Oh so silent blog

I know I have sent a couple of alarm bells ringing with my lack of blog posts the past few days. So am just updating to say I am still here.

There are some things that when I just don't want to blog about. Too hideous. Too private. Suffice to say I am getting lots of good care and things are slowly improving. Ironically it is the side effects of a tablet to reduce the side effects of the chemo that have caused so much drama.

People are being very kind. Jonny is well fed, which is such a blessing. To not to even have to think what he may have for dinner each night. If only I could join in the eatng more. The food looks good just no tum for it. Very basic diet for me right now.

I have offers of people to come and sit with me. They keep saying they don't mind how I am. The trouble is that I mind. It bothers me.

I know I need to get over myself but it is a step at a time. This is happening to me. And it is for me to know what is right and helpful and what isn't.

Sleep Please

I am getting so fed up with my sleep problems. And getting fed up with them probably doesn't help.

I don't think I helped myself yesterday. I had an unscheduled trip to the hospital in the morning to try and sort my anaemia problems out. And then a GP appointment mid afternoon. This meant I didn't get my afternoon rest until 5 ish. I fell promptly fast asleep until gone 7. And this probably didn't help me try to get off for a good nights sleep a couple of hours later.

But this problem has been going on far longer than one night.

For those who have never encountered insomnia I can only imagine it sounds ridiculous. If you are tired, surely the body will just go to sleep for some rest. But that is the whole point. With insomnia the switching into sleep mode just doesn't happen. This leads to over tiredness in the night which makes the problem even worse.

I have some reflexology booked for later on today. That seemed to help massively last week so here's hoping it does the trick for me again tonight. That and a soak in some lovely bath oil my friend dropped round yesterday.

Not only am I totally fed up with my sleep problems. I am also thoroughly bored with going on about them.

The GP I saw yesterday described my whole situation as a "bugger." I was rather taken a back. But couldn't help finding myself agreeing with him. Quite frankly it is.

Women's Breakfast

I love the women's breakfast at church. It is usually just once a term, and a time for women to get together, chat, laugh, share and usually we have a speaker.

I went along this morning. My digestive problems have been so hideously bad recently, coupled with my insomnia, that yesterday I didn't think I was going to make it. This would have been a blow having not gone to the Love Maggies afternoon yesterday, which I really wanted to go to, and having to rearrange my course assessment that was meant to be today too. I was feeling like I was going to be bound to the sofa for the rest of my days.

Anyway thanks to advice from my hospice nurse (who is AMAZING and so much help) I managed some sleep last night and this morning was feeling better so did make it.

I guess there are about fifty or so women who usually go along, and the rough age range is from those in their early twenties through to early sixties. I love the fact that no labels apply though. By that I mean it doesn't about your age, career, family circumstances, illness or whatever. It's just a bunch of lovely ladies who get together, have a chit chat over some croissant and fresh coffee and share their lives with each other for a couple of hours on a Saturday morning.

This morning an amazing lady talked about how her faith had helped her to cope with her partial facial paralysis which suddenly hit her 18 months ago. And then a wonderful hilarious guest speaker used the analogy of clothes to talk about how we try to fit and clothe ourselves in what doesn't always fit - and how our faith challenges and frees us from that. I laughed a lot and caught up with friends. A very different place from the sobbing mess I was in yesterday evening.

Now home armed with a strategy to try and sort out my digestion. I am still on full anti sickness medications nine days post chemo. This is not great. I tried stopping them yesterday and it was something of a disaster. I am treating myself like a child. I have made myself a sandwich. Cut it into quarters and will be eating ONE quarter PER hour this afternoon and no more. That is how bad things have become that I am having to ration myself small portions of food so I don't get some hideous reaction.

In the dark moments of yesterday evening it occurred to me that it really isn't any wonder I feel so ill. I haven't been able to digest a proper meal in over a week. Even though I am exhausted I can't sleep because of my insomnia. I am in all likelihood very anaemic right now. And my white cell count will be at the lowest in the cycle meaning I have very little immunity. So I decided to give myself a break. Put all that together, along with the bloomin nasties in my body, and it is no surprise I have been feeling so shocking.

