The Build Up

You can’t imagine how it’s going to feel, but you’re pretty sure it’s awful. After all, you own a TV and you’ve seen grainy pictures of bald women in close up on the front page of tabloid newspapers at the garage. Everybody you know is related to/knows/met/heard about someone who had a terrible time of it. Their hair never came back the same - “it’s curly and

Young Again

This week I’ve been returning to thoughts about my age, I’m 36 this year and very happy about this fact. After all, the alternative isn’t much fun. I’ve just dyed my hair a coppery orange colour, which I realised (after I’d done it) looks very similar to the colour that my younger sister dyed her hair, when she was 20. Am I too old for this? I wonder. I begin to worry that my drug induced menopause is sending me through a sort of perpetual mid-life crisis, but my family are keen to point out that I’ve always been a bit bonkers, which is of course meant to reassure me.

Frustrations

I feel as though I’m pretty qualified to write on this at the moment, as my arm is giving me a bit of jip again. Anyway, enough moaning about things which are right now. Why does this post come straight after the last? Because I learnt an important lesson pretty quickly after my first operation, which was that this is a long game, not a quick fix, and whilst it is important to keep pushing forward; sometimes you have to accept that things are out of your control and they will take as long as they do. 

I do still push, and then accept how things need to be after, I figure it’s better that way, as it means you don’t have the regret of not having tried. I mean, the flare up of my arm, might just be because of the gym last week (where I was not lifting very heavy things, because I promised the hospital I wouldn’t - well done me).