Quote:
Originally Posted by skysidhe
(Post 603043)
Are you Irish? ;)
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I know you didn't get what I meant originally, but for the record - I am not Irish, but I am of Irish heritage (as we say these days). Mum was not born in Ireland, but her maiden name is Doyle.
The Doyle family are as Irish as they come, and all shades of Irish too. He has the silver hair of the Irish (called White Irish) - which turned in his '20s - no Grecian 2000 in those days! Great Aunt Alice was Black Irish. She was grey by the time she died (last year, our closest great Aunt, much missed) but her hair was black for an unfeasibly long time - she had no vanity so I refuse to believe she dyed it. And Great Aunt Emma was a fiery redhead. Suited her job as a union rep and before-her-time feminist. Now in her eighties and legally blind, she still gives Mum an earful about "Your young gels" when Mum visits. Bless them all - brought up on home grown food - rabbits & geese & cabbage![/quote]
Quote:
Originally Posted by monster
(Post 603094)
Breast Cancer is not usually fast, but it's usually secretive. That's why it's so fucking lethal. Mostly/especially in the bad cases... by the time it's physically detectable, it's way too late to do anything. By the time it's causing pain ...too late.
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Oh yeah. Both Nanny and Breda were fobbed off by doctors for months. Then it was only guesswork that narrowed it down to breast cancer, because it had rampaged through their bodies and was presenting
everywhere. Nan, being a woman of a certain generation (when the Doctor cost good money) wasn't diagnosed until she couldn't move her arm. Literally - she lost all feeling and movement. Her journey was doctor, hospital (that afternoon), hospice, home to die - it took a matter of weeks. When Breda was diagnosed it was already too late for treatment. It's heartbreaking - Mum proves it can be treated in day surgery. Bri proves a more aggressive strain can still be survived. Sigh. Funeral next week.
And the reason I'm posting?
It's just bad news week all round. My Uncle Charlie (not Dad's bro who I sometimes post about, but Nan's bro) had a very bad stroke on Saturday. I didn't know him all that well - some visits, but he's been ill for a long time so I haven't seen him in years. Mum is always in contact with Cousin Susan, who I know a lot better. She's been told by the staff at the hospital that there isn't really any hope and she should say her goodbyes. He's been on oxygen for months, but this has shut him down completely. Sounds like they're going to be asked to make a decision re the machines.
Quote:
Originally Posted by monster
(Post 603363)
cat piss is upsetting me today. And yes, it can be life-threatening.
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Doing my litter tray solid removal today, what was on top? Nice shiny turd with a red elastic band running through it. Red bands are only used by postmen, to hold the letters together. Lord knows where he got it from, but he ate it and it passed right through. Didn't upset me - made me laugh as much as a woman bent over a litter tray can. Didn't seem appropriate for the happy thread though ;)