Post 48: Unsure certainty.
The life we travellers lead gets all messed up when we’re waiting for tests and results.
All our hardwired defences unravel, and our soft bits are laid bare.
We become nervous and scared again—just like the last time.
The outpouring of support for Millibob lately has been heartening.
Good luck, Brian.
It reminded me of that strange, unbalancing period that comes before everything changes—when you’re waiting to have a conversation with an expert about an otherwise invisible force inside you.
It’s not even the details of that conversation that stick with me.
It’s the lead-up.
The uncertainty.
The looming choices we might have to face.
I’ve been through three major waits now.
They don’t get any easier.
In fact, they get harder—because the further down this road you go, the fewer forks there seem to be.
Still, we keep striding forward, purposefully, surrounded by the support that lifts us each step of the way.
But while you’re waiting for the next set of directions… it’s debilitating.
In my case, I’m over the wait now and back to striding forward.
But I don’t feel as strong as I did.
The changes inside me—and the cruel side effects of treatment—are sapping that strength.
And now, the reality of my situation is that the medication is becoming ever more complicated and compromised.
My heart and the cancer are not easy bedfellows.
This leads to headaches, literally and metaphorically, about what should take priority.
When I was my Mum’s main carer, I used to take her to all manner of clinics:
The heart clinic after her attack… geriatric medicine… cancer three times in three different places… IBS, osteoporosis, the full suite of pills and therapies.
It was complex.
I see that now more clearly than ever.
It’s only now, being in the patient’s seat myself, that I truly understand just how hard it is to treat a human body dealing with more than one issue.
So why do I keep stating the bleeding obvious, circling back to these same thoughts in a loop?
Simple: I’m not sure of my route.
I can’t tell which part of me should take priority.
The real answer?
All of me matters.
My mind, my heart, my body—they all feel like they’re trying to be the boss.
But then… there’s the cancer.
And cancer doesn’t like to be second in command.
I’m struggling with these thoughts, like so many others.
I haven’t landed on any clear decisions—but I’ve committed to staying positive.
We have to stay strong.
We have to stay together.
That’s how we get through this.
Today’s been restful.
I’ve been treated to all my meals in bed—graciously provided by my powerhouse and co-navigator, My Darling.
My mind’s in neutral, waiting for tomorrow’s calls and emails.
That’s why this is a shorter, more reflective post.
Yes, I’m nervous.
But I still have the strength to support others.
And I thank everyone who helps us navigate this journey.
Because we’re all living—and we need to remind ourselves of that.
It’s easy to forget that today is always a good day.
But only you can make it better.
