore!! "Hurray!" you cry. Yes,  hu bloody rray! I tell you what, my grief and despair cost me dearly in  lipstick, which I am never going to wear. Oh, well, what is lipstick in the face of happiness? Anyway, dear reader, I am waffling. I apologise, let's get on with it!

Hold on, hold on. Before we get started, there is just one more thing. I am afraid I need to get up on to  my soap box. That's better. I am sorry, I need to give you a little lecture, just a short one. Get comfortable, get a drink, but don't go away! Here we go. 

Did you know that one in three people are affected by cancer? 

Did you know that one in eight women get breast cancer? 

Did you know that breast cancer continues to kill a large percentage of women? It is the third biggest killer out of all the different types of cancer. 

Did you know that drugs like Tamoxifen and Heceptin are keeping women alive for longer?

Thanks to Cancer Research, great progress has been made, but we are a long long way off from developing a vaccine to protect people from cancer. Cancer Research needs a HUGE amount of money to continue the great work they are doing. 

Please help me to raise money for Cancer Research. Despite having been ill this month, and not being able to train much, I will be running the Hastings Half Marathon and I WILL NOT WALK a single step of the way. Please sponsor me at www.justgiving.com/LucySanctuary1502 

Ok, I'm done! That's it! I'm off the soap box! That wasn't too bad, was it? Well, having been up and down to St Thomas' so many times this week, packing and unpacking my bloody bag, thinking I would be kept in and of course, thinking I was going to die, it is official, I am ok!!! Big cheer, massive celebration! I did not have cellulitus, remember that lovely picture on my last blog entry?! Don't worry, there are no more of those in store! I do not have invasive breast cancer - big sigh of relief I can tell you. I am allergic to the pig skin that they put under my own skin. I have had so many jokes about pigs, no more please! I just have to lump it. I could have taken anti histimines, don't know how to spell that, but I am allergic to them, so I can't. Do you know what? I don't actually care.  I am so glad to be alive, to be at home, I don't care. 

"Mrs Sanctuary" said Dr Lovely "That means we can make your breast bigger again" OMG, I am over the moon! "Nurse Lovely will do it for you" Yes, there is a nurse Lovely. I haven't told you about her, have I? What can I say? She is lovely! Calm, kind, funny, just lovely. I don't like having the saline injected into my breast much. The needle is so huge, I go weak at the knees and I can't get used to watching my breast inflate like a balloon. It is very odd! But, wow! It looks good! It is the pertest little breast I have ever seen! I am very happy with it. "We will do one more injection, Mrs S" said Dr Lovely admiring the present of purple carrots I gave him. Yes, purple carrots and no I am not making this up, google them. Blimey, this blog is informative. All those facts about cancer and now purple carrots, what more could you want?! Another lipstick, maybe. Anyway, back to Dr Lovely. "And then we will operate!" I can't swear to it, but I think his eyes twinkle when he says words like operate, surgery, cut open, theatre....................................... So, dear readers, do you know what that means? That means that my dream of having two breasts is fast becoming a reality!!! It is so exciting I can't tell you. I am already trying on bikinis, who cares if I am too old to wear them and look completely gross? Not me, I am all about the breasts. 

Believe it or not, Coolio actually said he would have the children for a night if I went in to hospital. Poor Coolio. He was a very handsome man when he was younger. I am not saying he is not handsome now, but in a kind of ageing man way, you know what I mean. He started going bald about five years ago. For a man like Coolio this is bad bad news. Babe magnets need a full head of hair, whatever they might say in magazines like Cosmopolitan. He used to order some strange smelling tablets that were supposed to prevent balding (is that a word?) and he used to rub some strange herbal remedy into his scalp. Did they work? What do you think? When Phoebe last saw him, she was looking at pictures on his phone and she came across one of the top of his head! He had obviously been checking his bald patch and forgotten to delete it! Yes, Coolio, it is still there! How about investing in a toupe? Could look good............................................

I've got to go, I am cooking a roast and it is all demanding my attention! Thank you so much to everyone who has donated to my run already. I am really grateful. It is on 24th of March if anyone wants to come and watch it.......................... I will not be dressed up as a bear or anything like that................... but I will have magnificent breasts!!!! 

