[written on waking, 1.19am] Clearly, on some level, I'm deliriously happy ~ the negative scan results ~ & I'm acclimatised now to the prospect of reconstruction (you wake up, you're somewhat battered & bruised, but you still have two breasts, no wonder people take that option).
Apart from a bit of wooziness in town yesterday, and a few aches, I have felt perfectly ok for a couple of days. Starting to feel like I'm bunking off for no clear reason other than the desire to be creative and look after myself. Oh, the sky is going to fall in if MP gets a diagnosis today. I'll need the therapy to deal with her news, not mine. Which makes my toes curl wondering how my being ill made her feel, and so we go on, in ever-decreasing circles.
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