i have to think, its not about me.

So today was my first day in cancer clinic.

Like my patients, I expected someone to be there, guide me through it and make sure I did everything just right.

Instead I was on my own, expected to break the news,"it's likely to be cancer". I don't know if anyone heard anything else after that as I try to tell them of what comes next, the urgent biopsies, blood tests and scans.

I can't tell them anything else; not because I don't know, but because no one really knows. I've seen what chemo can do and radiotherapy can buy time and ease the pain- but I'm so sorry, I don't know. Im too new, too green, lacking the knowledge to be able to tell you how much time you have.

Im sorry that today is my first day, I apologised if I was as horrified by your diagnosis as you are. I'm sorry I mumbled and stumbled and maybe did it the wrong way; no one really tells you how to do it, they just sit you down and expect you to be able to do this.

Just so you know, I'm sad too. And so very sorry you had to have me.

Overwhelmed

I can't do this.
Live, be me, be happy and then be wonderful, strong and organised for someone else.

I am ugly, inside and out.
I am messy, I am lazy.

Indecisive to the point of endangerment.

I am not designed for modern living.

I don't want to have to carry you too. You've become my responsibility and what was initially a joy is starting to weigh heavy.

1st Syawal

It's Eid- a happy time for most, celebrating the end of the holy month. 

Time meant to be spent with family, eating good food, feeling loved. 

Im in bed, alone, wanting to die; just a little bit. 

The initial haze of melancholy has turned into a heavy smog. Even Max can't make this better. In fact, i think he is making it worse. 

I'm starting to resent the fact I cannot talk to him about being irrationally sad. 

He can't ever understand insecurity, crippling self doubt, hating oneself so much that the only release is to hurt myself physically and mentally.

My sick obsession with his ex-lovers is a mental self-flagellation; something a sane person can't understand. 

My parents didn't answer the phone when I called this morning. 

All I got was a cursory text. 

That really hurt. Hurt more than i thought it would. 

Do they care anymore or have I finally got what I asked for when I was a petulant teenager, that they would just leave me well alone?

Does anyone know what to do with a sad dog?

I am dog-sitting Max's dog while trying to come up with a short but interesting presentation about neurally adjusted ventilatory assistance in his mom's house.

Harry (the dog) is despondent- his pack leader (Max's mom) has gone on holiday last night leaving Max and myself in charge of the house and the dog. He's not gone potty this morning on his walk and he was sitting in his bed all morning, I had to lure him downstairs with treats.

Im trying to play with him but he doesn't want to chase any of the variety of toys i throw around the house. He barks and jumps trying to get it out of my hands- in truth I'm still a little scared of him, not sure if that was a play bark or a 'I'm gonna bite you' bark.

He's been great with me so far but it's always with Max around.

Gah, this is why I'm a cat person.

Tomorrow I have to walk Harry by myself! and the presentation is meant to be ready!

Important interview on Monday! Oh help me God.....

Dear all

Here is the fall.

Well, it's a 8 months after the injury.

9 days after my operation. Every step still hurts, I still have a limp.

I've broken the 100 kg mark.

My skin is blotchy

My boyfriend is tired of me

His ex-fiancee is skinny, blonde and looks fucking gorgeous. I stalk her Facebook and Instagram but ignore her Youtube account (she hasn't posted anything on that since 2011). Her bio is #imawesome

I found his old memory card lying around- I went through his photos, even had a little teary self hate inducing slide show of the woman's photo's- heck, she's got no pores. Even on the ultra high definition TV.  For that, yeah maybe she's awesome.

This is my first cigarette in 18 months. I had to light it off the stove. And i'm forced to have the extractor fan on to get the smell out of the house.

Safe to say, I'm feeling very sorry for myself at the moment. Fuck it, I hate everything about myself.

I'm now not only fat and ugly but lame, fat and ugly.

One more cigarette and another cry, then I'll tidy the house. That might be a good reason for him to keep me around.

Earlier today

We're in bed at 10 am on a Saturday, planning our holiday to the States.

"So, I've booked this amazing hotel- Nancy and Ronald Reagan stayed there for their honeymoon and Pat and Richard Nixon was married there. It even has it's own Wikipedia page"

"So it's a romantic hotel, huh? I wonder if it's a good place to propose...?"

I didn't dare look at him. I just told him not to do anything silly.

I ask him about how he proposed to his ex-fiance- he refuses to tell me. It's not the first time I've asked either. I've added his close friends on Facebook, maybe I'll ask one of them- I can't seem to decide which one is the least likely to report back to him.

I've played scenarios in my mind- it was probably on the balcony of a fancy restaurant, surrounded by bouquets of flowers and a violinist. With that lovely vintage ring he was sure she would love. Im sure I have a photo of her wearing the ring screenshot off Facebook. He probably went on one knee; there was probably tears and lots of kissing. Straightaway calling her mum and sister.

It's scaring me less, all our talk of the future. We are talking about moving in together- how many bedrooms we'd like, who's toaster we are going to throw out and how he will need to do the dishes more often or it's going to drive me crazy. I think it's all good fun talking about the future- a wonderful place in time where our lives are perfectly intertwined, where we're happy, smiley, surrounded by little 'uns.

Reality is a little harder- I still have no faith in my ability as a doctor and don't know where or what I'm going to do. I still want to do the 'travelling' experience. He's in a good job with great prospects but he needs to stay in a specific geographical area (where medical jobs might be difficult to get).
I've thought about 'us' seriously enough that I'm planning to go away at the end of this year for about 3-4 months. My reasons are a little more complex than it's on my bucket list- I feel like I might settle down with this one; a training post and babies wouldn't fit with travelling.

It's all been put into some perspective by my ex-lover emailing me with an update of his life- a little snapshot of how he's doing so far. It doesn't hurt anymore, but it was a hard lesson to learn. Looking back what I have with Max now was what I was looking for. Maybe it's vengeful, but in my reply I didn't give any hint to how I am or what Im up to. That would be too kind.

A year

It's been a year- Max and I made it past the 12 month mark. 

Im grateful- it's been a challenging year, lots of reasons to be miserable but also many reasons to be glad. 

One step at a time, I'll see where it goes.