It's no fun. So I am very grateful those lovely girls had me smiling and laughing this morning. Now time for some TV in bed. I am just going to be very kind to myself right now because that is what I need.

Snug as a Bug

I have had a very restless night. There have been digestive problems that don't need any more said about them. But also a general restlessness which tends to kick in around this time in my chemo cycle.

It is VERY frustrating. My body clearly needs sleep. It has just undergone a chemical onslaught (again.) And my cell counts will be hitting their low so really what I didn't need was to spend last night in between the bathroom and tossing and turning all night in bed.

Some very good friends of ours renamed their spare room the "snug as a bug" room. And after a couple of hours of this frustration last night, this is where I relocated myself too. My Jonny was none the wiser, fast asleep (snoring,) and no point us both suffering this. Besides which makes me feel even worse about the whole thing if he is even more tired than usual for his stupid o'clock early starts.

Our "snug as a bug" room got redecorated a few months ago. We sometimes think of it as the unnecessary part of the house. Up in the loft conversion and only really used when people come to stay and for storage. However in recent months there have been various illness reasons (understatement?!) which mean being banished to the "snug as a bug" room have been necessary.

It's all in the name you see. Call it the spare room and you feel like a spare part. Call it "snug as a bug," and it feels almost like a treat. Today I am off to spend time in my friends "snug as a bug" room just for a change of scene. I am not going there to be spare or invalid you see, but to be snug.

Back for more

Yesterday I was back for my ten hour stint of infusions in the chemo ward. Joy upon joy. Usual drill of my seat in the corner. Usual faff of entering my veins and port. Usual doesn't mean I am ok with it. It is still a horrid thing to go through. That's the kind of thing people like to comfort themselves with. That I am used to it all by now. Yeah right. For the record you don't "get used to cancer." You just get on with it the best you can because you have no choice.

People often ask me what I do the pass the time. Which is one of those questions that people who have never been through this would obviously ask. But this isn't like just sitting there nursing a broken leg or something. I feel progressively more ill the more chemicals enter my bloodstream, so reading a book or whatever, really isn't what I feel I can do. I knit a little. I sleep a bit. I flick at a few pictures in magazines. I took my new laptop with me yestaday so wrote a little in the morning when I could.

Jonny has been in the far east all week with work, although thankfully landed very early this morning. So my Mum stayed over with me last night. Within half an hour of being home there was a ring at the doorbell and a delivery of a hot homemade casserole and freshly baked scones. How grateful we are for accepting support and help.

Some parts of my experiences are private and complex. But there have been various changes to my medications and because I have had such rough time, a considerable increase in the list and type. Ann the (hospice) nurse came today to help me with all of that side of things and I am feeling more in control.

Maybe. Just maybe this time won't be so bad. I smile. It is nearly 4pm and I am still in my PJ's. I've only just realised with my chemo brain. Hmm. Maybe things won't be that good either. But any improvement I will take. Just don't mention n.a.u.s.e.a.

Reflexology

Having spent the day feeling rather rubbish due to the adverse reaction to the sleep aid (or rather aid to NO sleep in my case) I am feeling much better. I have just had some reflexology locally. I loved it.

I have written before about my lovely friend who has given me lots of reflexology over the past few years. She has a 3 month old little boy now so finding time to massage my feet is not easy. Although we may find a way yet.

I have no idea why reflexology works. All I can say is I felt like a different person after an hour of foot treatment this evening. My headache had cleared. I felt more balanced. And like I had experienced some really deep relaxation. I have already booked to go again in a couple of weeks time after my next chemotherapy. It's all about finding the things that help right now. And, in my case, reflexology is certainly one of them.

Visit to the Maggies Centre - Charing Cross

Before heading off to the hospital this afternoon, I decided to pop into the Maggies Centre at Charing Cross. Having heard such good things at the Anna Valentine Fashion Show, and about these places generally, I was curious. I was also VERY nervous. In fact, today I was more nervous about walking in there on my own than I was about looking my oncologist in the eye later in the day.

Maggies Centres are support centres for anyone affected by any type of cancer at any time. So why was I so scared about stepping into a place like this? I have blogged before about how I have found it hard to fit in at other cancer support places I have tried. Partly my young age can go against me. I have felt very isolated and different from other visitors and like everyone just feels more sorry for me than anyone else to be dealt these cards at my time of life. Well yes it is total rubbish. That is a given. But if I go somewhere like this I am looking for support not sympathy. They are very different things.

