finally ...she blogs again

I reckon if youre still checking, you're in for the long haul and you're interested in the finer details of how we're doing. Thank you, thank from the bottom of my heart. I've just re-read and savoured all the recent comments - it's oxgen to me.

Swiss mountains, extraordinary moments, general head spin and pressures of 'normal' life have stopped me blogging till now. Before the scan results I said to friends, I'll be fine as long as they don't say to me 'we've done what we can do, now go home and live with your cancer'. I thought I'll be ok as long as they give me something to do. Although Sarah our Oncologist was at pains to tell me this was a re-grouping time, a time to work on getting fully fit again for the next onslaught of chemo, it felt dangerously like no-man's land.

I feel fantastic. Not sleepy, not unwell and yet all we've done (it would appear) is buy a bit more time. It's not worse (thank God) but it's still flippin' well there! As Sarah said - it won't stay like this, it's cancer, it's in it's nature to grow. Sue said (on holiday) "it's like we're all watching a film that we know is a heartbreaker and someone goes and presses the pause button. Now we all get to sit around and wonder what happens next..."

HOWEVER! As Sue also said (after our fab sisters-that-shop day-out to Thun during our swiss holiday) you're clearly not dying yet! I thank God for the 'pause'.

For Chris and I though the devil is in the detail. How do we justify Chris not working if I'm not that sick? How do we know that we've taken seriously enough my need for rest, a healthy diet, less stress, when I'm a crap patient, a non-existent cook and I'll always choose to talk late into the night with friends if given half the chance? What is Chris' role if I won't let him be 'carer' and he won't be neutral on-looker? What are our individual and combined vocations in the aftermath of this crazy disease? How do we ever judge whether we've done a good day's work? What about our aspirations towards simple living when we're forking out for a cleaner and a childminder once a week (when neither of us are even working!) Why do holidays feel so normal and managable in comparison to the rest of our life just because they have beginnings, middles and ends? I could go on but I think you get the picture. As Lynda said the other day, we all want to do whatever we can to help but some of this stuff it's just down to you guys to solve.

We'll keep working on it and keep you posted. It's not easy but it's also not impossible. I'm incredibly grateful to Chris and when some of the anger that until now hadn't really surfaced, starts to be thrown around and aimed at each other's heads, it helps that our love for each other seems to be stronger in the face of all this.

Havent done any Good Moments/Bad Moments for ages so thought I'd indulge again.

GM: getting stacks of cards for my 39th hardly-significant-birthday, I must be ill as Sue didn't get half as many!
GM: my head feeling soft like a mouse as all the hair grows back
BM: it's a white mouse!
GM: not taking any tablets - at least for a while
GM: more energy for the kids and Kirin learning to clap
BM: trying (over a bottle of wine and a fondu) to work out what I actually believe about Heaven - all the sleeping saints and heavenly bodies stuff
GM: having a hunch deep within that it'll all be ok
GM: SLEDGING! and playing in proper amounts of snow
GM: my sister's peppermint foot lotion
GM: nearly asking the woman in the Cancer Research shop today whether they offer discounts to sufferers (the idea made me laugh even if I lacked the guts)

I could go on, but everyone else in the house has gone to bed. The photos are Sue's Izzy and Sam with me and Asha, on our way to the wood for our treasure trail and of course one of the views out of our window!

what wakes you at 4am?

The answer for once is NOT babies! A troubled mind is probably closer. Too much to think about. Awake at 4am - it's not natural! And for those of you inclined that way, the Bible reading for this Sunday included "Jesus woke a long time before daylight...." Mark 1:35... Great ammunition for the guilt-striken Christian who falls asleep at night with the thought - I'd be so much better at this if I could only rise early to pray!

I however have always managed to quiet that particular inner voice in favour of my duvet.

Blogging at 5.40am, I think I'm a tad worried about today's scan. I should be fast asleep seeing I've had two nights up socialising till 1am! Friday night was 'the women' (5 friends who meet up every month. We are all committed to our children and our partners surviving our flawed but gallant attempts at these early years of motherhood. We're also committed to good, deep conversation, food, wine and lots of laughs - hence the 1am finish!) Anyway, within a few minutes, I'm in tears. Didn't see it coming at all, but I guess it doesnt take much to lift the lid on a fairly stressful point in this old saga. I think I was great while there was a specific job to do. Chemo was my day job. Finish that and now its all about waiting to see 'what next?'

I'll be fine as soon as I've got a game plan. Saw Gene, our precious friend and GP, last night and we had good chats about what happens to patients when their Consultants say 'that's all for now Im refering you back to your GP'. In my case we're both under no illusion that Barts will continue to keep a close eye on me and that further treatment even might be on the cards. Nevertheless, at some point they're going to say, go home and get on with your 'living with cancer' phase.

Hummm...

The miracle of the chemo (and the prayer and the misletoe and the love!) is that Chris and I can now ask the question - what do we really want to do with this year? There's a subtle difference between that and the question 'if this was the last year of your life, what...?' Subtle and difficult to explain but one has me speaking loving mother messages into a video camera for the kids to view on their birthdays and the other has me thinking about when and how to return to work and when to go to Mexico again and how many times can I visit Sue in Amsterdam etc etc etc.
I guess I'm feeling that imagining beyond a year until Ive made it through this one is too presumptuous. Imagining there might not be another one beyond this one (at this point) is just too much.

6.45am and Kirin is asking for a bottle. Onto mopre practical things.

Better blog off. Promise I'll keep you all up to date - thanks for your prayers and thoughts they certainly help!