At least I slept. Zopiclone helped and I wake up feeling like I have rested. Inside I feel raw. The edges of my skin are burning, tingling with the effects of the treatment. Familiar. So I get up and get on with it.
We are having work done on our house, so the decorator arrives and forces us in to some order. This has been going on for weeks inside and outside of the house and nothing is where it should be. Plants, rugs, sofas, shelves – not in their rightful place as new skirting boards sit waiting to be painted. It’s all coming together – you can see that now – but I crave something in my life to be in order. To be still, looking neat and tidy.
Nothing in my body or mind is in any sensible or organized order. Today after 7 rounds of chemotherapy, I feel shrunken, dismantled and faded. Without sustenance. I’m not where I should be either. I should be out running, full of spark and energy. Embracing the day and all that comes with it. Everyday is the same now. I am contained in a whirlwind of the same thinking, the same feeling and the same fears. My head wants to find the joy in the moment – make it last. My body wants to collapse on the floor and stop. I am so scared to actually stop in case I never start again. I look around my home, my village, my community and my world. It is so small. I am so small against the global population, and what is going on around me with the pandemic. The world is going nuts and I don’t want to go with it. Nothing is going to change for a long time with this virus threatening us all and our lives, children and economy. It’s like being stuck in a Tom Cruise film. Except it is real life and what I am going through, sadly, is real life. We are all at risk of getting cancer. You know the stats. They are frightening. I wish I could be the last person to go through chemo. I wish breast cancer had not entered our world and robbed us of so much life and joy.
It is a constant challenge to work with this. To work with living the best life I can each day, and to not get tired, totally and utterly pissed off at the world that I am here, on a Saturday night, in bed again.
My best friend’s daughter is 9 today. My welsh best friends daughter is 18 too. Parties going on (in lock down in Blackpool) and I should be at one of them. To be fair neither are how they should be thanks to the constraints of COVID, so both of these birthday queens aren’t getting the party they should be be having.
I still wish I could have gone to either. Both!?
HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRLS X X X X X