handbags at dusk

Feeling just a tad shirty today. The reason? Work, mainly.

Spent the week dragging my cancer infested carcass across town, on public transport, to the asbestos filled building site that doubles as my office- all in a bid to help come up with some answers for an important upcoming meeting.

This regime saw me manage to catch a cold, start coughing again and generally exhaust myself - but we got to a good place. I wrote up all my thoughts, quite nicely I thought and then reminded people that I have chemo Friday and Monday – so I wouldn’t be working the weekend or available before the Tuesday am meeting. Tuesday am would be tough but I agreed to drag my recently poisoned self there, downing steroids and anti-nausea pills as I went.

Of course nobody heard the last bit. Today has been a barrage of ‘you have to come in’ calls. Of coercing, pleading and emotional blackmail.

‘Hey’, they said, ‘why not come in at 6pm and we can work late?’

‘Because’ said I ‘There’s a very real danger that my dragging myself in through a snow storm, to work late, the day before chemo, might just kill me.’

‘You’ll be fine. We need you here. You said you didn’t feel THAT sick. If this goes well you’ll be able to take some time off, it’ll all be agreed’

‘F*ck right off.’

‘5pm?’

I really do think that if I do end up in the 50% of people who are killed by this disease there will be a move from my account management team to have my headstone wired for broadband – just in case they need help with PowerPoint charts.