Hello dear readers.
Since my last post my emotions have settled a little but inevitably I still break down on occasion. I cannot help it. Often this is when I am faced with the stark reality of my disease, this cancer. This is when the Macmillan nurse comes or the district nurse or the health visitor. All these people want to help me, they are sad for me. I get that. I do. But I don't want them here. I don't like what they represent but accept them I must. Wasting time wallowing won't help.
I agreed to a newspaper article a couple of weeks ago following the burglary in the vain hope of getting my wedding rings back. Unfortunately no joy, if I am honest I knew that, it will have been melted down by now I am just sad that it represented almost 20 years of marriage and I could not pass it on to little miss H. However, we have just agreed to another article as my diagnosis has changed. It was a little sensationalist for my liking but it raised awareness for my cancer. Bladder cancer. I never knew it existed. It is not 'glamorous', it is poorly funded yet costs the NHS the most to treat. This I will remedy. So we used our devastation to raise awareness. A good thing done.
Being a multiple mum I have been privileged to be part of a unique caring community. You can be sure any multiple parent knows what you are going through precisely, they have all been there at some point. I am not saying it is not difficult to raise a singleton, it is, I have been there too. But raising multiples is uniquely trying at times. They heard of my situation through the many support groups I am a member of on Facebook and were immediately asking how they could help. They ran a raffle for us in a group and have raised a huge amount of cash which will be donated us. Both A and I were close to tears at the kindness of strangers.
We have also been inundated with offers for other gifts, beautiful photo shoots, memorial bears made from my clothes and a pendant with my handprint on for little miss H as a gift for when I am gone for a special birthday. All of things will form part of my legacy for my family and will be magical and treasured for years to come.
I have agonised over whether to talk about this or not. It feels wrong to talk about it but equally to not recognise what others have done for us feels wrong. So I have decided I need to talk about it, I am after all 'a good truth teller'. So we thank you, each and every one of you from the bottom of our hearts. This means so much to us, it means that if the car breaks down we can fix it, if we need to pay a bill when money is tight, we can pay it. If when my chemotherapy is finished and I can travel we can take the kids away to enjoy making some vital memories. You have given us hope and kindness beyond anything we ever thought possible and I will never believe anything other than the majority of humankind is caring and empathetic for as long as I live.
My dad also returned this week from America, when he went I had a chance, I had to tell him fresh off the plane that I now don't. My disease in incurable. He was speechless and I think beside himself. I hate breaking peoples hearts in this way. It is horrendous.
Each day has been passing quicker than I want it to, I want to hold on to time. I want it to slow. I want to savour each minute with my children. I hug them lots and kiss them endlessly. I check in on them every night and kiss them again. Time is short. Grab it with both hands.
I went for Chemotherapy today as well, if you have been following my blog you will know how awful this has been for me, the nausea is hell and the pain and discomfort following is dreadful. I forced myself to walk over that threshold today. Physically dragged myself up the stairs. I waited ages as they had a delay and when I finally sat down, I was in such a state I was starting to cry already. The nurse efficiently sited the needle first time this week but none of the instructions that I had discussed at my last consultant meeting had been put on the file. I was deflated and demoralised even more. I broke down. They took my blood and moved me into a side room. They could see how hard it was for me to be there. I hate myself for breaking down but I cannot help it, I hate and loath the chemotherapy as it makes me so ill but I know within it also lies my only hope for salvation. Unfortunately though as fired up as I was to push my way through this my white blood cell count let me down, so a stay of execution, no chemotherapy today.
I have been busy researching my cancer and other metastatic cancers on the internet, I am determined not to give in to this Bastard. I know my chances are slim, in fact I looked at statistics, the statistics my consultant did not want to talk about. I know why now. But I am banking on being one of the 11%. I am scoffing any amount of cancer busting foods and drinking green tea even though I hate tea and am also cutting out the sugary snacks. People do beat it or at least live with it for a while. So whilst slim, where there is life there is hope.
So in sum, people are good, trust to strangers, time is short, blood counts are fickle and never give up hope. Ever.
Speak soon.
