First things first: I'm now on morphine, so please lower any expectations you may have. The sole reason I still know my arse from my elbow is that only one of those things hurts. I'm currently spending my days getting zapped at the hospital, asleep, off my knockers on painkillers, or smearing various ointments on my undercarriage. So it's an exciting life.
The blister finally burst, but it's still giving me grief. Anyone who's ever had a popped blister (which, let's face it, is everyone) knows how raw those little sods can be. And mine was a size that - as an old buddy of mine said when she saw a picture of it - made it not so much a blister as a flotation device.
The morphine is helping. I was alarmed, however, to see this warning on the packaging:
I'm hoping this message means "It doesn't, but our lawyers told us we had to say this", as opposed to "Take too much, and this will happen to you":
Anyway, I'm very glad to have the pain relief, because the effects of radiotherapy are akin to having a nasty case of sunburn and I'm certainly feeling those effects now. I even looked in the mirror today to see how my poor little rear was faring. I shan't traumatise you by telling you how it looked. Also, for no particular reason, here is a picture of a baboon.
I have eight more sessions to go.
My response to this: Yay! Only eight more sessions!
My arse's response: Oh God. Eight more sessions *whimper*
The other day, The Independent ran a story about a jellyfish that has a transient anus. I wish, my friends. I wish.
Such an accurate description.
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