I guess also the course this cancer has taken can make it hard for me. I visited a Breast Cancer support centre for some individual therapies (massage and the like) during the treatment for my primary cancer five years ago. When I went back a couple of summers ago after my cancer had returned, it just wasn't a place for people like me. It was good support for those going through treatment the first time - but the staff seemed a little lost as to what to do with someone like me. Surprising really. Given that there will be 46,000 women diagnosed with breast cancer in the UK this year. And for approximately a third of those, sadly their cancer will return at some point in the future. Regardless of prognosis or treatment. Harsh facts about a very harsh disease.

But back to cancer support centres. Another challenge for someone who is dealing with long term treatment, like me, is that often these places have a limit on the support they can offer. Given the number of cancer patients and the limited funds, this is completely understandable. But for someones like me, a couple of months is not really enough.

And partly it is just me. I often feel like this disease takes over enough. I just want to be free of it. I don't want to be spending my days trying to fit into a world I so don't want to be a part of.

So why then go to Maggies at all today? Like I say I was curious. I have heard good things. Janet Ellis gave a very convincing speech at the fashion show about why she believed Maggies Centres were so helpful. Even for those who have the love and support of family and friends. A safe place. Where no judgements were made, and you could access help. Help to facilitate living your life, not limiting it. And five years into living with cancer (albeit for a couple of years back there we all hoped it had gone) I know I am needing help. I am getting better at letting people help me. And I am not against finding a place that does support me, I just haven't yet.

So with a dry mouth and pounding heart I walk into Maggies at Charing Cross Hospital. There is busyness. I walk around a little bit and pretend to look at a few leaflets hoping someone will rescue me soon or I will be walking straight out again, even if I am taken with how beautiful the building is. I don't have to wait long. Someone comes over and asks me if I am new. She shows me the kitchen and makes me a cup of tea, and shows me where things are. We then move to the library area where she says she will tell me a bit about Maggies.

This is my cue to say why I am there. With tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat I give her a summary of where I am with cancer, treatment, life. She doesn't look at all shocked. She just looks and listens and seems to empathise. I feel this isn't the first time she has heard stories like this. I come straight out with it about why I find cancer support places hard. She listens and agrees. She then starts to tell me about a couple of the support groups that are relevant to me - it turns out I am not a freak of nature after all - and relaxation sessions and individual therapies. Maggies offer long term support so I can go as much or as little as I like for as long as I like. I can dip into stuff and out of stuff. She also booked me in for some reflexology after my next chemo.

She shows me around. There are lovely places to just sit, and relax, or read, or be quiet. I quite like the idea of getting a cup of tea there occasionally and just hanging out.

I have to get on to the hospital so having been there for about an hour - most of which I spent talking to Mary - I leave. And I leave happier than when I went in. On first impressions I like this place. And I feel I will go back. How much I don't know at this stage. I have a lovely little private on line support group so will have to see if I go along to that side of things. But I feel positive about it. And this is a pleasant surprise.

I was in a better mood for facing the hospital after that. More drugs coming my way to deal with side effects. But the good news is we are just pressing on with chemo for now and I won't be having to go through the ordeal of a scan right now, which is a massive relief.

Got home to my lovely friend dropping round cashew chicken and rice for my tea.

Usually my Mondays that involve hospital are just no fun. But today was not so bad after all. I even managed to smile in my consultation. Now that doesn't happen very often these days. Believe me.

Trevor Sorbie Charity - My New Hair

I still have my hair. And I am really pleased and relieved. Right now it is one less thing to have to deal with. There is no guarantee it will stay the course of this round of treatment. And sadly at some point in the future it may actually go.

Despite some pretty aggressive chemotherapy treatments I am still yet to be bald. And for this I am so grateful. I have endured the extreme discomfort of several cold caps. Not right now, but I have previously experienced the sadness and pain of clumps of the stuff coming out in the shower and it being pretty thin. People always said they couldn't notice. I always half took this as an insult. Blatantly my hair looked pretty dry, thin and awful. And I liked to think it wouldn't normally look like that. But I know they were just trying to be kind. The other classic line is "you know it doesn't bother us if you loose your hair." To which I have responded: "Don't you get it? This isn't about you. It bothers ME!"

