There are two parts to post-chemo treatment. The part you are on your arse at 20:30 pm and crawling on your hands and knees to bed – begging for sleep to immerse you in it’s silence and pain-free space. Then there’s this part. It’s 00:19 am and I am wide awake. Now this may be because my sister and her niece came round tonight. She arrived with gifts, a Nik Kershaw scarf, Culture Club wrist bands, and an 80’s CD. Now this was thoughtful. I was feeling good so we had food and a few drinks together, social distancing and masks worn when appropriate. My kids were all in too and my husband – poor bugger – managed to escape the night and was going out to see his friend. So a bit of a break for us both. He hates the 80’s so this worked out well. My son is very similar to me with his music likes and I was surprised at how many of the songs he knew. Fair play fella! We sat outside until until the last moments of the day hurried to bed. I really try and squeeze the last drops out of the summer and being outside.
I can’t dance for shit. I think I can – there is a difference – so I am briefly transported back to a place in my mind when I am 13-14 years of age (same age as my youngest now) and cancer does not exist. Just bad perms and bad make up. It’s lovely to be having a night off and to be free and silly and not give a shit about what I look or feel like. I am dancing around the place in a cancer cap and not one person in the room is the slightest bit bothered by it. My sister has some moves – I’ll give her that. I’m taken aback about how similar she is to her 20 year old daughter. I haven’t seen them in the same space for months – but I am observing their connection as they dance together. Nice to have a peek into their world. They are a little family. A unit of two – and they have had to make it work despite a whole load of difficult stuff. I admire her greatly right now and what she has had to work through to get the life she has now.