Saturday, 16 February 2013

A pear shaped week

Things have definitely gone a bit pear shaped. 




On all fronts really: health, children, work, life. Perhaps it was on the cards, I have had a really long spell without that much trouble in any of those areas, and now all are troublesome! So where shall we start? How about health? One of my favourite topics, and one on which I pride myself, as you know, as being a bit of an expert. I actually diagnosed myself this week, and guess what? I got it right! "You are very good with google, Mrs Sanctuary" said Dr Lovely. I smiled and pictured myself on the other side of the desk: Consultant Sanctuary. It has a good ring about it, don't you think?  I have a little while to go before I am quite as experienced and capable as him, and I don't think I will ever do head and neck surgery, which he really enjoys. I failed to see what was diagnosed as an allergy was actually cellulitus. "Cellu what?" you all ask "Wouldn't a bit of exercise sort that out or a cream by L'Oreal?" No, that is cellulite. Let me help you understand the difference. If you have this, you have cellulite.


If you have this, you have cellulitus. 














One is serious. The other is not (well, in the eyes of some it might be) Cellulitus is an infection which turns to septesemia (can't spell that sorry!) if left untreated.

The good news is I did eventually diagnose myself. I was given three options: invasive breast cancer (that is a very very nasty form of breast cancer that does not have a good prognosis, so I didn't want that diagnosis), the return of my cancer (obviously I did not want that one either!) or an infection (I didn't want that one either, but that is the lesser evil of the three).

It was not a good week, as I am sure you can appreciate. I knew something was wrong, but didn't know what.  And it was a horrible reminder that I am still very much in the clutches of the big C. That is so depressing. I had not been ill for ages. I had got lulled into a false sense of security, I missed all the signs - hugely swollen chest, painful shoulder and chest, sizzling hot breast (not hot it the way Felix and Phoebe use that word, I mean hot as in temperature hot!), feeling exhausted and really miserable. What kind of a doctor am I?! Anyway, I am now on the mother of all antibiotics that could cure any infection, no matter how severe. They make me feel dizzy, I can't stand up till lunchtime, queasy, and just yuk all over basically. I had to promise to take them all. I am never going to break a promise that I make to Dr Lovely.

So I am on the mend, slowly. I am having the second injection of saline on Friday. I have had lots of arguments with Dr Lovely, as you know, about my breasts. We had the show down on Friday, and he won, because basically he does know what he is talking about and I do not. I had been worried that he was what is commonly known as a boob man. But he is just a very good surgeon - they can be easily confused you know! He describe, and showed me what my breasts will look like. Hmm, pretty impressive, I have to say. Ladies you might be a little envious - although I am sure you would not want to go through so much hassle and heart ache to end up with such magnificent bosoms. The thing is they have to make my breast the same as the implant and the implant is very pert and firm, so they have to make my breast pert and firm too!!! I am very happy about that!

I know I should not say this and it probably sounds a bit odd, but I love my appointments with Dr Lovely. He is the most amazing surgeon and doctor I have ever had. I was heartbroken when he told me is leaving in April. And my opinion of him went up even higher than it already is when he said he was thinking of going to work for a charity in a conflict area. Is there anything wrong with this man? I think not. He is the perfect man. He has a very lucky wife.

Talking of wives, Phoebe went to see Coolio last weekend. "Why did she go to see him?" you might be wondering. Let me tell you why. I took her to a friend of mine who is a hairdresser and Phoebe, who is nearly 15, had a major tantrum, yes you read that right, TANTRUM, in her house. It was very very embarrassing, I can tell you. What was it over? World politics? No. Women's rights? No. Hair. It was over hair. She refused to have more than a centimetre cut off her hair, although it was very very split because she straightens it all the time and she went mad because she had the teeniest tiniest highlights put in. "Every one will laugh at me. No one will talk to me. I will have no friends and it is ALL YOUR FAULT. I HATE YOU!" Good to know my daughter has all the right priorities in life....... The tantrum went on and on and on. I was feeling so ill and eventually I just couldn't listen to her any more and asked her to go and stay with him as I couldn't take it, and she did. Why did she go? I will tell you, because I would not pay more money for her to have the highlights dyed back to her normal colour - her father of course would. "Does your mother not understand teenage girls"? he asked. He who of course knows so much about this age group, especially if he is dating them. "Of course I will take you to the hairdressers. Poor poor you" Bloody bastard. I don't find myself liking him anymore over time. She was on a mission at his flat, a mission to find evidence of onion barji and baby. "As you can see" said Coolio "I live alone. There is no evidence of a woman's touch, is there" Or an onion's touch............ He followed her everywhere she went, managing her movements. In the bathroom, at the back of a cupboard Phoebe found woman's shampoo and conditioner - could it be evidence she thought? She also found a locked door "You don't need to go in there" Coolio said "It is just the laundry room" So why is it locked? Is all your laundry contaminated? Or is poor onion barji in there? And Phoebe saw a buggy in the hall. "Oh that is the neighbour's" said Coolio "Why do they keep it there when the flats are so big?" asked Phoebe. Oh well, she got her hair done so it wasn't all bad.

