We both said in unison: ‘I’m buying this.’
I have great hope for the life coach, PLUS I forgot that my friend Mari with whom I had lunch the other day sent me an information pack on becoming a life coach. I feel a new career coming on here – will check out Mari’s pack right now.
*Ten-Minute Life Coach, by Fiona Harrold Copyright © 2002 Fiona Harrold
November 12, Sunday
Me and Kerry and baby Daisy went to see Alison W’s new baby, who didn’t have a name when we arrived but Alison and her husband Mark had called her Angharad by the time we left. She is tiny and quiet. Kerry and Alison and I talked about the older siblings being a complete nightmare when they were babies, not sleeping, feeding constantly and generally taking the piss out of us. Elis slept in our bed for nearly five years, so when Osh came along I bought the queen of sleeping babies’ book – The New Contented Little Baby Book by Gina Ford – and from two weeks old I followed it to the letter.
The result is a child who sleeps independently, in fact doesn’t like being in bed with us at all and sleeps for thirteen hours a night. Apart from a few odd nights when he was teething he has been perfect. He doesn’t cry, have tantrums, always goes to sleep perfectly, no problems with food and doesn’t need the twenty-four seven attention that his brother demands.
Alison W looked very well, and although baby Daisy and baby Angharad are sweet, I would be too tired to have another.
November 13, Monday
I have shaved off all my hair. It was not a traumatic, life-changing moment – it’s just me without hair. I look like Paul with whom Rhodri works; he’s handsome and has his head shaved. My hair has been dead for weeks and if I run my fingers through it, most of it comes out. There are some patches that don’t, but I figured what’s the point of keeping those, because when it grows back it will be grey and dark brown in places and then I will want to colour it so it will be three different colours and different lengths. So I shaved it all off. I asked Rhodri if he thought I should get rid of it and he said if it was him, he would. Plus I’m fed up of hoovering hair up all of the time. Elis was on his Playstation, Rhodri was in London and Osh was hiding in the washing basket in my bedroom and is two and away with the fairies, so I don’t think he will be too traumatised by it and have to have counselling when he is older.
I knew Elis would be a petrified zombie for at least an hour on his Playstation until I told him he needed a break, otherwise he would have a fit seeing me do it. As it turned out, he didn’t move from the Playstation and has not noticed any difference because if I’m not wearing my wig I am wearing a turban which is a black, tight-fitting hat, so he never sees me without either of those. Osh watched with great interest from the washing basket as I did it. I got the hair clippers that I use to butcher Osian and Elis’s hair and just shaved it all off and Osh kept looking at me and saying periodically, ‘Mummy’s hair’s gone. Mummy’s hair’s gone! Mummy’s hair’s gone!’ Each sentence with a different intonation, going slightly higher each time.
November 14, Tuesday
Have eaten a whole box of Black Magic to myself. I don’t even like Black Magic. Gwyneth and David over the road gave them to me. I have the keys to their house in case their alarm goes off when they are away for a few days, and they gave me the chocolates ‘for the children’. Within two minutes of having them in the house I had opened them and eaten an entire layer – even the coffee one.
Am picking Elis up from school today to do reading and piano in a calm environment after last week’s fiasco when he was rude to Miss Fran; I want to avoid a repetition of that at all costs.
I have promised Elis an electric guitar for his eighth birthday if he practises the piano and is not rude to Miss Fran and listens to her for the next year. He has always wanted an electric guitar so this is a good bribe, plus secretly I’m hoping he will become a pop star and keep me in the lifestyle to which I feel I deserve to be accustomed. He is handsome and has a beautiful singing voice and is very musical. I am of course a bit biased but surely these are the foundations for becoming a pop star? I will definitely encourage him in this career path as having two degrees has never done me any bloody good or made me any money. He can buy me a bungalow in West Wales overlooking the sea and I will definitely have a real dog not an invisible one called Hugo, and sod what Rhodri says about dogs; he’ll just have to take an antihistamine tablet every day.
Kate is coming over tonight with her friend Cathy, the woman who has had breast cancer twice. Kate has been talking to her about me and Cathy wants to chat to me about chemo and wigs, since she didn’t have chemo first time round. I’ve been thinking that the main thing about cancer is to try and turn it around into something positive, which I think I am doing. Once you have it there’s no point bemoaning the fact. There’s nothing you can do about it, so you have to use it as a positive force for change. I will omit to tell Cathy that I can still sink a bottle of red in one sitting.
Rhodri came back late last night and when I woke up this morning, I said, ‘I’ve shaved my hair off,’ and showed him. I said, ‘I look like Paul.’ He just smiled and had to zip off to London again on the train. He rang later, saying, ‘You look more like Sinead O’Connor than Paul.’
I said to Kerry, who came over for the day, ‘I’ve shaved all my hair off but don’t ask to see it, I’m not a circus freak,’ then proceeded to take my wig off to show her. She said, ‘Oh my God, it just makes you look more beautiful.’ Come again, Kerry! She also said that it accentuated all my features and if it was her she’d be very happy with it. Ah, she has a knack of always saying the right thing.
