Counting blessings

Another tough old month... I haven't really had the energy or the inclination to post on here.  I might have felt that the depression and feeling low was heavily assisted by the drugs, but there's been plenty of stuff going on that would make Pollyana retire into the corner with a packet of fags and a case of vodka.  I don't do fags but I have to admit to a few more G&Ts than is usual, I try not to on "school nights" - but it's all been a bit manky recently.

First thing to get over is the starkest, sharpest reminder I could have had that my lot has not been a particularly unhappy one.  A few weeks ago I had the sad news that the lovely Lisa had been told that her cancer was back, and not going to be fixable this time.  A few days ago, Lisa revealed that the situation was actually much worse than had been thought, and she's in a pretty desperate place.  The cruelest irony is that she left one hospital, where she'd just met her brand new baby nephew, to go to another one to be told that her time with him will be frighteningly short. Life can be a real bitch sometimes.  A couple of days later she seems to have bounced back a bit - if anyone can bounce back at such a time - rather she seems to be facing the days with her trademark "up yours, cancer" attitude.  I've often said that getting through cancer isn't often about a brave battle, it's more of a soul-destroying slog, but Lisa is probably the bravest person I have ever encountered.  I won't harp on any more about her... she's telling her own story on her own blog in her own words, and more eloquently than I could hope to.  I guess I should leave it to her.

Actually, I think I will just shut up for now as once again I can't think of anything sensible to say.