At the pinnacle of my bad week, something good happened. "What?" you cry. Let me show you - don't worry it is not a picture like the cellulitus!





Oh, what am I reading? Oh my goodness me, I am reading my own book! Yes, the first one finally came out! How proud am I?!!! Especially as that was written during my cancer treatment. Feels like something positive coming out of something negative, feels good!

I have to finish this soon as I have just taken two more of those hideous pills and I will start feeling awful shortly. Before I go, this has a put a real spanner in the works for my training for the half marathon. I am really annoyed about it and I still can't run cos I feel too ill. I ran 10 miles last Sunday in one hour forty seven minutes - that is a nine minute mile! I was very very happy - but now a week has gone by and the most exercise I have done is getting a sick bowl. Hopefully I can start running again once I finish these pills - that will be Wednesday. Fingers crossed!

The kids went to their school disco this week. Those were the days. I would love to go to a school disco............ the kids would never let me, of course. Felix said that he decided to try to pick up one of the very beautiful Russian six form girls.  The Russians thought he was really cute until his motives became clear! Let's hope he is not taking after his father. I don't think he is, Felix likes older women, Coolio likes much younger vegetables. Sorry, I got to go in search of the sick bowl............................




Saturday, 26 January 2013

Rantings of a totally pissed off middle aged lady

I don't know what is wrong with me. I just can't motivate myself to do anything. "How many miles are you running a week?" the children's games teacher asked me, because as you know I have signed myself up for the Hastings half marathon. I shuffled my feet, mumbled something that even I could not understand and ran off.  I am wracked with guilt, how am I going to run the bloody thing if I don't do any running? Yesterday I wore all my running gear all day so it would look as if I had been running! But the only running I did was down the stairs! Is that bad to wander around looking as if you do lots of exercise, but actually you don't do any? I feel really comfortable in lycra - "comfortable"I sound like a granny, don't I? And I have gone off the style register really. The kids were very embarrassed "Why do you have to wear all that running gear? Stop jogging on the spot, it isn't a good look, mum" said Phoebe, totally mortified. I don't know, I think I look ok in my leggings..................when I say ok, I mean for a woman of 49, ok, 48 (and three quarters)

I finally went for a big run today in temperatures of -2. That was not ideal, I can tell you. I couldn't feel my fingers until I had run at least five miles. It was so bloody cold, I still feel cold. I was the sole runner braving those temperatures! I need some thermals. I am hoping that now I have done one, I will be more motivated.


I seem to lack motivation in all areas at the moment. I don't know why. Maybe I have been overdoing it and just worn myself out. I still get really tired. To be honest, I am nowhere near my former self. I still struggle with so much. The house is in a total tip and I just have not got the energy to tidy up. The only food in the house is chocolate spread and cat food, not a great combination, just the thought of going to a supermarket exhausts me.




