It’s all about me. Isn’t it?

I know I have a massive WHAT ABOUT ME complex. Also known as middle child syndrome and also getting so much attention since my diagnosis. Which has lessened over the years. Obviously. It’s old news. Time moves on. Other people get Cancer. Die from cancer. Get married. Have babies. Buy houses. Change jobs. All these things are important to them. I get that. I really do. 

Yet. 

What about me? And trust me. I’m so fucking bored of it all. More than you are. 11 and a half years. So. Fucking. Dull. I wish it was over. That I could move on. That I could...Well. My parallel life. And it’s not to say I won’t. Tick tock. Tick tock. 

The NHS was 70 last week and all I saw were posts saying how amazing it is and how people are happy it’s saved them. And it is. I mean it’s been completely broken by the general public using it for what it’s not meant to be for. For too many chronically ill people like me draining resources. For people demanding aspirin on free prescription instead of paying 70p for it in the shop. And so much more. 

And I hate I cost so much. I feel very guilty about it. But at the same time I am grateful that I don’t get a bill every time I go to clinic and pharmacy. I wouldn’t be able to pay for it if I had to on an ongoing basis. I am so grateful for all of those who pay their taxes that pays for my treatment. 

And yet. Am I grateful that the NHS has saved my life? Honestly? I don’t know. This is of course said knowing that I won’t die. I might feel very differently if I was saying goodbye to my life right now. 

I seem to be writing on a topic I wasn’t going to. Obviously I need to get it out. 

My fatigue is so fucking awful at the moment. It’s harder to be happy. 

And what about me? I write for an American site and occasionally I look at the comments and it’s interesting. They are all about themselves. No one really says ‘great blog’ or ‘thank you’ or ‘I feel the same’. Not that they should of course. That’s what I’m used to from the British people who read my blog. Getting support from them in their comments. Especially my Bloodwise gang. They keep it focused on me, not them. And another thing about the Americans is that they always mention Myeloma. I’ve got fucking CHRONIC MYELOID LEUKAEMIA. it’s DIFFERENT. Faaarking hell. And I don’t know if it’s because they want to mention Myeloma and increase awareness. Which is great obviously. Everyone thinks Myeloma is skin cancer. But. I don’t fucking have that fucking cancer. And it pisses me off. 

I could not write for them. But. It would be one less opportunity to talk about me. 

I’m so fed up of it all. It’s exhausting. I get a chemo break in just over 2 week’s for 2 week’s. I can’t wait. I should get 4 days of being me again. If my leukaemic rate has dropped enough I’m going to ask for a dose reduction on Monday. It hasn’t dropped as fast as my consultant would like though to date. 

I’m the joys of spring today... at least I have a tan. And this makes me happy. 

Started thinking about another tattoo.... an elephant. To remind me to be strong. They are my spirit animal. I love them so much. Always have done. 

With love and hope. Always hope. Even if it’s whinging hope. 

XxX