Monday 8th December

(Posted on Tuesday 9th – thanks, Eskom!)

Today was always going to be a horrible day: the handing over of 55 was booked for 2:30. Nothing could come close to matching that for pain and upset. Well, nothing right now. There is plenty that could, in fact, there has been plenty this year that already has. This was the final moment, though.

Today is also one week from the next chemo – to which I am really not looking forward. (Not that I looked forward to either of the other treatments so far, but they weren’t as bad as this – at least, the anticipation was not.) It just feels too, too soon. I haven’t really got over the last treatment, or so it seems. I am still nauseous on-and-off, but at least not terribly so all the time. It’s enough to remind me of what’s to come, though, which is really off-putting. Then my left arm is really sore because my vein has thrombosed. So now I feel as though I can’t use either arm properly.

I have found myself saying, quite a few times in the last day, “I hate this frigging chemo!” Well, to myself at least.

Truth is, I don’t really hate it. It’s just really horrible to have to deal with the consequences and to know that they will most probably last longer next time. It’s also not so nice to see how everyone is worried about me. They have enough to deal with, Mum’s health should not be on top of all that.

It is really good, though, to think that I am just about half way.

Either people have got the message, or they have understood: I have had only a few people tell me that I am over half way because I’ve had the second treatment. That’s not so, because the treatment is only the beginning. I did, in fact, quite pointedly tell someone that only on Sunday evening just before the third treatment will I actually be half way.

It just feels so long.

I even found myself saying that I hate not having any hair.

The whole thing about the hair doesn’t really worry me that much all the time – particularly as I don’t have to see myself all the time. 🙂 When I do, though, it is still quite a surprise at times. It also depends on the mood I’m in. Mostly I don’t worry about covering my head. If everyone else wants to think I look strange, it’s okay. (I do cover up when there is sun involved.)

Then come the moments when I see myself and just think I look weird. Or horrible, depending on the mood and time of day.

Or the day.

Today had it’s own ‘I look terrible’ moments. But then, today was always going to be a bad day.

And yet, despite having to take two cars to various garages, see 55 go out of our lives and then be load-shed for hours in the night, it was actually a good day.

The new owner of 55 is really nice and, strangely and surreally almost, I feel as though we have not completely lost it, but have kind of extended the ’55 family’.

I’m absolutely sure that Mum is up there, pulling the necessary strings. 🙂