I look at my Facebook friends, and I currently have 284. When I look closely, and whittle it down, there are probably literally just a handful that I actually consider to be “close” friends. Just a few that I would call up with news, or share private things with.
Some of those 284, I haven’t seen since school. The majority didn’t bother to contact me when I had a cancer diagnosis, and then some hadn’t seen me for years and years, yet came to support me by doing Race for Life with me whilst I was half way through cancer treatment.
Some of them I thought I used to be quite close with, and now I don’t really see them any more, and when I do, I feel awkward. Some of them are new friends, some of them old.
Some of them, I haven’t ever met, and we have been brought together by cancer, or just by chatting over Twitter. Some people don’t get that, and that’s fine. It’s not for everyone, just as Facebook isn’t for everyone.
I love Facebook. I really do. I reconnected with one of my best friends from school on it about four years ago, and we have become best friends again. She was the only one of my friends that remembered that while I had chemo on Wednesdays, it was always the Friday I would feel the worst, and I used to get text messages on the Friday to tell me she as thinking of me. That let me know that I was loved. (Yes, Bill, this means you!xxx)
People texting me to wish me well when it was a chemo day made me feel loved. I am grateful for every single one of those texts. I am grateful to every person that came to see me in hospital, or sat with me in chemo, sent a card or flowers.
I know it wasn’t possible for everyone who wanted to visit/come to chemo with me to do so, and I am totally fine with that. Life and distance gets in the way.
But equally, I hate Facebook. It makes friendships so public. It has caused me on more than one occasion to be upset because I’ve seen something that someone has written on someone else’s wall.
But, you know what? Some of the loveliest support I got, was from these people that I hadn’t met, and had actually found on Twitter. Does it make them any less of a friend because I haven’t met them? No. Absolutely not.
I got to meet some of these people at CyberMummy, and it wasn’t awkward, or stifled. It was comfortable. It felt like we had known each other for ages. And I am looking forward to seeing them again.
“Good friends are like stars…. You don’t always see them, but you know they are always there.”
This week has been a long week. I woke up this morning not actually sure what day it was. Jake has been ill. Again.
Surprisingly enough, his cough hasn’t been as bad this time, but he has had a high temperature since Sunday. He just hasn’t been himself. He’s been really groggy, napping twice a day by choice, without me having to convince him he wants to. Taking himself to bed of a night. Just a completely different little boy. Even the doctor could tell he wasn’t himself.
At 5am yesterday morning, his temperature reached 40.4 (104.72). That was scary. We ran a cool bath, opened the windows, gave paracetamol and ibuprofen and managed to get it back down. It stayed down for the majority of the day yesterday, and then at tea time got high again.
I’m just so tired of him being ill all the time.
Today, he seems better in himself and he had a good night’s sleep, but his temperature is still high. Hopefully we are over the worst of it.
One important lesson I have learned over the last few days is that when I make a cup of coffee, not to leave it out of reach, because chances are he will fall asleep on me, and it will go cold.
Don’t you just hate busybodies?
Shock, horror, I was engaged once before when I was 22 (at least I *think* I was 22, I’ve blanked a lot of it out). It wasn’t a particularly bad relationship, but his parents were awful. Controlling isn’t the right word, they were worse than that. His mother refusing to speak to him for a week when we said we were going to be living near my parents and not them. His dad hitting him when he refused second hand paint because we wanted to choose our own. His mother getting jealous when he gave me a kiss and a cuddle and wanting one herself. Him being the same age as me and still kissing his mum on the lips. His mother getting funny if she hadn’t spoken to her other married son twice that day.
Anyway, I digress.
This weekend, my parents bumped into an old friend of theirs that also knows the ex and his family and insisted on telling my mum that he was married now (to his brother’s wife identical twin sister) and had two children blah blah blah.
My mum didn’t ask for this information, my mum doesn’t care. She knows perfectly well (and has told me) that I’ve done better for myself.
Why though did this interfering so and so feel the need to tell my mum all of this? My mum didn’t ask. What reaction was she hoping for? Did she expect my mum to fall down onto her knees wailing and crying “That should have been my daughter”? She would have been disappointed if it was.
I have been married for 5 years, surely you would have thought people realised I was over it by now. Am I upset that he’s married with kids? No. A bit weirded out that he married his sister in laws identical twin, maybe, but not upset. In fact, given on how close his mother wants the family to be, it’s ideal for him.
However what does upset me, is that no doubt, word has gotten back to him about me, and what I’m doing, and that I’m married with a child and had cancer blah blah blah. He’s not part of my life anymore for a reason, and I don’t feel like he needs to know about my life, just like I don’t need to know about his.
I have been pregnant three times. I am not pregnant now. I only have one child. It doesn’t take a genius to do the maths there.
Whilst I was going through my treatment for cancer, one of my main concerns was whether or not I would be able to have more children. I have said on many occasions that I am not done being a mum yet. We always wanted two children, a boy and a girl with about two years difference between them.
Cancer changed our plans, and it seems as though two years between them is nothing but a pipe dream, seeing as Jake is already two and I’m not pregnant. And, even if I got pregnant this month, the baby would be due in March, just two months before Jake is three.
I’m not a patient person. I don’t like waiting for things to happen, and I especially don’t like it when things are out of my control.
Some people would say that we have only been trying for four months (does it matter that it’s “only” been four months when month one of that was a loss, isn’t it worse for me because I’ve HAD a loss and the people saying that never have and managed to conceive on the first month of trying?), or that I shouldn’t complain because I already have a child and I should count myself lucky for that. And I do.
But, I don’t know what the chemo has done to my body. And although I ovulate every month, that doesn’t mean that I will conceive. And then when I did conceive about 7 months after chemo finished, it was a chemical pregnancy/early miscarriage.
So, I’m feeling really fed up that it hasn’t happened, and I hope it does soon. Telling me not to worry about it, and to relax, doesn’t help. Neither does asking me whenever you see me “Any news yet?” When there is news, I shall share it when I’m ready. Until then, please don’t ask, it just irritates me and makes me all the more aware that it hasn’t happened yet.