Pills 'n' thrills and bellyaches.

Okay okay, I spoke too soon. I've hit the 'buggery bit' that my favourite nurse warned me about. What I'm not experiencing in puking, I'm making up for in pain – this type of chemo ain't half rough on your bones. But, useless as I am here on the sofa, the not-spewing stuff has made me about as happy as you can be when you're flat on your back (well, not quite that happy, but you get my point). And I'm even happier now I've been given the go-ahead to take some painkillers. The bone-aches were verging on the unbearable so, from the lack of a full-body plastercast to wear (can you believe Topshop don't sell them?), P called the hospital to see whether there was anything I could take to ease the pain. Now normally I knock back paracetamol like Smarties, but another drawback of The Bullshit is that I have to double-check before doing even the most seemingly harmless thing. Having a painkiller, taking vitamins, buying deodorant, using a new moisturiser, getting a manicure... So knowing that P is on his way back from the chemist armed with ibuprofen feels like a brilliantly guilty pleasure. I'm that excited, you'd think he'd gone out to buy speed.

In truth, though, this chemo has been about a 6% improvement on the last. There's no medical grounding in that estimation, by the way, I've just chosen to award it a few extra marks on account of me not feeling so sick. Don't get me wrong, it's still bloody horrible, but I remain really surprised at just how different this cycle has felt to the last three. The pain is one thing (if you've ever had shin splints or broken a bone, that's the closest I can get to describing it), but I'm purposely not awarding marks up to the 10% improvement level on the grounds of my sore throat, earache, sloppy footwork (apologies – I've been watching too much Strictly Come Dancing), pins and needles, iffy tummy, weird metallic taste and a very disconcerting green tongue that no amount of brushing can get shut of. Still, if the ibuprofen can dull a bit of the pain, that's one step closer to me (a) walking properly again and (b) doing it in heels. I've spent a frankly ridiculous amount on some fabulous shoes for J's wedding next week (next week!) and I'm damned if they're going to waste. Hm, dropping painkillers for fashion. There's an inventive excuse for taking drugs. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some experimenting to do.