I’ve been feeling a little down lately. A few months ago I had a minor ‘Big C’ scare and six weeks ago I had to have something called a Cone Biopsy. (Those of you who wish to know all the gory medical details, look here).
It’s been inconvenient not to be able to carry anything, temper my walking (I don’t like to saunter), constantly rest and call in a few sick days at the book shop. (True to form, the people at England’s Lane Books have been wonderfully understanding). Because I’ve not been able to exercise, I’ve put on weight. The joy of it. As the weeks have gone by, I’ve become more and more frustrated with my body’s incapacity to heal. I’ve basically become an angry old bitch. There have been moments when I’ve even wished I was a man. I know, it’s been bad.
Yesterday at the book shop I got talking to one of the customers, and we discovered that we both had the same procedure done. I’m not in the habit of telling people about my op at the shop – honestly, I don’t, but yesterday somehow it just poured out of me. And the lady was so nice; she just looked at me and said, ‘It was awful, the whole healing process took at least six weeks, but after that it was all well. Back to normal. So don’t worry!’
I apologised for burdening her with my health issues (see how English I’ve become!). She smiled and said, ‘Please, I know exactly how it is.’
And today when I woke up I did feel normal. All symptoms I’ve had following the operation are gone. And when I was walking to Hampstead Village to meet a friend for lunch, I saw these sunflowers and felt alive and well again.