'Monday, Monday, so good to me'
11/10/2021
Monday (day 7 after chemo), and I have two reasons to celebrate. One, I just finished my first course of Filgrastim injections and two, it’s my birthday.
I’m half a century. EEK!
I’d like to say that I’m celebrating turning 50 with good grace and dignity - I’m officially ‘middle-aged’ after all. Sporting grey hair and stocking up on Tena Lady while William swigs back another Viagra. Well… that’s how advertisements for the over 50s see us.
Take, for example, SunLife Insurance and their advertised image of people aged 50 plus. According to this financial services company, we should be wearing padded bodywarmers with optional binoculars and getting together in the great outdoors. Really?
Okay, I do enjoy the countryside, so perhaps this stereotype is more about me than I care to think. Then again, I still feel like I’m in my 30s (even with cancer) and prefer skinny jeans to elasticated slacks.
Indeed, the past few days have made me feel decrepit, but the chemo side effects are wearing off now. So on this milestone birthday, I’m jumping on the zip slide and celebrating another year of being alive and feeling full of vinegar…
Weeee!
Admittedly, I wasn’t able to throw a big party, but this was so much better. Balancing my behind on a tiny rubber seat while Rhi pulled me faster and faster. Even mum had a go and it was fabulous.
I think we all know that having fun with family is seriously beneficial, but after all the fear and tension that came with my cancer diagnosis, throwing our legs in the air and caution to the wind was such a release. On that note, here’s a wee Irish blessing for you;
‘As you slide down the banister of life, may the splinters never point in the wrong direction’.  :D
From past to present
Another thing that marks this birthday is that I was born on a Monday, a brand new presence in the world. My dad (an officer and a gentleman) doted on me, so it was inevitable really that I became daddy’s girl.
For five full years, I was the apple of his eye - a tomboy who loved nothing more than cycling and fishing with her dad. That was until my brother, Ross, came along…
But I had eyes on him.
When mum and dad weren’t looking, I would make my little brother’s life a misery by dressing him up like a girl (I always wanted a sister). This involved forcing a pair of mum’s American Tan tights over his head and pleating the legs to resemble long hair.
After suffering years of humiliation and torture, Ross finally got his own back when he grew much taller and stronger than me. A pinnacle moment was when he threatened to throw me into the living room wall if I didn’t stop teasing him.
Rossyboy was only 16 then. But even though he still dresses a bit fruity (all be it on his own accord), I never wound him up again. Funny that!
Then there’s mum, my confidant and stalwart companion who’s always beside me no matter what.
She stayed with me for 18 long hours when I gave birth to my daughter, and has helped me navigate the rocky road of motherhood ever since.
In fact, mum’s always been my cheerleader. Shaking her pompoms on the side-lines of my life and encouraging me to take the next step forward. But now that I find myself teetering on the brink of being past it with one foot firmly in the grave, I just hope the other doesn’t slip on a greasy poke.
Have a good Monday everyone.