Perhaps I should not write this blog this week, I am not in a great mood really. I am so fed up about so many things. Life feels so hard. I can't seem to laugh at it or shake off my perpetual black mood. "Why?" you ask. Why? Good question. Let's face it, I have so much to be happy about don't I? One and a quarter breasts, fear of recurrence of cancer and regular nightmares about every having had cancer, a totally unsupportive loser of an ex husband who might possibly be the nastiest most unpleasant man in the country, a job I am not enamoured by, a whole lot of dreams that are likely to remain in my head and never come true, no money, a dead cat and don't even get me started on my children. "Send them to boarding school" my mother often says (that was her answer with me and look at what good that did............. thousands of pounds for an unclassified in maths, chemistry and physics - for those of you who do not know, that means I scored a big fat 0 in those papers! Oh and years of unhappiness, let's not forget that one) Would you allow me the pleasure of having a big big rant? I think it might make me feel slightly better - well, you can't really stop me, it is my blog and I shall do what I want! I just like to be polite! Ok here we go. Rant on:

1. If you don't have children, well done, because currently I wish I did not. Shock, horror, yes I know that is an awful thing to say. And yes I know they bring me lots of joy and of course I would die to save them, but even taking all that into consideration I am pretty bloody livid with them. Collective gasp. You wouldn't be gasping if you were their mother, I can tell you. In fact, you would be knocking back the Polish vodka (that is the only alcohol I have) - I can't even do that because I don't drink. Let me tell you why I am so mad. Ok, do you remember that photo of Felix's room? That was nothing. I went in their yesterday and it was a million times worse than that. The entire contents of his room were on the floor including his breakfast for the last week, enough empty packets of crisps to cover the floor - twice, the blinds were down, it smelt worse than ever. OMG it was horrendous, worse than that, it was gross. "Well, what do you expect? He is a teenager" you are no doubt all thinking. I know that, but  we had such a huge row about this only a week ago. "I will change, mum, sorry. I will help you more..." yes, yes, bollocks, bollocks, bollocks. Unless he thinks keeping dirty cups and plates upstairs is helping me because it means their is less washing up? But he is not the biggest offender, oh yes, Phoebe can top that. Another collective gasp. "Really?" you ask in amazement. Yes, really. "Hmm what has she done?" you all wonder "Was her room messy? Did she borrow some of your clothes and look better in them than you?" Very funny. No, none of those. Phoebe, may I remind you has a track record of breaking things. Let us just remember what she has broken: my computer (she danced on it in high heels); her computer (she fell asleep using it and when she rolled over the computer flew off the bed and smashed against the wall); two bedside lights - I don't even know how she did that and I don't think I want to know; a beautiful antique pot that my mother gave me; the lid to the bread bin which was hand made by a potter in Oxfordshire many years ago, i.e. it is not replaceable; four mugs; two bowls; her ipod; her mobile; two radios - do you get the picture? Accident prone, careless - possibly dyspraxic (reference for all occupational therapists and speech therapists). She has not broken anything for a while, or if she has she has hidden it. UNTIL TODAY! Let's do a quiz. Which of the following do you think she broke:

a. My imac
b. Felix's ipad
c. Felix's radio

All would be bad, but may I just remind you that I, in a moment of absolute stupidity, bought Felix an ipad for his birthday. I know dumb dumb dumb. You do not need to tell me, because if you remember correctly, he then trod on it and completely smashed it. So what did idiot do? I bought another one because it was not covered on the insurance. And do you know what? Yes, I think you have guessed it. Phoebe broke that ipad today. Two ipads down the drain. Let us not add up the total amount of that. I am so fed up I can't even talk to her. And to make matters worse, she is denying it - as all teenagers would. "Ok so I was using it, but I swear to God, on my life, I didn't do that" Really, so what happened? A ghost came in and did it? Oh I know it must have been one of the cats........... Wish I could have a drink, even if it is 15 year old Polish Vodka.

2. I don't want another partner, thank you. And I most certainly don't want my old one back. But sometimes being a single parent, as the Americans would say, sucks. I know many women with partners who work long hours or work away from home think they have it as hard as single parents, ladies you do not. Sorry if that is shocking. At some point your partner comes back and you can have a little time child free - even if it is ten minutes in the bath. You do have someone to help you, to discuss big decisions with, to support you, to talk to, to turn to when the going is really tough. I have three cats, who are all very nice but utterly inadequate in these skills. Good at catching mice though. And you know, sometimes I just want to scream. Every decision is mine. Every difficulty has to be dealt with by yours truly, single handed. I have no one to help me do the shopping, the cooking, the cleaning, the washing, I have no one to help me with any of this and sometimes, like now, that just feels so hard. And more than that, I am forced to put my own wishes to the bottom of the pile because (take note Coolio if you ever read this, which is highly unlikely and would probably result in legal action!) that is what responsible parents have to do. Responsible, that is the word - I hate that word. I am fed up with being responsible. I want to take off, I want to travel, I want to really really live, but no, I have to get up every day in Battle, work, shop, cook, clean, do the washing, work, shop, cook, clean, do the washing.....................................  I have said to the kids let's just go, let's take off and travel the world for a year. They both looked at me blankly "You can't make me do that" said Phoebe "Mum no offence but I would rather do that with people my own age" said Felix. Cats, are you interested?

