I came home yesterday, not really sure I wanted to but I did all at the same time.
Coming home meant I really had to accept my lot, I had to continue my life but as a cancer patient.
Coming home meant we had to tell the children.
How do you tell your children something like this?
Our beautiful children. I am going to break their hearts.
I wish I didn't have to do it.
Within minutes of being home the boys insisted on a breastfeed, I love feeding them and I know that I have to stop. Chemo and breastfeeding do not mix. This is so not how I envisaged weaning them, I wanted a gentle approach that the boys initiated. Yet another wonderful thing that cancer has robbed me of. The Bastard.
That is what I call it, The Bastard. The Bastard within.
We decided to tell this children this morning after hopefully a restful nights sleep. I did sleep reasonably well. This is largely thanks to the wonderful powers of morphine.
Sitting together in the lounge after a leisurely breakfast we told them. I. Made. Them. Cry.
I reassured them that it is not catching, it is nothing they have done or could have done. I told them I want them to come and cuddle me and touch me lots. Even when I am very ill in bed and cannot face the day. I had to tell them that there is the possibility I might not make it. I had to tell MY children that I might not be there for them in the future. Excuse my language but FUCK. How fucking horrible. The worst day of my life, hopefully from now on I will give them good news.
I will finish by telling you that the district nurse visited too. She came with her treatment plan folder. Her emergency numbers that we can ring even in the dark hours, when I need medication to stop a side effect. She was lovely and I am glad that we have been provided with this service.
Our NHS is wonderful, I am so lucky to have it.
Please David Cameron. Please. Leave. It. Alone.
Goodbye for now, chemo starts Thursday, I will let you know how it goes
