Wednesday, 2 December 2015

Celebrating 9 Months Sober

So, how to celebrate nine months totally alcohol free? Three quarters of a year!

I had been invited to a ladies lunch in Edinburgh. I usually avoid the whole 'ladies who lunch' scene, but this one was being attended by Princess Anne, who I've always had a bit of a girlie crush on. She's so wonderfully down to earth and horsey, despite the whole 'Mummy's the Queen' thing.

However, as regular readers will be aware, recent events conspired against me, and instead of dining with royalty I had my first session of radiotherapy.

I'm back to counting days. I have fifteen sessions over three weeks. Five days on, two days off.

Radiotherapy, it transpires, is a walk in the park compared to chemotherapy.

(I feel almost guilty about not doing the chemo thing. I can't meet the eyes of the ladies in the wigs and headscarves in the waiting room. I imagine they're thinking "look at the imposter over there, with the whole cancer-lite thing going on. Hah! Call that a treatment programme!?! Wimp!")

When it's your turn, you're ushered into a room which is dominated by this narrow bed fitted with arm restraints. It's like something out of Fifty Shades of Grey. Then two radiotherapists spend an age getting you into exactly the right position.

Meanwhile, you're topless, with both arms over your head, feeling like a spatchcocked chicken.

In order to line you up perfectly, they give you two permanent tattoos - one on either side of your boob. I was quite excited about this. I've always secretly wanted a tattoo.

"Can I choose the style and colour?" I asked. I was thinking dolphins.

"No. You get a blue dot, like everyone else," they replied, missing a fabulous opportunity to up-sell.

"Any more questions?"

Mr SM had asked me to see if they had any advice on how to fix our broken microwave. I was not convinced, however, that this would go down well.

Finally, when you're perfectly in position, they scurry out of the room and hide behind very thick glass so as not to get anywhere near the horribly dangerous rays which are firing at you from close range.

So, I celebrated nine months with a massive blast of radiation to the bottom left quadrant of the left boob. Not the way I would have planned it, but - on the upside - my final session is scheduled for 22nd December......

.......just in time for Christmas!

I'm not sending hugs this evening. Unless you're wearing lead clothing it'd be far too dangerous.

SM x


  1. You are such a hoot! How wonderful to read such an entertaining account. I had an emergency appendicectomy in Kuala Lumpur on the way home from holiday three years ago and there were several occasions where I thought i was going to have a panic attack and had to concentrate really closely to just keep going. I had the most amazing surgeon and medical team - even today, I feel blessed. Good medical care is a gift - but shouldn't be - it should be the norm.

  2. Bring on the 22nd December! I am so glad it's nearly over SM. You have been through so much. You deserve a very special Christmas after all that! Congrats on 9 months! That is truly awesome. You rock! A x

  3. I love mr SM.
    Congrats on 9 months. Keep at it!

  4. Ha ha ha! That so made me laugh. Its just like that. I used to imagine i was in a star wars film as my table moved around on the machine. Oh and i've got 3 dots not 2. Huge congratulations on 9 months!

    1. You must have bigger boobs than me Sharon ;-)

  5. 9 months is such an accomplishment! I've been reading your blog in order and it's taken me two days just to get through March and April but it's like one of those books you can't put down, or if you do, you can't wait to get back to it. I love yours and Mr SM's sense of humour. It mirrors mine and my husbands :) Sending huge un-radiated hugs to you x

  6. Hope it is all going as well as can be expected x

  7. Dolphins? You make me laugh! 9 months is amazing - well done and thanks for inspiring me. Annie x

  8. 9 months, you have given birth to a new you! In hospital, having your bits and bobs poked and prodded, a few follow up appointments and the new life begins. I would still hug you darling SM. Pity on missing out on the Anne lunch though.

  9. I'm sending a hug anyway! (so brave from 7000 miles), and delighted that this will be over for you by the 22nd. And huge congrats on nine months.(And sorry about the Anne thingy) xxx

  10. Congrats on nine months! That's so awesome!

    Sorry about the radiation. I didn't have radiation, but my girlfriends told me that it's tiring, so rest and take care of yourself. And DO NOT feel guilty about not having chemotherapy! That stuff sucked balls, and all you should be doing is considering yourself lucky!! ((hugs))

  11. Thank you for the laughs. I don't know how you do it. But I have to admit, I think of you when my cravings are the strongest. You are my inspiration.
    Congrats on 9 months.

  12. Hell yes! Huge congrats on your .75 of a year! OMG you are killing me with your awesome "cancer humor", I can't believe the med pros don't find you hilarious (their loss!) I don't know if the radiation is a walk in the park, but however difficult or easy it is, I still think you have "street cred". :) Happy it's going to be over soon for you, love your attitude!

    1. You'll be interested to know, Betty, that all the hospital appliances are reassuringly white. Not red. X

  13. Massive congrats on 9 months! That's a new baby you know! You have to get a tatt now though, sober in sanskrit or something classy like that...

  14. Happy 9 months!
    You are such a positive role model for me!