I’m now have eleven chemotherapy treatments done, which means FIVE treatments left, and THREE until I go to Canada.

My parents are rolling the ball in Canada, working things out on my behalf. We have to decide upon critical issues like when to put up the Christmas tree, who will decorate, and how many presents can fit into one stocking?

Essential matters.

Plus the OHIP (Ontario health care), scheduling, patient info and transferring of files – all that too.

But the ball is rolling.

Breaking news: my Swedish roots are abandoning me, instead I’m turning into a Monk. Zsolt was kind enough yesterday to point out that I have a ‘bald’ spot across the top of my head, with dark hair growing all around. MONK (also MANLY). Should I be embarrassed by this development? Well, maybe if the hair grows out an inch or so and the top is still shiny. . . then I’ll wear a hat. Meanwhile I’m simply glad to see it growing.

Breaking news part two: My weight is back to pre-chemotherapy measurements. Ever since Paclitaxel started I’ve been slowly putting the pounds back onto my shrunken frame. My rib cage is less pronounced, and I feel a tad more womanly. Meanwhile, the other side of my head is saying, “Alright lady, that’s enough with the weight gaining, time to slow down.”

But Christmas is coming, which means good food –plenty of good food. So whatever. Now is not the time to worry over weight (though that doesn’t mean I won’t worry, because it’s compulsive – BUT I know I’m being an idiot). Beside, who can say no to gingerbread cookies, and stuffing, and turkey, and mashed potatoes, and cheesecake, and baked filo wraps, and hot chocolate, and this and that, and all the goodies I’ll soon be eating.

Right. Twelve down (as of tomorrow), and four left.

This is progress.

PS. Today is my Name Day. Happy Name Day to all Catherines everywhere!

PPS. My big toes are starting to have a slight tingle. I’m not too happy about this, but it is still quite slight.