Ten Tonne Tess

Well the weight continues to pile on - I've gained 10lbs since ending round 3 of chemo. Doctors, nurses, friends and family all seem delighted, I'm not so sure. I hate the feeling of my thights rubbing together or the sight of abs disappearing under a layer of fat.

But I will not diet. It has the word 'die' in it for god's sake. Instead I shall be more organically veggie, drag the dog for yet longer walks and generally live the life of a native of Portland (minus the hiking - even I have limits and they're drawn at walking that requires specialist equipment)

Managed to catch the UEFA Cup Semi final in which Middlesbrough set them selves up for Cup Final Heartache - by coming from behind to score the 4 goals they needed to make it to Eindhoven and the final. They will of course lose the final narrowly and tragically whilst fat men in replica shirts that they couldn't afford even before blowing the rent on travel weep - not at the fact that they've spent money that could have fed and housed their children on a childish folly; but at the fact that reflected glory was denied them.

There's something very wrong with a town that NEEDS its teams to be successful. Where all pride is caught up in their success. I think that's why there's less fervent support for clubs here in the US. Sure people are passionate about their teams but the teams don't represent their every once of hope. In the land of opportunity there's always hope - so when the Packers lose you go back to the project that will make you a billionaire. When Boro lose it's back to the single room you rent in somebody else's house, with only enough money to buy more temporary hope in the shape of a scratchcard (or a bet on the horses) in your pocket.

Anyway enough of this tragedy. I'm off to Bodies today (see how the body works by looking at skinned, diced and dissected real ones) and then for a quick drink (oh how I wish it was alcoholic) with a friend having a birthday celebration.

Hope it's a big room - these thighs need space

Rest Day

So I'm not going in to work today - the throat was sufficiently sore and the glands sufficiently swollen for me to think "screw it'

Of course sufficient is a moveable feast but in truth the commute and the atmosphere of dread panic is more than I can bear today - and we're seeing no work until tomorrow anyway.

My cat is acting as a poster kitten for the benefits of diet food - since we switched her she's been playful, inquisitive and noticeably less rotund. You'd think we'd plied her with 'kitty speed' given the way that she's bouncing about.

I love those diet pill TV ads here - 'not only will you lose weight, you'll gain energy" - well of course will Mrs Pudding, they're filling you with cheap speed.

Not a great deal happening in my world - wanting everything at Yokod.com - three great blazers in the new collection and cashmere T-Shirts. The store is just down the road, but oh the expense. The stuff is gorgeous though, I'll go and join the throngs looking longingly through the window at it at some point today.

And with that I'll disappear, breakfast does not buy itself and I need a French Stick to get me up of a morning these days.

Sick enough for sick leave?

Today I have a new mantra. It’s one that I will be repeating to myself and I fear to others over the coming weeks

“I will not let work get in the way of my recovery”

A subtle mix of workplace tension, looming deadlines and a body filled with steroids has made me the stroppiest of madams and it’s starting to have adverse implications for my health.

I need to stop worrying about what’s going on in the office and start worrying about getting well.

So that’s what I’m going to do.

Will talk to HR today about signing off for the 6 weeks of sick leave that I’m allowed to take before they slash my salary – after which I intend to come home, eat healthily, walk the dog and rest up with nothing but pictures of healthy cells in my head.

Best for all? Maybe. Best for me? Absolutely,

what the hell?

Spent last night in fear of the door being smashed in and my being taken away to a place where the uniforms are orange and the international laws on holding people without a trial lax.

Just as I started reading the Rolling Stone 'Worst President ini History?" article the sky filled with choppers, the air with the noise of sirens and the streets with emergency vehicles.

I can't see that anything major was happening outside but I have to say there were 5 minutes when I was wracking my brain for details of how I could have been the cause of so well orchestrated a manhunt.

Sadly I could think of nothing. It's never great to realize that you're not subversive or edgy or dangerous - but that you're a middle aged cancer patient livning a quiet life of domesticity.

But for the first time ever it wasn't a wrist slashing thought either.

Oh dear - I should go and buy 'dinner party music' now, shouldn't I?

At work

and at a loose end - so more blog stuff for you.

Had a blood test this morning, which was fine. I'm starting to get to know everyone at the hospital so preferential treatment is mine - 'come straight through'

Of course the rain this morning was bad enough to wash out the downtown subway and to ensure that every cab was filled with a smugly dry bastard - so I walked the 30 blocks to work, stopping to look at a bulldog puppy and getting into several 'brolly bashes' with fur coated harridans.

Feeling so much better today than last week - and sun forecast for the weekend. Hurrah.

So endeth this entry, short and pointless really... ne'er mind