Thursday, 26 May 2016

Roller coaster of love.

It's 6am and I'm wide awake and the kids are fast asleep. I've nothing but the curry farts from last night to keep me company as I sit here on a 'milestone day' thinking about what the hell has happened to me in the last 9 months. 

On Friday 11th September, a day we all remember the horrible atrocities that unfolded in New York in 2001, I got the news that I was carrying around a disease that could well kill me as quickly as a years time and my best shot at treatment was to terminate my unborn baby. 
I then went on to forgo the treatment so I could give my baby the best shot I could. 

Why did I do this? 

Because I loved that baby as much as my two boys. I couldn't separate the feelings I had for the boys  from the feelings I had for Chocolate Mousse  ( you'll maybe remember this is the nick name Noah gave my bump ) so I couldn't do it. I then entered my 'Roller-coaster life'. So within the time that followed....

I had a type of chemo safe for baby -up
the news we were expecting a girl -up
a realisation that chemo wasn't working - down 
an incredible prognosis of 95% for Chocolate Mousse at 28 weeks - up
a prognosis of death for me if I went on any longer - down
a decision to have baby at 28+1 with an assumption that with the balance of nature she would definitely be fine - half way up
the fear on the day she was born if I was doing the right thing - down
the elation that it was the right choice when she was born so strong and the immense love we have for her just pouring all over everything - up really high
the phone call we received to say she was not well - crashing down
the fear of what would happen to her - so down 
the news she would not recover - through the floor
the knowledge I had done the wrong thing - hell
the pain of watching her passing - beyond labels
the saying goodbye -  
the feeling I wanted to die and the guilt for feeling that way when I had my boys who needed me - down 
the absolute open-mouthed ''''''why????''''' that I asked myself every second - round the bend
the soul searching - flat
the being dragged out of bed to start the treatment Ally had been born early for me to have and the guilt I felt having that drug - down
the news that it would seem my cancer had spread to my lungs - down
the renewed feeling of needing to be here for Noah, Tait and Scouse - up
Ally's funeral and watching the man I love carry a coffin the size of a shoe box into Church - floor, core of the earth, Australia, then space
the start of a new year and watching everyone else move on around you - down
the treatment appearing to work - up
the news I could have a mastectomy - up 
a bucket list to compete with my kids - up
two prestigious award nominations for my blog - up (last day to vote here: WillyWeeHole
an increasing feeling that I will see Ally again one day - up
the immense kindness of strangers and the absolute love for my friends and family who have given me so much that I can't put into words how it makes me feel - up 
and today my last chemotherapy - up

What a fucking 9 months I've had. 

Today, Thursday's 26th May, I have my last chemotherapy. It's my last chemotherapy for now and hopefully forever. It's a milestone. One last time of crapping our everything I eat and yet not loosing weight. One last time of everything I eat tasting like soil and metal, one last time of having days where I feel I've been sat on by a bear. One last time. 

On Tuesday the 5th July I am having my boobs bambozzled. Their days are numbered or at least one of their days are numbered. 
How do I feel about this? Quite frankly I couldn't give a shit. Bye bye boobs!!! 

So I'm just about to head up to be hooked up to 'Calvin the Chemo Machine' and I might do one of those 'last chemo pictures' for you but can I just point out that no fucker has made me a poster!!!! So if anyone wants to make one for me feel free to post on the Facebook page and I'll tweet it. 

I'm also going to try and write another post today with a slightly more uplifting tone so you're not all crying into your morning coffee. Actually it's now afternoon because I was typing two posts at the same time and I'm sending them both to you today. So hopefully it's evening beer you're drinking. 

Thanks for sticking with me X 

3 comments:

  1. Words fail you are an amazing person xx

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  2. Let's hope for much more up up up!!

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  3. It's 7 a.m. Here in Arkansas, so I may wait an hour to have that celebratory beer Heidi. But so glad that today is the last chemo. It sounds like torture. I did enjoy the Guffalo story, and I did vote, so more reasons to celebrate. Cheers!

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