I hadn't meant to write three posts in a row about this sort of thing, it just happened that way. Honest.
Yesterday morning, R and I are on our way to Lovebox (a music festival which ain't worth the money - more later). We're harrassed, running later than planned, and the lateness was my fault, which made me all tearful and stressed out (everything this weekend has made me tearful and stressed out, so this was not hard). I'm wrung out by the last three weeks of doing far too much and the cracks are starting to show...
We're on the Central line and although the tears have passed, the day has started badly. Then a woman gets on. R stares at her and then I realise why. She's red in the face, wearing Nike gear, and a race number. She's just run Race for Life for Cancer Research. To top it all, she has a pink ribbon on her top.
She sits and catches us staring. She smiles and nods at me and my baldness.
In my emotional state, the thought of this woman raising money for something so important to me right now is overwhelming. I smile weakly back at her and then turn my face away, ashamed of the tears I am now crying.
As we leave the tube I talk to her, explaining I'm feeling a little tired and emotional and the thought of people raising money for what I'm going through just pushed me over the edge. She is full of enthusiasm for the day "You should have seen it. 8,000 women all running for cancer. It was amazing!"
The tube doors are almost about to close, I have to leave. And I walk away even more emotional than before. Having lived a lucky, comfortable, middle-class kind of a life, I've raised money for charity but have never yet been in a position where I may be the beneficiary. The thought of all these people running around town, busting a gut for cancer research - it's all very touching and I make my way with R to the worst festival we've been at for a while, wiping yet more tears from my eyes.
This whole chemo-fatigue thing. It plays havoc with your emotions. I am worse than in my worst PMT moments.