Had a great weekend with the boys. I was flying high after my success last week, have had my last “big chemo” and so whilst that meant I was my usual groggy tried self we had lots of family time and cuddles. Played some board games and read stories, topped off with the now essential Sunday roast. (This week made extra special by an amazing chocolate dessert prepared and delivered to my doorstep by my niece )!
Then role on Sunday night boys were tucked up in bed safely and S asked me to check what he had entered for us all for the census, just in case he had incorrectly entered one of our names or said we were Jedi masters or something! So those of you who completed it will know for adults there is a few questions about health. I never really thought about these last time (it was 10 years ago we newly moved in and childless it all felt very grown up then!)
So when it came to checking the health bits about me I was greeted by a description of my general health: poor. Not only that, but then questions followed about whether I have any conditions/diagnosis and if they affect my day to day activities.
Each one felt like a sucker punch. I can’t quite describe why. It wasn’t a lie, it’s an accurate description of what my health currently is at this particular date in time. It’s only a statistics gathering exercise it shouldn’t mean anything and yet it really upset me.
Still we carry on and I’m pleased I can crack on with work and make the most of the last week before the Easter holidays! Cue mum guilt showing up 
The last couple of days both boys have been more subdued around me and have been treating me with careful cuddles etc. It came to a bit of a head this evening when my eldest (6.5 years) confessed he’s been sad at school as he is getting worried that I won’t get better. My youngest is nearly 4 and he doesn’t quite understand but he chipped in that he just wished I didn’t have cancer and it makes him sad.
It took all my strength to not cry and remain calm as I talked to them both and explained again what was happening. We’ve been open and honest with them throughout but they are so young and it’s difficult to understand, especially something like chemotherapy which is medicine but to them just seems to be making me worse! We read the fantastic book “mummy’s lump” again (would recommend to anyone with children who have breast cancer it’s brilliant) and they asked a few questions about what happens next.
They are so strong and supportive, they wanted to help me upstairs as I was tired for story time. They seemed satisfied with our chat this evening but once they went to bed I couldn’t help but have a little cry. I feel so guilty that their little lives are being affected by my bad luck. I just want to be their mum again. I know I will and hopefully this part of their lives will be a distant memory eventually, but days like this are tough.
Still they are why I fight and what keeps me going, so I can’t take away the guilt but I will endeavour to keep smiling!
Take care all xx
