Hello everyone,
This week we should have been on our family holiday. In our little touring caravan meant for four but with six. We went to Scarborough last year and really loved it. I have many fond memories of holidays in my grandparents touring caravan from my childhood. Caravans for both A and I are emotionally linked with our past and now hopefully our children's as we seek to imbue the same love in them. Glad to say they do. However we are not going, we cannot as I have to attend my chemotherapy. I am quite sad about this. Cancer is ruining everything, it casts a long shadow, sitting on my shoulder. It lately feels like it keeps prodding me saying 'did you forget about me?'. No cancer. I didn't. I can't.
Instead my father came and collected Master T and Little Miss H on Thursday and took them away to a static caravan at the seaside. The North Yorkshire coast. They will love it. I am glad that they will get some time away from this house, I am sure that the head space will do them both good. Little Miss H has been a little difficult of late, we cannot decide if this is an age related phase or linked with my illness.
On the positive side we have been kindly donated a week in a caravan locally, this week will be my week off and hopefully I will be at my best. It will be nice to just be a family, for just a little while, and hide away from the paraphernalia of illness. Of cancer. Though of course the Bastard will be with us. I have no choice, both physically and mentally, I carry it everywhere.
The twins have been full on for the past few days, they have been typical toddlers, into everything and anything. It is nice to have them around, they are unaffected by my illness and they ensure that I keep grounded. I was looking after them alone for an hour the other day while A went and had a tattoo. His tattoos are a release for him so this is his second since my diagnosis. The boys and I watched TV and had cuddles. I just suddenly burst into tears while cuddling O, he sat there snuggled in and suddenly I felt the weight of my disease come crashing back in. I was inconsolable, I so want them to know who I am before I pass away. I must have cried on and off for about an hour just hugging that little boy so close. It keeps catching me like this, I read something or see something and I just dissolve.
I have tried to forgo the steroids this week too but am disappointed by just how much I clearly do need them. The fatigue lasted longer than it has before running on until Friday, I gave in and took a steroid Friday and Saturday but managed to go without today (Sunday). Today was better, I have carried out small household tasks without being too tired and we also took the twins shopping. Friday we collected my long wig, which looks fabulous and sorted out the disability paperwork. Whilst currently I feel quite well, my fatigue is unpredictable and who knows what might happen next week? One thing I am learning about cancer is it follows it's own rules. Later that night I was invited to a meal out to celebrate some friends birthdays, it was lovely, nice to spend time with them and the food was very good too. Saturday I wanted to go out with A and the twins on our bikes, so the steroid was a must. I managed it, slowly but I managed it, this is most exercise I have done in weeks. Prior to my diagnosis I used to walk all over and was reasonably fit. This therefore is a small victory. I celebrated with chocolate.
As I thought I have found these last few days waiting for the scan results hard going emotionally. I am sure the cancer will be picked up somewhere else. I am not so certain that is has shrunk either. I am in less pain so something must have happened but I have noticed a numbness to my jaw. Actually, I had this daily before I was diagnosed and only the other day I realised that since my chemotherapy this numbness has improved. This does not bode well. Never mind, tomorrow is D-Day. I will find out one way or another and we will carry on. It is all we can do and hope. Hope that maybe I will be one of the lucky ones. Shrink you Bastard, shrink.
I am certain that if I ever make it to one of the golden 7% that I have been changed for life, my outlook has already changed and I am far more thoughtful and tolerant than ever before. I never assume now when I look at someone. You just never know what is going on behind the exterior of a person's face. You certainly wouldn't know I had terminal cancer to look at me currently. But I do.
Take care, wish me luck and I will blog the results, I am off to sort out my beloved cloth nappies....
xxx