I drank almost a bottle of wine by myself last night and am suffering this morning. I am hardly drinking at all, but now and again the old me says, ‘Fuck it,’ and I spend the rest of the day beating myself up because I have breast cancer and I am alive, and lots of women are dead and if they had the choice of living or giving up alcohol, I can guess what they might choose. I feel selfish for tempting the wrath of someone to stamp on my head and bring back my cancer, and I think about Mr Monypenny and Helen and Gill Donovan at Velindre and how fantastic they have been to me, and what they would think of me knocking back the wine when they are going out of their way to save my life.
November 15, Wednesday
Cathy was very nice and reminded me a bit of Babs. She was so laid back about it all, but I am an obsessive information-gatherer. She is having another lumpectomy and her nodes removed. Her lump is smaller than mine. I asked if they knew that the cancer had spread to the lymph nodes and she said they were taking them out as a precaution. I showed her my book on nutrition and the one by Dr Susan Love, and said they had been really useful to me but that some people were not information gatherers, so that was fine if she thought they might be too much info. I don’t know, maybe it’s better to be that way; she was very stoical about it all. I wondered if she ever sank a bottle of wine over this, or was it just me, but didn’t like to ask. I also wondered did she ever stay awake at night and worry if she would make it to sixty, but I didn’t like to ask that either. She has to have chemo this time.
November 16, Thursday
My fertility is all up the spout. I had a period after my last chemo session and it stopped, then it comes back again in dribs and drabs. Maybe this is a good sign that my ovaries are giving up the ghost. After all, they are my oestrogen-producing monsters. Having said that, it could mean that I am propelled into an early menopause, which is OK as I don’t want my ovaries. But I know from my mother and Rhodri’s mother that it’s hot flushes, irritability, mood swings and sleepless nights. Oh well, then I won’t be able to tell the difference between the menopausal me and the pre-menopausal me.
November 17, Friday
No Welsh today. I had to stay in for a delivery of a desk from MFI to put some order into the chaos that is my middle room. It’s a nice desk which is much better-looking than the previous one, but I really wish I had a spare room to put it in. Even though my rooms ar
e IKEA’s open-plan dream, it would be nice to shut the door on them sometimes and not have to worry about the mess.
Alison K came over with Erin and I told Erin (18 months) to look and learn but, if there was ever a man around, to pretend she didn’t have a clue. Alison K did not approve, and I told her I had made a rod for my own back over the years being an ardent bloody feminist, and it just meant every flat-pack bit of furniture (which, let’s face it, is almost every bit of furniture these days) I’ve had to put together because Rhodri is a sensitive new man and because of this feels he can be excused for not knowing how to do these things. There was a time when I didn’t know how to do these things, I just looked at the bit of paper like everyone else. I told Alison K this and she said, ‘Oh, he’s a creative.’ Hmm.
November 18, Saturday
It’s been raining for days; it’s driving me a bit mad. My mother offered to take the children but I thought I would save it for when I need it most after next week. So Rhodri is working all weekend and I have them to myself – lucky me. Julia came down for a flying visit and we just watched telly all day with the children jumping over the furniture and throwing cushions at each other with nothing much else to do other than destroy the house.
November 19, Sunday
Rhodri is working almost every weekend up until Christmas. He really has no idea how hard it is for me, emotionally if nothing else, to have to deal with going to chemo and him not being around. ‘Get someone to stay with you,’ he says, not thinking that completely disrupts their lives and they have children too (Julia and Jo). To be honest I feel sometimes it’s easier to be on your own because when people are here, we don’t have a spare room and it’s a hassle. Anyway, I have my student, Rachel, who I agreed to have assigned to me to follow my treatment, coming to the chemo session next Wednesday, which Rhodri was more than eager to get out of, and will think about asking someone to come and stay over on Wednesday night after the chemo.
This morning I took the boys to Merlin’s Castle, a nearby indoor play place, with the intention of letting them rush around like mad things on castles, slides, etc. while I drank cappuccino and read the paper. As per bloody usual the reality was somewhat different. I ordered lunch when I got there for us all and they were running about – fine so far, then lunch came, sausage and chips for them, soup for me. Osian managed to tip an entire bottle of water over Elis who was so wet, I had to wring his clothes out, and Elis said he wanted to go home. Then they started singing Happy Birthday over a Tannoy to some child who was having a birthday party, and Osian started crying, saying it was too noisy and he wanted to go home now. All this after I’d spent well over £16 and only had my arse on a seat for less than half an hour. I got them both to eat their food, told Elis to run around and his clothes would dry and sat Osian on my lap for an hour and a half while I drank my coffee and read the paper with him intermittently saying, ‘I need to go home now.’
I took Elis to the Dr Who concert down in the Bay – Rhodri was directing. Hazel has come to look after Osh, which I thought might be a bit of a nightmare as he is so mummy mummy at the moment and doesn’t sleep unless I put him to bed. But I figure Hazel is a trained nursery professional (she’s from Osh’s crèche) and is experienced enough to put up with a bit of hassle. When I left them they were sat on the sofa under a blanket eating liquorice laces and Osh didn’t even notice I’d gone. We arrived at the Millennium Stadium and there was some confusion over our seats and we had to move and were sitting behind the First Minister, Rhodri Morgan. Elis is always asking me who is the boss of Wales, so I said, ‘See that man in front? HE is the boss of Wales – his name is Rhodri Morgan.’
