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:
Words fail you are an amazing person xx
Let's hope for much more up up up!!
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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