Since the Anna Valentine fashion show I have exchanged a few emails with Janet Ellis. She is so lovely. She was trying to get in touch with Trevor Sorbie himself to cut my wig for me, should it be needed. She has just got back in touch with me. Trevor Sorbie has just set up a charity called "My New Hair." It is a dedicated wig cutting service for cancer patients.

I think this is just totally fantastic. One of the most important things to make a wig look realistic is the cut, and that it is cut for you. I cannot tell you the stress I have considered of having to go into a local hairdressers where they are not used to having to deal with this stuff. To have to explain what is going on. To get that pitiful look. And then quite possibly be turned away because the hairdressers are not trained in this area.

The link the website is below. It looks like they are fairly new. But I for one will be visiting the salon in Percy Street as soon as it is needed.

I guess to an outsider it could possibly seem as though relative to everything else cancer patients go through - and the severity - then loosing your hair is not that bigger deal. From my point of view it is like another twist of an already very painful knife. Prisoners have their heads shaved. It is yet another thing that is personal and part of who you are, that is taken away from you. A bad hair day times a million. And such an outward sign that you carry the label of cancer. And a bad wig is a little consolation.

I think it is truly wonderful that Trevor Sorbie has recognised this as such an important area to helping someone who has cancer to be able to LIVE. To step outside the front door and not feel like you have a big "C" on your head. But rather an individual who is as entitled to a decent haircut as anyone else. I for one will be making a donation to support his charity.

http://www.mynewhair.org/Home.aspx

Celebratory Lunch

I had a celebratory lunch today. I was celebrating the fact I didn't have any sickness or nausea for the third day running. And also my lovely friends birthday.

My friend is so lovely that on her birthday last week she sent me a new top in the post. I only managed to send her a card, thinking I was seeing her today so I would pass on my gift to her then. I felt rather bad about the fact that I was the one with the gift last week.

We have been friends for about 5 years now. In fact, the circumstances of my initial diagnosis led to us becoming good friends. I didn't know her that well then, more a friend of friends. She had just qualified as a reflexologist having left a very successful career as a solicitor. Law just wasn't for her. And in her thirties she found herself able to retrain. So when she heard I wasn't well she offered to give me some reflexology to help get me through my first, and back then we thought it would be my only, course of chemotherapy. I didn't even know what reflexology was. But she gave me the wonderful gift of visiting me at home a couple of times a week, giving me treatments, and chatting and encouraging me.

Since then we have remained good friends. I have had lots more reflexology since then from her. I have no idea why rubbing certain points on your feet can have the impact that it does. I believe we are fearfully and wonderfully made and all I can say is I have left with migraines cleared, slept better, and also found it particularly helpful at alleviating the side effects of various hormone treatments I been prescribed.

But more than that we have shared our laughter and tears. Ups and downs of each others lives. And although I would never of chosen the circumstances of us becoming friends, I am really grateful to have her in my life.

She has just had a little boy so it is limited how much reflexology I can have from her right now. But she was offering me to turn up to her home in my PJ's and use out in her spare room, her bath, anything really and be in chemo land in her beautiful home and she would look after me any time. I will have to see whether I take her up on it but I promised I would think about it.

Life may have dealt me some really tough cards but I know I do have some really lovely friends. I know I didn't need to get cancer to tell me that, but to feel the strength of their support is something really quite wonderful.

Blue Badge

If you want the cancer you can take my parking space too.


Nuff said.

Belonging

One of my experiences of the past few days has been letting local hospice care help me at home. This has been hard. Emotionally. It's that word. Hospice. Is that where I am? Is that what I need? How can this be?

It turns out that this is Ann's job though. To visit people like me who are dealing with side effects and symptoms at home. And she was really helpful. She just got it on many levels.

I had been putting a lot on myself about how badly I have been coping recently. Whilst the reasons were not what I wanted to hear, to have someone who knows there stuff tell you it is not you, it is your body and everything you are going through, gave me some acceptance that it is not just me. I'm really sick. And that isn't my fault. So we are pleased and so grateful for this help. Even if it is a hard one to accept.

