Looking like an emoji…

Well, the secret is out and the gossip is true… I look like an emoji.

I’d like to think I look like the laughing emoji, you know the one, with the tears of laughter flying from it’s eyes… but realistically I probably look more like the emoji with googly eyes, face tipped to one side, tongue hanging out, wondering what in the world has just happened.

Sometimes I wonder how one little breast lump, that really wasn’t bothering me, could cause so much trouble? I mean, I’m fit and I’m healthy. I have no family history. I don’t do any of the things that are suggested to trigger notorious lumps, and yet, here I am… barely hanging onto my eyebrows.

I actually think my hair loss may have been caused by brain evaporation as much as chemo. As soon as randoms start throwing the C-bomb at you (a word we don’t tend to use as it causes people to completely either freak out and try to tuck a blanket around your legs and treat you like an invalid which is very difficult if you’re out running…. OR run for the hills as if you have leprosy and they don’t know what to say when, ‘hey, beautiful day, isn’t it?’ would have been fine), your brain starts to overheat, evaporate, and disintegrate. I swear I’m left with 10% of what I started with!

It was pretty much a decision that made itself. No consulting for me this year. But what it does mean is that I have time to write, to keep studying, to garden and most importantly of all, to hang out with my family and finally teach my border collie to jump into the car!

I am so grateful to have the right type of lump, in an age where science has created the most magnificently effective chemo, available in my home town. It also helps that I’m a naturopath, full of just the knowledge that allows this process to be one that I can go ‘through,’ in less than a year.

I might cry sometimes because I still don’t like the idea of chemicals needed to do their thing in my body at the moment, or because I really don’t like the idea of surgery, or because I miss my crazy and usually undoable hair, but I know that my journey hasn’t got a scratch on what a lot of people go through or deal with on a daily basis.

Besides, oncology is absolutly amazing! And the more I learn about how naturopathy can support this journey, the more impressed I am with my amazing industry.

So before you start a sentence with, ‘you know what you need to do…’ please don’t. I’ve already read about it and already heard the rumour. I’ve been in love with complmemtary health since I was 18… and I’m now a fair way from 18!

So if you pop by, or call and I don’t answer, it’s because I’m either asleep or out running, I’m either dancing around the house with music on or watching a movie on the couch, I could be potting in the greenhouse or mosaicing in the shed. Please don’t be offended when I don’t answer, my natural state is ‘happily hermit.’

And Naturopathically? For now, I can fill existing prescriptions and you can swing by and pick them up. But I also have blogs coming soon on Shitake mushrooms, the value of plant-based diets, and possibly how blue the sky is on the day my brain checks out.

2020 is an amazing and very interesting year (insert pondering emoji here). I hope it’s every bit as amazing and a lot less interesting for all of you.

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