Waiting to see the oncologist, with The Man. I am with The Man, not the oncologist because that would be kind of weird. Not of course that this journey has suffered from lack of weird already. On that note, I bet that this oncologist won’t be as wonderful as Dr ISIS…nor as entertaining….

A buxom, peroxide blonde (read yellow) staff member has just walked past. You know those with the overly caring voice, who wear clothes that are just that bit too tight…who really make me worry that I may just have to punch if she comes near me. 

I am in take over the world mode this morning. With a bulldozer. And no hostages. Given my general demeanor over the past month or so, I could of course be a sniveling heap on the floor in 20 minutes. But I don’t think so. The toughness I said that I needed is there at the moment, and I welcome it. No, not going into battle at all, but just touching on the hardcore part of me which I feel I need today. Weird process on the way here of remembering some of the extraordinarily dark times quite vividly and how I tapped into that survival part in those times. I need this together with the vulnerability…maybe I just need to know it’s still there for me to tap into. 

I will leave with micro chipped boob and a treatment plan. The latter apparently isn’t actually a micro chip, although I prefer that idea (The Man currently saying that he will make the cat flap bigger to accommodate me and the micro chip activation of if) but is putting markers into the tumoirs. Ah – being called in now!