Wig out.

I kinda like radiotherapy so far; it's been pretty cool. (Actually it's been pretty scorching, but up to now the sunburn it's given me is no worse than I managed on honeymoon, when I singed the right side of my face – with perfect precision, I might add – while my iPod distracted me from the factor 30.) And yeah, the side effects are going to build to the point where I'll probably come to regret

Wig out.

By: Unknown on: 05:02

The Incredibles.

So then, sex. (Thought that'd get your attention.) And, more specifically, the wig on/wig off question. Oh come on, don't be coy. Of course you've thought about it. I did nothing but think about it, once the wig-wearing reality had set in. Don't be fooled, here. It's not like P and I are having loads of sex at the moment. Cancer doesn't really allow much room/energy/desire for sex, and even

The Incredibles.

By: Unknown on: 05:34

You won't like me when I'm angry.

A couple of nights ago, P and I were on the way home from our friends' wedding, feeling suitably heartwarmed yet pretty knackered (ie, a definite wig-off moment) and P needed to nip out of the car for something or other (okay, a KFC). So we pulled up on a double yellow line, blocking a driveway (get us; proper badass criminals) and P jumped out for some late-night chicken. While he was in there,

You won't like me when I'm angry.

By: Unknown on: 14:32

To boldly go.

Something weird happened yesterday. Either I had my radiotherapy planning appointment or I was abducted by aliens. And no, for once I'm not talking about one of my trippy dreams. (Although, while we're onto trippy dreams, I had a corker the other night. All the cats in the neighbourhood were having a mini civil-war-style dispute and Sgt Pepper – being the highest-ranked in the local cat army –

To boldly go.

By: Unknown on: 14:19

I got my head checked.

Well, I've done it. I've crossed the line. Turned to the dark side. I am now a woman in therapy. Actually, they don't call it 'therapy' at my hospital. It's 'counselling'. But since I'm not fond of either of those words, I'm going to call it Brain Training instead. A bit like on the Nintendo DS, but they don't make you do maths, count syllables or draw kangaroos.

And what are you supposed to

I got my head checked.

By: Unknown on: 04:36

Fade out.

I've been thinking more about when it is that I'll finally have my Nicole Kidman moment. You know, the punching-the-air-in-relieved-celebration thing. Not that I'm comparing having breast cancer to being married to Tom Cruise, of course. The Bullshit must be a cake-walk compared to that. But at least she had the chance to celebrate a divorce.Whether or not it's really the conclusion, the goal I'm

Fade out.

By: Unknown on: 07:12

One step beyond.

I do like an excuse for a celebration, and here's a corker for you: CHEMO IS OVER. Feel free to break into applause. Actually, the celebrations only lasted as long as Friday evening, when P and I counted down the last milliletres of drugs running through my drip, said our emotional goodbyes to the nurses (after plying them with fairy cakes) and bid a final, fond fuck-off to the chemo room. When

One step beyond.

By: Unknown on: 09:19