Again blog day is pushed to Thursday after Tuesday and Wednesday are just wiped out in a fog of sleep and aches. It’s not pleasant but at least it is consistent so I now know what I can, or more specifically, can’t achieve on those days.
I love that many of you look forward to my ‘blob’ and some even message me to check if I’m ok if it’s late. Apparently, my brother-in-law shouts around the house, Town Crier style: “IT’S OUT!!” upon spotting it on Facebook.
Tuesday was a 12-hour shift as it involved early morning blood tests, a five-hour wait until the consultancy appointment followed by more waiting until the 3-hour chemo session. You know you are a hospital regular when the car parking guys wave you in for the second time that day with a knowing smile and refuse to take any money. I’m going to gift them some beers at the end of this.
I laid out the side effects I’ve been having the last couple of weeks to Dr. Kildare but with only 3 left in this weekly cycle he was reluctant to change anything as my bloods are good so it’s just the body fighting the chemo. The expectation of what chemo would involve and the reality is kicking in.
Unfortunately cancer doesn’t just go away, like flu, in a few days and lingers on and on until I bore myself with this disease dominating my life and those around me. So thank you to those who stick around and offer support.
There are some who go above and beyond. Take my fairy godmother Lynn who was checking flights on hearing my diagnosis to fly over from the UK immediately and care for me, until her daughter pointed out I did actually have my own mum if I needed someone to do that and she just couldn’t turn up all Mary Poppins! But that gut reaction is how she operates and she’s somehow been at my side when the ‘shit has hit the fan’ many times over the years.
I also appreciate how hard it is for my family who are sat thousands of miles away on the edge of their seats waiting for news or for me to ask for help so they can ‘do something’. And as a parent and sibling I totally get how difficult that is and it makes me incredibly sad the anguish they must be going through. Distance is rubbish on many levels.
But this is a solo journey pretty much, aside from hubby, who sees the best and worst of me and manages to prop me up. Of course, Luna is still working away and slightly shielded from the day-to-day whilst Sol has become quite kind and understanding for a stroppy 16-year-old. And he gives the best hugs.
Those who have been through this or similar experiences have been at my side like glue with support and shared messages about their situations. Everyone has their own tales of often silent torment but sometimes someone holding your hand is all it takes.
When I was 13 my best friend at high school dumped me overnight and went off with a new group of girls. I would spend days wandering around at breaktime on my own adrift in a place where everyone already had their established friend groups.
But one boy would seek me out every breaktime and chat with me making sure I wasn’t stood like ‘Billy no mates’ until three girls welcomed me into their clique. Years later Wil Fraser and I would write during his stint in the Gulf War and I like to believe I helped with his incredibly tough time there in much the same way he had unknowingly helped me. People like that remain tucked away in your heart forever because just one selfless, kind gesture is often all it takes.
Talking of expectation v reality. At the beginning of all this, I was talking to a lady going through treatment who had bought several wigs from Amazon. For about €30 (compared to €200-€800! for something made of real hair) you can get something that looks only slightly synthetic and she had a varied set of fab styles for different occasions which she rocked.
So along with the multi pack of stick-on eyebrows that I impulse bought, and not actually needed so far, I picked out a short, blond wig based on the model wearing it because “I wanna look like that with cancer!”
The hairpiece remains in its packet. Because quite frankly I just look like a Girl’s World version of Boris Johnson.
two steps freelance 