BOY?

Is a boy? Is it Twiggy? Is it Rihanna? Is it some other gorgeous celebrity?!

No No, its just me.

Yesterday I decided to get my hair cut very short. Charlie Millers hairdressers took on the challenge and  Fiona one of the hospital social workers came up to the ward to cheer me on and make sure I didn't cry like a baby. And she did a great job! This was in  prep before it actually comes out (now) there is hair everywhere some sticking to my fingers as I type such a pain.

There I am posing away with my big hoops eh. I feel like I have no head (lack of hair).


Below is a picture of myself and my yummy mummy that all the nurses seem to think is my friend. She brings me food everyday, I love her. Damn, should have taken a picture of todays hospital lunch, looked like a congealed jelly that I wouldn't even give to my dogs. Its no 'Nandos' in here, I feel guilty for complaining about the food, because the care I get in here is incredible and I forget about all the people behind the scenes like all the guys in the lab, porters etc. One of my favourite nurses in the whole wide world (tehe) came in yesterday.

It was her last day and said her goodbyes to me. So Louise I shall miss you and I will definitely be getting in touch for some ranting haha.

I was just getting to enjoy my hair short then BAM all of it comes out. Don't want to talk about it. Sitting here with a scarf wrapped around my head, no exaggeration I look like a pirate with a big tuft of hair sticking out the top.
I've also got a sore arse from sitting on it for so long so I have to lie on my front all day. I can hear you thinking is she joking? Why is she telling everybody this? Well, since being here I have lost ALL my dignity. I do not care anymore.

I've also got square eyes still from too much TV. I'm like Mike TV (Charles and the Chocolate Factory durh). That was like complaint central.

Tomorrow is "Day 18" since I started my chemo which means that my counts could go up soon fingers crossed.  I just have to wait. And wait. wait.... The day the doctor comes in my room and says "Rachel today you can go h o m e." This will be me. Ho ho ho sitting laughing at my own jokes.

Also it is day 18 of being attached to the drip machine. As I mentioned before, I have to take it into the shower with me. Not having the best of days, my mood deteriorated whilst in the shower and I will not lie to you. I had a tantrum. I kicked the drip stand several times. I also recall stamping me foot a few times. Not only did I hurt my foot, I also pulled on the hickman line which made me even more angry because that hurt like a female dog.

I also should mention that the hospital phycologist was sent to visit me the other day. As lovely as she was, I felt the whole time she was there to crack me and make me cry. No mam. It was a 30 minute session where she grilled me with questions like "How did you feel when you got diagnosed?" Here is 

my analysis of her analysis of me. Before asking the questions, the hands get clasped together, the head tilts to the side, she leans forward, looks me in the eye and she asks in an extremely hushed voice questions I didn't care to answer, I felt like saying (as I do to everyone who grills me with hundreds of questions) "READ MA BLOG". But of course I didn't say that, I sailed through her questions and the final conclusion was "Rachel, I think you are coping very well."You can never crack moi. Well today she could have cracked me today by asking something simple like "Do you like the food here?"

Answer :

But is is her job I know and its good to know that I can talk to her whenever I like, we ended up having a pretty good chat after the initial grilling. Phycologist lady, if you are reading this and thinking about my temper tantrum...like I said before...

Tomorrow one of my wigs will come into my possession. I have ordered it from an american website and it looks lush on the website but I had to pick the colour "light brown" of a tiny colour chart. Please, please God, do not make me look like this..

I shall update you on my wiggy tomorrow. TTYL