I am, of course, cacking it now I've got the appointment. (And that, by the way, is as close to the World's Biggest Understatement as you're likely to get.) I just CANNOT HANDLE the not knowing. This might sound ridiculous to you, but surely even being told that I've got a huge spread of difficult-to-treat cancer cells must be better than this waiting? At least then I'd know what I'm up against and find a way of reasoning with it. Right now there's nothing to do but think (definitely not recommended), sleep (all afternoon), eat (one chocolate eclair after today's hospital visit, and a double portion of watercress and broccoli for dinner), blog (ta-dah) and shop. And boy can I shop. I've even learned a few things from my mammoth internet binge (cue list...).
1. Good old M&S sell mastectomy bras. And guess what? They're not all huge/patterned/embroidered/reminiscent of B&B bedspreads. Granted, I doubt they'll be putting me on a giant billboard underwear ad outside Macy's anytime soon, but my soon-to-be-delivered new purchases will be a distinct improvement on my current gym-top look. (And to think I got upset when my school nemesis took the piss out of my training bra in the sports hall changing room. That was positively Rigby & Peller compared to my current garb. I bet she's loving this.)
2. Much as I adore them (and I really really adore them), I just can't bring myself to buy French Connection's lovely, pale taupe 'Jolie' shoes. Damn them for naming a pair of gorgeous Mary Janes after The Oestrogen Villainess.
3. Dorothy Perkins currently has some truly awful dresses. But you can imagine how tempted I was to buy this T-shirt.
4. I've spent the last few weeks looking for one of those thin, beany-hat-style caps that babies have (see, I told you I was turning into George Dawes) so I can wear it in bed once my hair has fallen out. And, thank you Topshop, I've found one. It's not about keeping my head warm, though – this is purely for the purpose of protecting my husband. I managed the first year of our relationship without P hearing me fart or seeing me with no make-up (I've made up for it since, like) so I reckon that, thanks to the new hat, I can manage a few months of keeping him from seeing my bald head as well.
5. Rant alert. I am totally, utterly, tearing-my-hair-out SICK of seeing green-slogan T-shirts. 'Planet, Sweet Planet', 'Turn Over A New Leaf: Recycle', 'Don't Trash My Planet', 'Imagine A Leafy Future', 'Think About What You Throw Away'... How about 'Get Your Eco Lectures From The Guardian, Not My T-Shirt'? Honestly, shoppers, if you want to be more eco aware, brilliant! Just fucking well go and do it, eh? No need to broadcast it to the whole bloody world (says the girl blogging about her boobs).