So…going back and going forward a bit..let me wrap it up. My fourth visit to the hospital…and the doc is seriously trying to teach me why i have to have a chunk of boob removed. blue dye to stain my boob for months and scars i should be happy about.
i managed to wangle it so that they will wreck my armpit instead of my tiny boob. yeah, go me.
I managed to find someone on some cancer website the nhs recommends. someone like me. that’s what you do. you seek out other people in shock. similar shock.
soon i’ll track down the maggie centre where i think you go for the support. You need support. that’s why it’s there. because you need it. so – yeah…it’s so so so weird telling people. they don’t know what to say OR they tell you it’s probably going to be fine. OR they panic. great. so ….drum roll please. i decided to tell no one. and my god…it’s hard in this cell.
When i say hard. what I mean is, i’m 41 and ….nothing….put it all together has been as hard as this. and i’ve been in 10 years of abusive and violent relationships. I’ve watched a man try to kill my father…well no i heard him next door i didn’t actually watch.
i was left to suffer at the hands of my wreckless and loveless bitter alcoholic father for a year as my mum left me with him when she couldn’t stand him anymore.
i lived ok…but was vulnerable and tried to end it several times because life just got harder.
i’m strong now and although still a twat at picking men….i’m strong.
this. is hard.
ANyway. I’m now caught up with myself and going to start blogging the process.