Sorry, before we leave this topic, I am still so mad that I had to bury the bloody cat. That was so hard. Ladies, you would never have to do that, your partner would always bury a dead animal, God it is a bummer.

I have to interupt my rant. Why? Because I have to feed my children, wash up and tidy the bathroom. I can't even do it listening to Turkish music because I am only allowed to listen to that in the car - and it is not a cat that made that rule. I can't listen to Barry White, unless I wear headphones (and I forgot to say that Phoebe has broken at least three pairs of those) - I can't listen to anything on the bloody ipad anymore can I? Maybe I should go to the gym. Or maybe I should just do and kick someone.................

Sunday, 20 January 2013

Mr Lovely

I know I have not written this for a while, but you know how life is. Lots has been going on, or as my children would say lots has been going down, not sure what the difference is between going on and going down.................. but I know they would be mortified if I used that lingo in public! But then they are mortified by anything and everything at the moment. Little do they know that I am going to buy myself a knee high pair of Dr Martins, that will really embarrass them, especially if I wear them with a smock as my style guru Nigel suggested. Anyway, enough of this nonsense! On with the blog!

Well, since I last wrote this a lot has happened: here is a taster - bosoms - lots of bosom action - teenage scumbag behaviour - granny wins a place in heaven - on going mourning for Alfie boy - running and snow. So much action, so much excitement................... if you are over 45! What shall we start with? Yes, my favourite subject, bosoms!!!! I had my first appointment to start inflating the expander - a medical term you should all remember........ but in case you don't I will remind you, let me just get my consultant's coat on and make some notes on my clip board. Listen carefully, class. An exapnder is like a balloon, and they gradually expand it with saline in order to stretch my skin so that they can put in the implant. Lesson over, let's get on with the nitty gritty, class! No talking, please!

I would  let my surgeon do anything, he is so amazing, he is a saint, a saviour. He is making a bigger difference to my life than any other man has ever made - that is not hard if you knew all my exes, a sorry list, many of them dead, locked up in secure units, under psychiatric care, picking up girls (and boys) at least half their age.................... A grand total of four brain cells between the lot of them. I am not proud.

Anyway, back to Mr Lovely, the surgeon (not his real name, obviously). Lying on the bed, I watched as he filled a HUGE syringe with saline. "I am just going to find the valve and put this in" he calmly explained.  The thought of running crossed my mind. A chill swept through my whole body, a wave of nausea. I couldn't take my eyes off that great big needle coming towards me. The valve, class, if you remember is actually under my skin - WARNING ALL THOSE WHO ARE FAINT HEARTED STOP READING HERE! Even I, tough me, nearly passed out as he injected all that liquid into my chest. I have had many weird experiences, especially the one on a boat with two men in Battersea Park, but this one was right up there. I literally watched my chest grow as he injected the saline. One  minute I didn't have a bosom, the next minute I did! You cannot imagine what that is like. I could never have imagined. When you have to deal with something really mega, like losing a breast, once you have made the decision to deal with it, you just get on with it. You don't  let yourself feel the emotions and sadness attached to that, you bury it all away and put all your energies into living. I did not realise what a heavy load I have been dragging around for the past two years until Mr Lovely gave me a bosom. I don't care that I currently have one fairly large, very saggy, breast and one tiny, very pert, breast. The thing is I have two and I am bearing them both proudly! I have shaken off my self consciousness, I don't care what anyone thinks because I have two bosoms!!! I can look in a mirror again, I can wear what I want, a huge weight of sadness has lifted from my shoulders and I feel happier than I have felt since this terrible journey started. And that is all due to Mr Lovely.

