I am writing this after one of the hardest days of my life.
It is breakfast time and I am eating while I feel able. The boys are wandering around my feet scoffing pain au chocolat, in their world all is well.
Yesterday I sat in a clinical white office with all the trappings of sick people and hospital in evidence and learnt the news that the Bastard had spread. It is in my bones. My pelvis to be precise. But probably also hiding away somewhere else but just not present on any scans yet. Sneaky fucker.
My consultant was fair, he was honest but would not be drawn on how long and tiptoed around the terminal word. I know enough to know I now have secondary cancer and that that is pretty much goodnight s#ayonara. He knows I know that too. They are offering me life extending treatment. More chemotherapy then radiotherapy then review the situation. Great. Super. More of what is making me really ill then. They talk about managing my side effects but by now I am already not there. I am already skipping ahead to the inevitable...the dying. I say 'I don't want to die' they pause and offer us some time alone. My head is throbbing with the enormity of this.
A and and I cry. Again. Getting used to this. Crying is a permanent side effect of cancer. It hurts just as much as the physical pain. It hurts I am sure you don't need me to tell you, deep inside.
Leaving the hospital we find a parking ticket on the car. Out stayed our welcome, life continues unabated. Never mind if Newcastle City Council cannot find it in their hearts to revoke this ticket then I will know that red tape surely has taken over where common sense should prevail.
Returning home I look at everything with a different intensity, I soak it up, how long will I be able to do this? How long will I feel the sun on my skin? How long will I feel the breeze? It is true when people say it puts things into a much sharper focus.
My friend is waiting and she knows as soon as she sees my face. We hug. We talk. She leaves, returning to her family but knowing that she has made this week, this awful week easier to bear.
I ring my insurer about my life insurance. I took it out on a whim just after I gave birth to Little Miss H. Such a happy time. They tell me they will pay out when they receive the news that I have less one year to live. I must press my consultant. This money will buy them a home, a home that they can live in for as long as they want. It will protect them, my family, provide them a sanctuary. And then when they no longer need it, it will provide a start in life for them and a boat for A. Our boat. I tell him he must take me with him and show me all the sights we would have seen together had things been different.
The children return individually and we tell T. He is devastated. I hug him tight and promise him I will always be him and I didn't want to leave him. Ever. The plan had been not to tell Little Miss Hunter but she knows. She is so clever. She asks why I am crying, why T is crying. I hug her tight and tell her that I am so sorry but I will have to leave her. Not now but soon. I can honestly say there is no worse torture I am sure than breaking your children's hearts. I cannot believe that I will leave my beautiful children before their childhood journey is over. They need me. They need their mother. And I need them. I need them and love them with an intensity I never knew I had inside. I need to fight the Bastard for as long as I can, I desperately want the boys to know who I was. To have real memories of me, not have to listen to others tell them about me. I nurtured these boys, gave them my all. I want them to know me. One of the greatest journeys, the opportunity to see twins grow up and I won't get to finish it.
I will be just a chapter in my children's lives, they will have new one chapters, my part in their story is coming to a close. I start the acceptance process now that I am dying. I will die and must prepare.
We spent the rest of the day telling people either in person or on the phone or via social media (such a powerful tool) and dealing with messages of love and sadness at our news. I love them all and am so sorry to be telling them this.
I have been sleeping downstairs as the side effects have made me restless and ill but I felt better than I have for a while and I wanted to sleep in our bed. Next to my amazing, wonderful husband and listen to the boys sleeping. Be there when they wake. I need to take these opportunities when I can now.
I must go the boys want to play. They demand normality.
Today we plan to carry on. Do the shopping. Play. Eat. Live.
Today is after all the beginning of the rest of my life.
Speak soon
