I remembered my appointment this afternoon - huzzah! I am officially calling Wednesday a success as a result.
Unfortunately, I still feel like I've got a truck on my chest and it started to concern me that being ill might delay radiotherapy or prevent me from working through it. People keep telling me I should be at home resting but I'm not that ill. I've got a run of the mill icky thing, not a terrible disease. OK I do have a disease but that's not what's making me feel ill and as it turns out, I'm not even that cancer filled at the moment so why give in and stay at home?
I've been told today that I'm going to find it harder to fight infections etc. because my immunity has been compromised. The way they go on, anyone would think I was a fortress that the enemy B Cells have been trying to invade and they've just realised those super secure gates they've installed, were left open by mistake! I've been invaded. Cheerful. Not true though. My body, for whatever reason has decided to do this to itself. You'd think it would be a bit more intelligent and try to keep us alive. Maybe it's not survival of the fitest, it's survival of the most intelligent and I'm not likely to win prizes in that field.
People again have been telling me that I'm going through a lot and that I need to take it easy, but am I? Maybe this 'situational adjustment' therapy IS a good idea because I don't appear to be able to make my mind up on that one and there isn't anyone I can really ask because I won't know which opinion to agree with. There are people in so many other and more distressing situations, and I have no desire to feel sorry for myself because I have a very blessed life. If only there was a button to press to switch off unhelpful thoughts.
I got the letter of diagnosis from my haematologist today which was both reassuring and worrying. I've got the best possible diagnosis of only stage 1A with 4 tumours grouped together and another suspected 2 elsewhere but not confirmed - I really have won the cancer lottery it seems and this is absolutely splendid but the message afterwards is predictably less assured and less of a silver lining. I'm at risk of relapse and with him not being able to convince himself of the 2 lumps under the freckle, he'll not rule out systemic chemotherapy in the future.
The words 'She is fully aware that this is a localised disease at the moment.' are of course to cover themselves and I was under no illusion that they can't guarantee I'll not get this back but I know I'll see my lovely haematologist regularly so I should try not to be afraid.
I'll not lie though. I am. If I wasn't afraid it wouldn't be on my mind and I wouldn't feel the need to constantly write down what's happening.
I'm not afraid in the way I was when I first found out. It's not fear in a way that I expect anything to happen soon or that I am convincing myself of any immediate danger that simply isn't there. It's merely the unhelpful reminder of the mortality of myself and the people I love. Sometimes I wish I grew up in a society that wasn't so fearful of death. We all know it's coming but finding you have a disease, any disease, gives you a reminder that none of us are here forever. Other people will leave me behind and one day I'll do the same to them. It's the order of things. It's not like I've never been left behind. I've lost people I love and it's horrible but things do carry on. When I go, I know that the world won't have changed and maybe I won't have made much of an impact in the grand scheme of things. Most of us don't. We make an impact on the people who love us though and that should be enough.
Cancer isn't unique in the change to your life it brings and in some ways I suppose it's more desirable and than a degenerative disease that is guaranteed to stay and to only get worse. I am lucky. I just wonder how this could all happen? I know I'm feeling sorry for myself and I apologise for that. I know I should be doing cartwheels and thanking all the gods, scientists, aliens and fairies for letting me get the best news but I think I still haven't quite made it. I feel like my whole life has shifted and it's only been 3 months. How the hell has it only been 3 months? I've been engaged a mere 8 and a half weeks and the whole thing has been overshadowed by this news that I was growing the enemy.
If you'd have asked me in the run up to our engagement what this summer would have looked like I'd have told you planning and shopping and making wonderful, pointless tat to inflict on my loved ones. I guess next summer will instead. I want to enjoy the excitement. I've been with Hairypants for 5 years and I love him so much I often think if I could hug him so tight that I could curl up in his tummy to be that little bit closer to him that I would. He put so much thought into asking me to marry him. He'd planned it for over a year and instead of countlessly recounting our engagement story, I find myself instead telling people I've got some completely innocent looking lumps that appear to be multiplying and making my arms look a little like the Alps. I'm expecting Julie Andrews to come running over any minute singing 'the hills are alive'.
Anyway tomorrow I'm off to see a friend of mine who I've not seen for many moons. By then I'll have composed myself and stopped feeling so pointlessly sorry for myself. Things really aren't that bad Lottie, get yourself a grip!
