It's 8.41 and R is not even yet at Cirencester and picking him up and still making chemo is becoming completely undoable.
His lazy-arse of a colleague, combined with the weather and the traffic, have conspired to leave me flying solo today.
I hate doing this by myself. It's pathetic I know but having R there means he successfully distracts me with really bad jokes just as they're doing key manoueuvres with needles and drugs. When he told me on the phone I thought nothing off it and then five minutes later found myself panicking. I considered phoning a friend who I know is twiddling her thumbs at work at the moment and might be able to spare a couple of hours today. But then I remembered. She hates needles and almost faints when I tell her all the gory details.
I hate feeling this pathetic about procedures. It undermines my own air-brushed image of myself.
Ah well, I just have to keep myself in that state of denial a little longer. Focus on the boob tattoo, and the 3-D model. That's all I'm heading into town for right?
Still haven't felt sick and that's a plus. Altho I did swallow two Domperidone with breakfast...