I’m trying to be understanding and not throw something. This is how I started a post last week but never shared. I also didn’t throw anything. I just let it go. I know love is shared in a multitude of different ways and I know the terrain of cancer or any disease is not one easily traversed by those on the sidelines. And I understand how we all view the world is sculpted by our own experience and reality. But really. If you know me you know exactly who I am and what I think. Because fortunately or unfortunately there is nothing I do not share. I’m outspoken, I swear, I’m hardcore, I’m soft, I’m firm, I’m flexible, I’m insecure, I’m bold, I’m cautious, I’m controlling, I’m fallible, I’m scared, I’m brave but what I’m really really not is judgemental. Even the things I share about how not to speak to a person with cancer should be read in the tone in which they are intended. If that makes you fearful of how to be with me then its obvious to me you really don’t know me. Just tell me how you feel. Just rock up on my doorstep. Leave a note in my letterbox. Just send me a message. Call me. Just be there. Without your presence needing to be acknowledged because believe you me it is. No one is invited in. In to what? It just happens. But whatever you do, know I will not respond well to judgement of any kind. Especially not judgement and self pity masquerading as love and concern. I want to bold that last line, but I don’t like bold fonts. This fucking world is tough enough for many of us at times and when we are blindsided by more crap all we need from our friends is fuck I love you , I’ve got you. I’ve got your back. And don’t tell me you are concerned for me or fearful of the choices I make. How insulting to me and my life thus far. I’m an educated aware woman. If what I feel I need is a long lunch with copious amounts of pinot gris then believe you me that is exactly what I need.And if that makes you worry about me, hah, how sweet of you but really find someone else to worry about. I’m sorted. I never asked you to. Life is a beautiful wonderful and yes, sometimes fucked up gift and I’m determined to make the most of every little moment without worrying about what you might think. And if you are thinking about me please let it be with regret and kindness because I promise you that’s what I’m doing for you. Because really really, people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.

I will be pleasantly surprised apparently at how fast my eyebrows go back. So said my oncologist and actually I am. She was also a tad non plussed that they fell out a couple of months post treatment but then again it does happen.  And they are growing back, all just looks a bit smudgy now. I’m less pleasantly surprised that my eyelashes were also not done with falling out. But the little stubby bits also seem to be getting a tad feistier. I’m a little done with this all.This letting the dust settle is not as easy as it seems. At least before I felt like I was busy in treatment as unpleasant as it was. I was actively doing something. Something more than popping a horrendous pill that just makes me feel old. I’m finding it rather hard to settle back down to being me. Because I don’t feel like me. But I’ll find me. Just like my eyelashes, I’m feeling a tad feistier everyday.