Amanda says.... 'DAYS BEHIND MY EMOTIONS - TUESDAY BLUES......'

I don't work Monday's, so Tuesday is the day that I occasionally experience what is commonly referred to as the Monday Blues. A low pressure that often follows a weekend high - usually brought about by a reluctance to return to a ridged work routine after two days of lovely fun filled freedom. Thankfully, I enjoy my job and so Monday (or Tuesday in my case) blues aren’t that much of an issue for me. Today however - I'm loathing Tuesday,
be it Blue, Black or any other bloody colour – its just shit. Its Tuesday the 8th of March 2011 and my right tit has been hacked off and in its place is a painful void. I'm pissed off. Unlike the weekend, my right tit is not going to make another lovely appearance in 3 days time. I remain grumpy throughout the morning. No-one can stop me grieving my loss. It's my right. It was my breast and god damn anyone who tells me not to be sad.

By early afternoon I inwardly resemble a dark storm cloud. I don’t want the heavens to open and lightening to strike those I love or those who are simply trying to care for me. I search for peace of mind through meditation and attempt to diffuse the Genus Cumulonimbus that is threatening to wreak havoc on my positive horizon. I hope also to find the road back to where sleep resides.

Thankfully, I managed several short naps, however my overall mood remained frustratingly low. Mark revisited at around 7pm - bringing with him a super healthy cancer fighting salad - lovingly prepared especially for me. By way of thanks: I moaned, “you are late and I am starving”. I moaned, “I hate lettuce when it is left in big chunks”. And then I just generally moaned about everything. Poor Mark - when he visits, I say leave. Then when he goes home, I question why he doesn't stay and support me and ask him come back. Poor sod doesn't know what to do for the best. I think what he needs is an emotional bullet proof jacket. Anyone got a spare one lying around that he could borrow?


Thankfully, for both our sanities, once I had eaten the salad, taken more pain killers, and had my arm and head lovingly stroked for 10 minutes my mood lifted and I became recognisable again (minus a tit of course). I apologised to my lovely husband for my irrational behaviour - luckily for me, Mark's very understanding (most of the time anyway) and forgave me instantly.


Later Robyn came to visit and brought with her a lovely hand made card she'd crafted for me at college. I had not wanted visitors nor cards but I have to admit it was great to see the little sprog, and the card she had made me was very touching. Initially, she appeared uncomfortable, perhaps even a little shell-shocked - but it wasn't long before we were all giggling away. I was showing her that I was indeed now flatter chested than her (on one side anyway). She looked at my covered wound with interest and concern and asked lots of question about how and when they were going to even me out. She wasn’t quite so keen to look at my drain and blood bag and went a little pale when I held it up. Cant say I blame her it was pretty gross. If you’re thinking “ oh I wish I'd seen the drain pumping blood and lymph fluid from AJ's body”, then fret not for I do have pictures and am happy to distribute them to any Gore-miesters who may feel they missed out. I also have a pic of my right tit all surgical marked up and ready for the off! Though I may have to charge for that pic. Ha ha! God knows (and yes Carl, he does know - everything. Didn’t your mother manage to knock any sense in to you. You are the heathen not Kesh!) where such a pic could end up! Speaking of Gore! After Robyn departed, Mark and I finished up the evening with a dose of Being Human. I’m not a big TV fan but Being Human is one of about three programmes I regularly watch. I love it. It has everything you could wish for to help you get a good nights sleep: Vampires, Ghosts, Werewolves and gore galore. Ha ha! If you’ve never seen it your missing out on great gory entertainment. I don’t enjoy watching shows where actors are simply playing at real life. I do however like a bit of fantasy filled drama and Being Human (BBC3 Sunday night I think) definitely provides that. Mark was kicked out around 10pm. A whole hour after visiting had finished, so I guess I cant complain. But, I shall. I don’t see why he wasn’t allowed to camp over on the floor on his inflatable fishing mat. Bloody nurses, such sticklers for rules and regulations. (Sorry Lynney don’t mean to curse your profession, aside from being sticklers, most nurses do a wonderful healing job x )