She left some leaflets on the coffee table. Some of which were hard to read even the title of. She also mentioned the day hospice. I am sure for some who are isolated and alone these are a real life line. But for me, right now, I'm not sure. You see I have tried various cancer support places before and it turns out I don't really fit in there either. Why not? Well one reason is my age. Believe it or not I can find myself in a situation were the staff and other visitors all treat me like some sort of "weird special case" because I have this dreadful disease at such a young age. So I end up feeling like I don't fit in the one place where in theory I should. But I don't think it is just my age. I know of others in my situation who that kind of thing is not for them. That's not to say that this support is wonderful for many. And maybe I will change. But right now - it is not a place I feel I belong.

For me this disease takes over enough. And I long to be free of it. And when I feel well enough (which is not that frequently right now) I want to see those friends and family I trust. Who I know just see Jo and not the cancer.

I believe most of us yearn to belong, wherever we are in life. For me, heartbreakingly, doors have been closed. But that is not to say I don't belong anywhere. There are special people and places and moments where I totally do. Not defined by illness or labels or what I look like or whatever. A level beyond any of those temporary things that seek to destroy my human spirit.

Where I do belong.

Difficult Lessons - Accepting Help

In life I am naturally happier being the one who is rushing around after other people. What I am not very good at is being on the receiving end of help. I don't say this as a martyr - I just find it hard to let other people do things for me. Since I went to university when I was 18 years old, I have pretty well looked after myself. And for a long time my Jonny too. So, maybe I am just used to being that way.

This leaves me in a tricky situation right now. Because I am not well. And no matter how much I want to be keeping everything together and do everything, my body just isn't up to it at the moment. My achievements of Monday morning, in between two sleeps, were to empty the dishwasher and hang the clothes up to dry. These things are not big tasks. When I am feeling well - they just happen. And on bad chemo days it is more of an achievement to walk up the stairs than anything else.

I really DON'T want to be like this. That may sound obvious but it is so frustrating to not even able to think about what we are going to have for dinner. Let alone struggle to cope with symptoms and side effects of drugs.

I have, however, been offered help. By both the hospital and the community. I took some talking into accepting this, but I guess I am in a place where I know I need help. And so I knew when it was offered it was something I should take. Stubbornness can lead to cutting off your nose to spite your face. And my desire is always to make this bad situation better, not worse.

So. I have my next chemo tomorrow and for the next eight days starting tomorrow, my church will be delivering evening meals to our home. For the first few days these will just be for Jon as my stomach has been so bad. Believe me this wasn't something I accepted just like that. But in reality it is going to be a huge help. I have done this for others in the church when they have not been well, or had babies etc. It's just hard to accept such kindness from the other side.

The second piece of help I have accepted is nursing care at home to help me to cope with the side effects and symptoms. Whilst this is a good thing, again I took some persuasion. How ill do you have to be before this is deemed necessary? I certainly don't want to be ill enough. But maybe I am. Otherwise this wouldn't be offered to me. I found it particularly hard that these nurses are coming from the local hospice. Emotionally hard. I am sure they will be lovely. Just so don't want to be in the place I am.

So the next few days should be better than last time as I accept this help. Just because a lesson is difficult that doesn't mean it is not worth learning or when you do it won't make life better or easier. And I can see the bigger picture here. Someone (who happens to be me) is not well. And there are things than can be done to help. That someone is letting help in.

We just seem to have got to this place mighty quickly. So I've had a steep learning curve. But this is where I am. Even though I don't want to be. I just am. And I am incredibly grateful for the help I receive.

Rubbish Day

We all have bad days from time to time. I had one today. I don't want any sympathy. I have enough of that. This is my blog and am just writing down that I have had a rubbish day.

I knew I was going to be in a funny mood. It is five years today since my surgeon delivered the news to me that I had breast cancer in the Royal Marsden in Sutton. I was just 27 years old at the time. And I felt like my whole world had shattered into pieces. Today I enter the statistics as someone who has "survived" breast cancer for five years. This is not what survival was meant to look like.

