Well it is a cliche but it is an upsy downsy ride post diagnosis, which I guess is why I have not posted for a while. A very hopeless beginning to my blog ...
Anyway the story so far....I have had crying fits, dancing in the kitchen fits, random desires to go up to strangers and tell them 'what a great job they are doing at being human, and to make the most of it' fits,a poor guy for example, strumming a guitar in town while I was on my way to The local Cancer Centre, nearly became my random pray, but my sensible, in touch with the world and not wanting to look too mad self, surpressed those urges. Was this the right thing to do? should I turn my blog into one of those adventure books, we used to read as children where you choose an outcome and go to a page number to see what the result of that choice is.....How awesome would that be, perhaps he and I would have become friends, we would have shared some truths,.. I stupidly chose a sensible walk to the cancer centre and then over the threshold...... an adventure in itself it seems as when I got there I broke down (again)...another realisation of making this diagnosis fact and not just some hideous nightmare. i was hugged and told I would be looked after... The ladies there know my daughter from a class visit they made, my 8 year old girl has met these very fine good samaritans, who have offered to take care of us both for no price, massages, reflexology, counselling, all at our disposal. I was so humble and will do all that i can to give something back. Pickering Cancer Centre...Fund raise if you can too.
So.....I had opened another supportive door on this journey. a journey that on some days feels distant and on others feels suffocatingly close. Today was a distant day, the wine probably helped, my supportive male friend who rescues me took me away for a meal on valentines day, we wandered around our favourite town of Rye, it was a lovely day. yesterday however, he found me in tears, mourning my shortened existence after reading my copy of my oncologists letter to my doctors surgery while filling in a form for the cancer centre. It had the words, Treatment: Palliative Chemotherapy......Palliative....I will be having palliative treatment, I am at the end of my life but I don't know when it is going to be...really? Palliative? now? I was mourning the lost time with my daughter, of not being able to see her grow up having spent most of my life dreaming of having her. That is some shit and possibly the hardest part of secondary breast cancer and which dictates the need for support from others in the same boat. I am now, at this moment, on the holiday, the calm before the storm. My treatment (Paclitaxol) begins on the 1st of march, I can't have some chemo or radiotherapy because I had it as a child (my life dose), so I am just keeping fingers crossed that the ones I can have can help me, I have also turned to frankinsense oil, cannibinoid oil, weird green algae powder, weird purple powder, pommegranite juice, anything frankly that offers some natural hope amidst the drug cocktails I am about to imbibe. Maaaaan this is not how I planned 2016, I knew it was coming but not quite so soon, but I can't stop it, I can just prepare, look after my future self, mouth ulcers and all. To make the most of my daughter and decent humans, to do what I can for the planet while I am here. To all the amazing folks dealt this unfortunate hand, laugh in it's face and dance around the kitchen, live as hard as you can xx
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