So I haven’t had the most amazing week so far – it would be safe to say. I spent the weekend as a narcoleptic sloth. By that I mean that I literally couldn’t stay awake. I had a decent night’s sleep got up reasonably early in the morning, did very little and went back to bed, slept some more and so on. I slept for five hours on Sunday afternoon and was utterly exhausted when I went to bed at eight-thirty.
On Monday morning I got a lift in to have chemotherapy. Not like me, I usually drive myself even if I’m half dead.
They took one look at me and I was told in no uncertain terms that I needed to send for an over night bag.
I was admitted and given a blood transfusion, antibiotics and a blood thinning injection. It seemed I had an infection, I was neutrapenic with low haemoglobin and I was dehydrated. Fabulous.
To say I felt like crap would be an understatement and I felt guilty at having to drag poor Mum back into the hospital with an overnight bag (she'd already delivered me there that morning).
The real horror became apparent when I changed into pyjamas and gratefully crawled into bed. My toes! Oh dear Lord. The shellac nail polish was on there so long that it had grown to half way on my big toe, the smaller ones on the other end were bereft of colour altogether and the middle one had a slash left.
Every time a doctor or nurse came in to chat to me I had to curl my toes away in shame.
You know when you shouldn't fixate on something that doesn't actually matter in the scheme of things, but all of a sudden it's the most important thing EVER? Well, that's what happened with my mind and the toenail issue.
Once my body stabilised, I was given my chemotherapy – a day late due to the broken-ness of my being. My doctor said I could go home on the condition that I behaved myself.
I was warned that I was to stay away from large crowds and make sure nobody with a cough or cold came to visit.
I’m due to have more chemotherapy next Monday so I can’t jeopardize that, not to mention the fact I need to mind myself a bit in case a limb drops off or I finally explode...
I managed to stay put at home for a day and then I simply had to break out. It was vital that I fix the toenail situation. I was fixated by it.
So I slunk down to my local nail bar. This establishment is run solely by oriental folks who are absolute perfectionists and they barely charge considering the amount of work they do. Don’t tell them, but I think they’re far too cheap!
I asked for the remaining shellac to be removed and brand new shiny gorgeous stuff to be put on instead.
I was given three bunches of plastic wands with the sample colours painted on the pretend nails at the end of each one and told to choose.
This is always an issue for me. I want them all, especially the glittery ones. Today however, I went for a 1980’s style neon pink. I reckon I needed a bit of a pep in my step so I opted for in-your-face pink!
All was going nicely, the last offending hanger-on shellac was drilled off and the nice man was pushing back my cuticles and clipping them off with a little implement – a gold one, no less.
Next thing, he nicked my toe and the blood spurted right up into the white mask he was wearing on his face. The poor creature got the fright of his life and shouted ‘Crazy toe! Crazy toe!’ as it continued to bleed. You see, the blood thinning injection was doing it’s thing.
It took him a while to stop it from oozing as calm resumed and he continued.
As always, he did a fabulous job and I am once again, in the pink!
Now it doesn’t matter if I get run over, end up in hospital once more or what ever the world wants to throw at me because my toenails aren’t awful looking therefore I won’t need to feel ashamed!
Here’s to a better week, with less drama, less hospital visits and dare I wish it, less sickness.
In fact I'm not going to bother even thinking about sickness, I'm going to continue to continue to fixate on my pink toes while hoping there isn't another visitation from crazy toe.