is looming out of the fog, like a giant tree in mist. Chemo again. It has been so long somehow that I have almost forgotten the state of unreality it puts me into. The sixth treatment out of eight. Strange how so many people that I have 'met' have told me that chemo passes amazingly quickly but actually, you know what? I am not going to give in to the remorseless cheer and agree but tell you the truth. Chemo stinks and those days that I am ill crawl by. I hate it, hate the sickness, hate the extra saliva that pours into my mouth and hate the way that just thinking about it starts the churning in my stomach.
With only three more to go, my mind, like an eager pony, is yearning after the surgery, wondering where, when and how it will happen, and the logical part of me is restraining it, holding it back, refocussing it on the one hurdle ahead, rather than the end of the race. To be honest, a lot of this is because I am afraid that if I look at the road ahead, the end of chemo, the surgery, the radiotherapy and then the hormone therapy, I will just pick up that great big white towel and throw it into the ring. There is still so much to happen, to deal with, and I don't know if I have the stamina to deal with it all - I have to bite it off in chunks and allow one part to digest before looking at the menu for the month...
And it doesn't help with the blogs I have read. Yes, I have read so many inspirational blogs on cancer, and many are on my blogroll. But there aren't many/any of women who have been through breast cancer, survived and moved on with their lives. This week alone, I have read two blogs of women,here and here, initially diagnosed with the same as me, lymph nodes and all, who are now dead. Their blogs are incredibly inspirational and moving but I don't know if I can deal with the idea that like them, who fought just as bravely if not more than I am trying to, it still got them in the end. I seemed to start off so postitively believing my doctors who told me it wasn't about palliative care, but about curing me, and now? Now, I hover in self doubt, my feet are weighed by the mud of care, and I see no clear path through the dense trees before me. I keep thinking about how those women probably thought it would never happen to them either. Is it better to be prepared and ready for death or is it better to be indisputably positive and deny its possibility? I really don't know, I can only keep asking the questions.
But I do know one thing - I do know that I want this blog, this series of intimate thoughts to stand for me, to act as help for future women who are temporarily hijacked by this disease, and when, not if, when I do come through, when these days are but memories, I hope that this blog will stand as a lamp in the forest, a flickering candle to those going through this same process.