"That is big enough, Mr Lovely. Can you reduce my breast to that size, oh and can you make it as pert, please?" I ask excitedly unable to take my eye off my new amazing breast. "Lucy, that is much too small. YOu must have a bigger breast than that" he replies, surprised. "Why? I don't want big boobs, I don't need big boobs, I just want two and you have given me that" I say. "Strange" he replies "Most women want big breasts when they lose one to make them feel feminine. I have never met anyone who just wants a tiny bosom" In an instant, I realise that Mr Lovely knows more about women and breasts - we are going deep here - what it is to be a woman, what breasts mean to us and all that jazz - than most woman do. "I am like a psychiatrist as well as a surgeon" says Mr Lovely. What a strange job. What an amazing job. What a lovely man Mr Lovely is (he does still look like he is 10 though, I know he is older than 10 because I googled him!)

"We will do two more injections and then you can come back into hospital and we will reduce your remaining breast and make it the same size" Do you know what that means?!!! That means that by the summer I will have two bosoms that are the same size and no more surgery!!!! No more huge needles, no more huge reactions to strong medication, no more hospital!!! The down side is it means no more Mr Lovely. I could always make a life size cut out - would that be weird? Hmm maybe it would. So the next injection is in about two weeks time! Exciting stuff! "Can I come and tell you about my breasts?" I ask my manager. One of the admin team is passing as I say this. A look of complete shock and horror crosses her face. I can read her mind "OMG! Lesbians!"

"Mum" Phoebe shouts down the stairs. "Mum, I think you should come and see Felix's room" Oh dear. Suddenly I feel weaker than I did at the sight of that needle. My knees turn to jelly. "I can't" I say, responsible parent to the end. "I'd rather not know. Just close the door" "Mum, I am going to take a photo, you have to see it" No Phoebe I do not have to see it, thank you! But of course, I did. Piles of plates, one with some rotting chicken that the cats had started to eat, cups galore, empty packets of crisps, dirty clothes, the blind has been closed for at least six months, the window hasn't been opened since 2010 so the room has a certain aroma which will not be bottled! Get the picture? Talking of pictures, here is a picture. Yes, I know what you are thinking, yes, yes, I can hear you. "How could you let it get in that terrible state?" I am guilty as charged, no doubt. Can I just defend myself a little? Well I ask the kids to be in charge of their rooms as I can't work, manage the house, manage my health, write my books, do all my ex classes, etc single handed. So their rooms are their responsibilities, obviously that has gone wrong. When i said "How is your room looking?" he would say "Great" Now I know great means "disgusting" and I won't be making that mistake again. Kids.......... would I rather Felix's health hazard of a bedroom or Phoebe's moods? Hm that is a tough one. My daughter is turning into nice lovely kind teenage girl and devil child in front of my eyes, ask a question and see who will answer? Devil child? Spitting fire, spraying insults "Of course I am like that as YOU are my mother. You are so hopeless, I hate you......." you get the gist? And then lovely sweet kind teenage girl says "SOrry about that mum. I don't really hate you. You aren't really the ugliest, dummest, most embarrassing mother in the world....." Put my fingers in my ears, la la la la la, I am not listening, la la la la la la ..................................... wait till I have got my Dr Martins on, he he he he he, revenge will be sweet. Wait till my bosom is finished, I am only ever going to wear a bikini! Wait and see how that feels teenage kind lovely girl / devil child!

The one person who has been totally supportive, made all the right noises, not removed any of my clothes, not moved all the furniture round is the grandster. She has been amazing. The whole house would look like Felix's bedroom if it wasn't for her coming down once a week to help me.

This week I signed up for the Hastings Half Marathon, 13.2 miles of hills and torture. "How much training are you doing? How many miles are you running a week?" said the kids lovely games teacher, who ran the half in one hour forty minutes and was very disappointed.................. Well, the truth is I am not doing much! I haven't run that much for a while and it is so bloody hard you have to ease back into it - that is my excuse anyway. This week I have done two ten k runs, so I am starting to up my game, but I know I have to up it much more than that!!!!!!!! I am doing about two spin classes a week and something called body attack, which is literally that! Anyone care to join me? I am going to raise money for cancer research. I ran in the snow yesterday. Yes, it is snowing here, English snow not American snow, yes, yes, I know we are useless when it snows. Yes, yes, I know America does it better. We have about four centimetres here and life has come to a standstill!