At last, I feel normal again, 13 days after my first cycle. I have had such a lovely day; my friend and sister came to visit and we had a really normal, relaxing day together. Lunch was nachos and chicken, although it all tasted like it was wrapped in old copper! It was so lovely to feel well again, to laugh and gossip, to catch up and look to the future. I have a week until I go for my next cycle and no matter what it brings, I can't wait. I am assured that my body will get used to this, that the shock will be less traumatic and easier to get over, but even if it is the same, it will be worth it. This cancer has to die for me to live, it must suffer for me to thrive and if I have to suffer a little too, then so be it. I see the oncologist on Friday and am wary of reliving the sorry tale of my first cycle, for fear that she will reduce the dose, or spread out the cycles. I dread any reluctance to hit this with all they have, to tread with care. This is not a time to walk on egg shells, to wrap me in cotton wool; I will recover, but they need to hit me hard to ensure that the cancer does not!