I don't feel very well at all at the moment. At all. I spent a good few hours at the hospital this afternoon having various blood tests, injections and my consultation. You can loose hours and hours in that hospital. I am very grateful for the care I receive. It's just hard to sit there for hours when you feel so rubbish anyway. Then I had to wait 45 minutes for a prescription that they didn't have and ended up like some sort of lost soul in Boots at Fulham Broadway trying to buy Gaviscon.

I collapsed when I got home. Fell asleep. Again. But then things got better when my lovely friend brought our tea round for us. And now Jonny is home. More chemo on Thursday. I so know I need it. It's not nice feeling ill like this. Or having rubbish days.

Little things become Big things

So I have done some nice things this week. Not big things. But nice little things. Cups of tea and chats with friends mainly.

I'm finding doing this really tiring though. Not to the extent that I want to stop doing it. But meet a friend for a couple of hours and I am firmly in need of a nap to get me through the next part of the day. People are telling me I look a little pale. I say this is nothing compared to the week before.

I had a friend and her husband visit earlier in the week. He had had one of the drugs I am on as part of a chemotherapy regime a couple of years ago. And similarly it took him a long time in the cycle to recover. Of the other regimes I have had over the years, this one is certainly taking a long time of still feeling tired. With others I would feel awful for a good few days, but then feel pretty OK in between times.

I know I am tired. I have no interest in cooking whatsoever. Just can't face the effort of it. And this is very unlike me. I want to drive everywhere because I am scared I will get somewhere and be too tired to get back. Usually I like to walk everywhere as much as I can. And I am having to manage very carefully I don't have too many activities in a single day. I am well aware if I do too many then I am going to wipe myself out for a couple of days and then I won't be doing any.

I'm loving the winter Olympics though. And the Ugly Betty box set and radio 4 are keeping me good. These things I can't do in the days after my chemo as I can't even think. Depending on my blood count it will be time to go again at the end of next week. But I know I can keep doing it. I just know I can.

My friends Mum sent me a lovely email yesterday. At the end she had attached this poem:

What cancer cannot do
It cannot cripple Love
It cannot shatter Hope
It cannot corrode Faith
It cannot destroy Peace
It cannot suppress Memories
It cannot silence Courage
It cannot invade the Soul
It cannot steal Eternal Life
It cannot conquer the Spirit

What a night (and Meeting HRH)

Wow. What a night. Cannot believe it. Cannot believe the course of the week. For days I am firmly in chemo land, literally unable to move at times, and then last night I was in a different place.

Ah. Where to start.

The Event. The Anna Valentine Fashion Show in aid of Maggies Cancer Centres. Anna Valentine is an amazing designer who famously dressed HRH The Duchess of Cornwall for her wedding to Prince Charles.

The location. The Royal Courts of Justice, London. LOVE places like this. LOVE this about London. They are so old and so magnificent. Incredible building.

Why am I there? My lovely friend Lucy is an old friend of Anna Valentines. She has been on the committee for organising this event for months. I have been invited to attend like lots of her other friends and committed to go ages ago.

Obviously this week has been so hard it had been very doubtful at times whether I would be able to make it. But I did. And yesterday lunchtime Lucy tells me it is good I am coming because I am her plus one as one of the very specially selected people to meet and greet HRH The Duchess of Cornwall (yes Camilla) herself at the evening. What?!! I know. I know.

So we arrive. I feel like a different person in heels and my black dress. I loose a false nail before we even get to the venue but hope no one will notice. The place looks amazing. There is much re event stress going on - the amount of organisation that has gone into this is incredible.

We head to the drinks reception. I have a glass of champagne. The girl who could only manage ice cubes two days earlier is sipping a glass of fizz and has an enormous smile on her face. All the food is prepared my famous chef Tom Aitken. I like the canapes but don't have many as am too scared it may all ooze down my front before I meet HRH.

We are told that at 7.10 to stand in a particular spot and HRH will come and meet us. It is really crazy busy in there so we are moved to a slightly quieter area. The Hello! photographers are told to make sure they get pictures of us talking to Camilla. Loads of people are now looking at us like we are VIPs ourselves because we are clearly next to meet her.

