I've been editing my diary, the one I kept from the time of my initial consultation with the GP back in September 2009 and moving on from that, the blog. It's a project for the cancer professionals that I met at the first meeting of the cancer care partnership. They have expressed an interest in reading about my experience. Of course, that means delving back into those dark days of the three months before I knew what was wrong with me. They were very dark and although I kept my chin up, I now recall how utterly miserable I really was underneath the cheery facade.
While I'm engaged in this task I'm finding that my mind is quite troubled at night if I wake. I seem to sleep in small doses, waking often and having the most bizarre of dreams. I don't expect this to last long - probably for as long as I'm editing my memoirs. Unfortunately - or maybe fortunately - I can't recall any of the dreams now, but they're very vivid when they occur.
However they are not as wierd and wonderful as this, which was not dreamed by me but dreamed about me last night. The dreamer has told me that I tried to enrole her in a strange women’s health club where the ladies were wrapped in cling film and covered in uncooked pork pie meat (very specific). This was a very hush-hush experiment with amazing outcomes in terms of health and beauty, so I told her. Then I gave her a lift home in my car in which the whole of the dashboard was covered in hair where I had stored my fringe trimmings over the years. I was very proud of the fact that the cat’s hair was also stored on the back window shelf - for car insulation apparently.
Make of that what you will - and for heaven's sake don't dream about it!