‘So two Rhodris,’ Elis said ‘are the boss tonight. Daddy is the boss of this show and he is the boss of Wales.’
The concert was absolutely fab. There were Daleks and monsters and Cyber-men coming from all over the place. Dr Who (who is actually David Tennent) was running the show and the orchestra played tracks from the series. Elis was spellbound by it all and halfway through he turned to me and said, ‘I just can’t believe this.’
‘What?’ I said, thinking he was going to say, ‘I’ve seen Dr Who,’ and he said, ‘I’m sat behind the boss of Wales.’ Oh, he’s definitely going to be a politician. We went to the scanner around the back of the Millennium Centre after the show to see Rhodri, and Elis sat in the scanner and said he wanted to be a director when he grew up. Ho hum, popstardom and riches out of the window then, for now.
November 20, Monday
Martyn came over today to discuss my return to work. I had emailed him and said I wanted to come back, all being well, in June and then have a staggered return. He said it was all fine and I would have to see the BBC doctor before I returned to make sure I was fit enough. I wondered if it was Dr Who, but apparently it’s someone in BUPA. He brought two Advent calendars and cakes for the boys – very sweet of him. Kerry came over and we looked at a house. She has decided she is definitely moving to the Cardiff area now. Hurrah! I knew I would eventually wear her down. The house was on an estate; it was big, but not very nice and very expensive. It would need a lot of money to bring it up to date but it did have loads of rooms. Thankfully, she didn’t like it so we came back and looked some more up on the internet which were more suitable. She’s coming back Wednesday to have a look.
November 21, Tuesday
Went to get my bloods checked at the hospital this morning and my white cell count was borderline. I missed an acupuncture session last week and I think this could have some bearing on it. I have to go back tomorrow to get my blood done again. They think it will be up by the morning and that the third chemo will be able to go ahead.
I so want to get the session over with, number three coming up, but I am beginning to dread having to go to the hospital. They are all really, really nice but I am getting a needle aversion for one thing, and I just don’t want to be there. Rhodri isn’t coming to chemo with me, he’s finishing early so he can look after the children.
November 22, Wednesday
I was dreading going to the hospital and don’t think I’ll come on my own again, although I’m meeting my student Rachel so I’m not on my own really. I’m beginning to wish I didn’t have the student and haven’t actually done anything with her yet, but she’s got to learn from someone and why not someone like me, who doesn’t stop talking. Am reading The Ten-Minute Life Coach, which has taken over from The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying. It’s fundamentally Buddhist in its ethos but a bit snappier, although I will return to Tibet when I get a minute. Anyway, it’s about talking yourself up and NEVER being disparaging about yourself, so I’m trying to hold this in my mind. Rachel is lucky to have me, I think.
I was driving reluctantly towards the hospital, and I looked up and there was an enormous rainbow over the entire place and I was reminded of Rhodri’s Auntie Sally’s card to me, which made me cry when I got it, as she has also been ill. She had written Behind every cloud there’s always sunshine and it gave me a big smile and a bit of a kick up the arse for being so miserable.
Had to wait in the hospital for three hours, which isn’t long in total, but last time it was only an hour. The good news was that my blood was up, so I had the chemo. Rachel is very nice and very young; I chatted away, filling silences with just about everything. Not sure I can keep that up for the next three sessions. I told her I thought cancer was life-affirming and I saw it as a positive thing, and she said she was surprised by that, which I was surprised about, then I realised she’s in her twenties so why would she think she was ever going to die? In fact, most people at forty don’t think they are going to die either, I guess.
I hate the drips, I hate the smell, I hate trying to be happy and bright when I just want to get out of there.
When I came home, Kerry was there with Daisy and she left her while she went to see a house, looking very liberated. Julia and Pip arrived at the same time and took it in turns holding baby Daisy so I had a full house.
Julia
had been to have a mammogram at BUPA and will get the results next week. I’m sure it will all be fine but we all do need to check. Chemo started to take effect late afternoon and I was very tired by the time Rhodri came back with the children at six. I couldn’t keep my eyes open and had to go to bed where I stayed all night.
November 23, Thursday
Ian P from work emailed me to ask how I was and as he did, I was sobbing at my computer. I am feeling really low today. I am convinced it’s the lack of acupuncture – I must have two sessions in between chemo, in future. I decided to ring the counsellor from the BBC helpline as I think I might need someone to help me along. Ten-Minute Life Coach says don’t be afraid to buy in help, so I thought the counsellor would be just what I need right now. Told Ian P I was a bit down in the dumps and he is coming over next Wednesday to take me to the sea and buy me chips – sounds just the thing. ‘Taking my devils for an airing’ as Dylan Thomas would say.
I am beginning to feel stir crazy at home, and the thought of going back to work is not as scary as it has been. I need structure and a bit of purpose, as long as it’s for only four days a week.
My Mummy Wears a Wig - Does Yours? A true and heart warming account of a journey through breast cancer Page 12