We have practiced our curtsy's. Apparently the official line we are to say is "It is very nice to meet you your Royal Highness." We are both giggling and think we are going to totally mess that entire thing up. As I am stood there about to meet her I say to Lucy "This is so nuts. I haven't even told my neighbours I have cancer, and now I think I am about to tell the wife of the heir to the throne!"

Camilla is brought over to us. We are introduced. We do some attempt at our curtsy and our line. But Camilla is really down to earth and isn't waiting for us to make sure we do it all right. We talk for probably about 5 minutes or so before she is moved on. We talk about Maggies. We talk about Anna Valentine. We say I have not been well all week and how pleased we are I made it. Camilla smiles and looks at the glass of champagne in my hand and tells me how good it is I am having a glass of that. During that time there are official photographers taking photo's of the moment. And then she is moved on.

And then we move on to talk to..... Rupert Everett and Janet Ellis. Rupert Everett has enormous nostrils. Seriously gigantic. Lucy tries all the shots to get him to laugh at her jokes. I think he must have been nervous about his speech. I get chatting to Janet Ellis. She is SO lovely. It is like a happy childhood moment talking to the Blue Peter presenter of my youth. We talk about her kids. We talk about Maggies. We talk about my week. She is so surprised because last night I looked really well. We start talking about hair and wigs. She knows this amazing wig cutter who apparently will restyle my beautiful Parisian real hair wig for me and make it even better. She says to make sure I give her my phone number during the evening. I feel like she is my new friend!

We then head down for the Event itself. Janet's speech is fabulous. It doesn't make me upset at all. I just agree with every word. Then the show starts.

The models all stick their hips forward and slouch back as they walk. The clothes are beautiful. Truly stunning. Wish I had some of them. The fabrics just float and hang in a way that oozes chic and quality and style.

Then we have some more Tom Aitken food and, yes, I have another glass of champagne. It's the real stuff and tastes fantastic. There is an auction for prizes as well as a silent auction for loads of stuff people have donated. The biggest single amount raised I think was £22,000 for a 2 week holiday in the Seychelles. Sadie Frosts boyfriends band play. We have much debate because no one can remember his name. Scott something. I have no photo's as we were not allowed to take cameras to the evening. But am so hoping to be able to get some of the official ones that the Hello! photographer took. I think I should be able to and then will scan some in and post them.

It gets to nearly 10 and my body starts to give in. I start to feel I am struggling a little to sit in the chair. The event officially ends at 10.30 so decide I must go. I exchange smiles with Lulu Guinness. In true Jo style I have lost my coat tag so cause problems at the cloakroom looking for a black size 8 Karen Millen Coat..... but it is found.

I squeeze my lovely friend Lucy unable to say words of what a fairy tale night it has been. Dare I say it, the sweet is sweeter, given the days before. I step out onto the Strand, get straight into a black cab and am home in bed about half an hour.

As my head touches the pillow I smile. And am grateful for this night. The philosophy of Maggies is not to allow the fear of dying to stop the joy of living. And tonight I had joy living.

http://www.maggiescentres.org/maggies/maggiescentres/home/home.html

Different day

I can hardly type. This isn't a chemo side effect. It is false nails. I bought them in boots earlier in an emergency. Now I am struggling to do ANYTHING. Not helpful as:

I am wearing a frock. Yes a frock. And diamonds. Real ones. 24 hours ago I was firmly on "i don't think so" BUT I have turned a corner. I feel like a human being. And this human being is about to meet a VERY famous person.

I am off to the Anna Valentine fashion show in aid of Maggies Cancer Centres. It is at the Royal Courts of Justice. There are going to be tonnes of celebs there (oh yes including me.)

I will write all about it tomorrow I hope. My friend is on the organising committee and told me this afternoon that we are going to meet the famous person.

Thankful the dress and shoes I bought on line fit me. Thankful I was too weak to wash my own hair so booked myself a blow dry today.

Thankful for concealer. And make up.

My friend is borrowing an uber expensive dress and going to look stunning. I have coloured in my bags, and tried to make myself look as pretty as I can today.

Maybe I need to practice my curtsy?

I am laughing so much. I can't cry because of the mascara. I have spent the last week in chemo land horridness. But today is a different day.

I said I would emerge.