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Last night Elliot nabbed one of my sleeping pills to try to ensure a good night’s sleep. Suffice to say, it didn’t work as our darling roguish little boy came in at 5.45 a.m. Worse, Elliot was left with a sleeping pill hangover which he didn’t enjoy. This prompted much laughter on my part as the after effects of sleeping pills really are the tip of the iceberg for me. He jokingly accused me of being a pill pusher. This in turn reminded me of the funny online conversations I have been having in recent days with my “gang” on the young ladies’ cancer circuit AKA the Seven Bitches. (I’ve never been in a gang before. It’s quite exciting. Except that we are brought together by breast cancer, which is pretty crappy.) The girls have been sending me their thoughts on pain relief as I’ve been having quite a lot of ouchiness this week (eek – language – you can tell I’m a Mum, can’t you?!). Many minutes, if not hours, of online chat this week has been devoted to the merits of various forms of prescription pain relief. We all ended up sounding like a group of druggies. It would be funny, if it weren’t just a little bit sad.