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Wednesday 3 July 2013
It has been a rough week here. You guess that the news is not good when your oncologist is in tears but it is worse that "not good". The cancer is terminal. That I have known for some 13 weeks now. Two years without any treatment, four years with chemotherapy.
Except that didn't work out the way it was planned.
It appears that the chemo has accelerated the cancer, rather than killing it, which is a bit of a bugger really. So now the prognosis is 6 months to a year.
I wanted to tell everyone myself by phone or by seeing them in person but it is really not possible. We have told the immediate family, a few very close, need-to-know-because-of-children-logistics friends and the darling bank manager, along with the intraweb family I work so closely with every day.
Yes, it sucks.
I am sure I will write more and pour my heart out over the next few weeks but, for now, I am just grateful to wake up in the morning. I am not looking back thinking about stuff that has already happened and is unchangeable. Nor am I looking beyond tomorrow. I am just living each moment as it comes.
(For the record, I just want to be quietly at home and have absolutely no desire to bungee jump or go on holiday or See Naples and Die.)
I am greatly relieved to be off all medication and shall stay that way for as long as I can. My brief brush with morphine showed me that I am not a happy-on-drugs bunny. As the cancer progresses, I am bound to need more fuzzy stuff and will probably be quite looney tunes. I am therefore "putting things in place" for the farm and will carry on with my advocacy work for as long as possible before the loopiness sets in.
The weird thing is that I don't feel sorry for myself at all and I am not enjoying my moment in the limelight. My sorrow is for HWISO and the girls. They are such bright big stars in my firmament and I hate to cause them any sort of pain. They don't deserve it. I am lucky to have good friends and family to step into my breach and help filling the gap but it doesn't change the fact that this a really buggering bugger, especially for them.
Two amusing moments: telling my big brother on the phone.
"I'm so glad Mum's not alive", I said
"Yes, because this would have killed her", he said.
Gales of gallow's humour laughter down the phone.
I am becoming physically weaker and unable to do the odd normal thing (although I can still cut my own toe nails - such a relief). HWISO and Em were out over Saturday lunchtime so I put on my new Du Barry's to walk the dogs. I then couldn't get them off. Saturday was hot and humid and my feet were overheating so I was contemplating standing in a bucket of iced water and kept trying to direct cool air down my boots. The dogs were expectantly eyeing me, thinking there might be a chance of another walk, as I still had my boots on. Trouble kept brining me his ball, running to the gate and looking at me with a mixture of anticipation and longing. It's SO annoying that dogs don't speak human and that I am no Dr Dolittle.
The terrible twosome returned to find me lying on the kitchen floor, proffering my feet to them, jabbering incomprehensibly about loving them SO much but would love them more if they could just take my boots off.
Last, but not least, there are few moments when you can get away with the darn right cheesy sentiment. This is one of them.