Womankind(ness)

Oh how the side effects keep on coming. I'm not on medication currently, but I am experiencing worryingly high levels of  sappiness, particularly when it comes to anyone around me.
This is not helped by various act of kindness that have come my way over the last couple of weeks, and may I remind you that I have very little in the way of eyelashes to hold the waterworks in...

Firstly and most importantly, The Race for Life, which although it's only up to 10k, seems to go on FOREVER. Way back in June the Lookettes ran the 5k, last weekend Katie and Co. ran 10k, as did my PR friends at The Communication Store, and still to come are the Arden PR team, dedicating their efforts to Look Good Feel Better. Although there is no getting around the fact that this is all amazing in itself, it was only when the Dream Team travelled to Blackheath to cheer Katie on that the real amazingness hit me. It could have been because she had this pinned to her back so the other runners could see who she was doing it for.

It could have been because she roped in three lovely friends, who I only met recently, who had my name on their backs too. I mean come on. Standing at the sidelines with Dadjokes, mum and dad, reading everyone's backs and feeling proud and humbled in equal measures, was an emotional experience.  Dadjokes duly noted, 'it's quite a big deal, this pink running thing isn't it?' Quite.

While I have you, a little story of kindness to warm some more cockles. While I spent a measly 24 woozy hours on the ward at the hospital after my surgery, I somehow forged a friendship with Madge, the lady in the bed opposite mine. I say somehow because my morphine addled memory of those hours is blurry at best, (I was so sure I was fully compos mentis at the time too). But I only remember a couple of short conversations in between visitors and iPad movies and trips to the toilet. This was enough for her to go the lovely effort of fathoming out where I work, ordering me a helpful book on Amazon and getting it sent to the office, with a sweet note. I mean come on! Clearly she had much less morphine than I did. Madge, if you're reading this, thank you thank you x

Anyone who asks after my mum makes me want to hug something. It is certainly true that watching your daughter go through something bad, is really bad, this I know (more so now that I'm getting better, since she's more free with the truth these days; "no Sophie I'm fine, everything's fine, yes I can sleep fine!" was all basically b*ll*cks), but the ones who sent her whole care packages just tipped me over the edge. Sadly my dad couldn't benefit quite as much since he's not as receptive to Estee Lauder Day Wear or Decleor Hydra Floral Cream...

Finally and profoundly, I'm not sure how to sum up this whole work thing, but 'kind' seems to be top of the list. I am a workaholic to the point of necessitating a 12 step programme (look at me now, typing when banned - I am sitting on my left hand to stop its natural inclination toward keyboard). I am very fortunate to have such supportive management at Look that they make efforts to keep me away from the office to concentrate on getting better. I'm surprised they haven't positioned a security guard at the gates to encourage me back home. Chemo brain and rollercoaster-emotions have made me near useless when I do go in; it's likely more an opportunity to showcase my Internet wardrobe than to contribute anything useful editorially. Although I think they do read this, in which case I retract former statement.

Dadjokes' work place manages to make me a bit weepy if I think about them too hard too. It's not luck that had him holding my hand at every hospital visit, chemo administration and orders to come home and rub my back/feed me painkillers/plump my pillows. If promotions are possible at the top, I think his people are deserved, based purely on compassion and flexibility - very important managerial traits.

But please give him one too so we can go private next time... *wink*