Someone turned the lights on again!

It's me back again! I don't just mean you've got me blogging again, after a guest performance by the 'man behind the scenes'. No I mean it's ME - I feel like I just got ME back again!

I saw registrar Peter yesterday (the new Justin, working under Sarah my consultant) and tried to tell him both, how bad I had felt last week and now, how well I felt in comparison. I feel more like the Ali before France and Greeenbelt and Bruges, the Ali of earlier this summer.

I asked him whether I could dare to believe this was already the effect of the first chemo treatment, and he said (in that wonderful cautious medical way) - well what we know about your cancer is that it is chemo-sensitive from before so yes, I think that's what we can assume is happening here.

Well, praise the flippin' Lord is what I say!!

The results from the bone scan on Monday is that it's not in my bones, so that's a relief. Interestingly though, the results from the CT Scan I did just before the 1st chemo, showed that my whole liver was a cancer mass. No wonder I was feeling so lousy and no doubt we're doing the right thing by kicking in with the chemo just now.

Monday this week (day 10) was the first day I felt good. Helen an old friend had been willing to accompany me to Barts. The radioactive injection they give you 3hrs before was no problem and then we went off for an extremely long, extremely delicious lunch break at Carluccio's. This posh Italian cafe has become quite significant to me and Chris as it's where we've chewed over several bits of life altering news...

With Helen on that day I just couldn't help reflecting that here I was again facing what should be (by all accounts) a 'hard chapter' of my life, but it just didn't really feel like that. There was too much to feel grateful for, sitting down pain free, chatting to a friend, enjoying the first time in ages something that felt like an appetite. Then to cap it all, we head back to Barts where I get offered that chance to lie down and 'not move' for about 1/2hr. A siesta! How civilised and Italian can you get!?

Tuesday morning I'm out the house by 10am biking through London Fields in the sunshine to meet Jo for a coffee and a celebratory kids-free natter. Jo is one of the many people who are holding things together for Chris and I. Jo and little Oscar have offered us numerous Asha pick up and play slots, sometimes throw in the brother too, plus tea and bathtime if I'm having a particularly hard day. That morning kids were not part of the occasion. Phil (whose 'with Gabi' and staying with us at the moment) had been left playing cars with Kirin who was due to be picked up by Esther and little Ihanie for a day of antics with his new adopted 'older brother'.

For once there was something bigger than mummy being poorly in our household. Asha started at Millfields Community School Nursery on Wednesday! Even I felt butterflies in my tummy when mum turned up last Saturday with those long white socks (with the holes that make a pattern all the way up, that has to be straight - I confess I know where Asha gets that from) and a small navy blue pleated shirt and a top that she stitched the all-important badge onto.

Proud parent moment when she can hardly wait for her dad to leave and and it's Asha that answers both of the first two questions Ashraf (her fab new teacher) asks all the kids during the 'circle time'.

As I think about tomorrow I do find it slightly hard to believe I'm going to have to do all my living in five day chunks just before the next chemo. It certainly makes you want to pack in the important things. Chris and I are going to go to Kandinsky at Tate Modern before the chemo at Barts because time is certainly to be savoured and lived while we can! I asked Chris yesterday whether it was nice having me pulling my weight again (I'd just done bath time and bed on my own as he cooked a sausage stew for 50 because it's the monthly Community Meal tonight) and he said he couldn't help thinking that it all felt a bit too brief.

My hope, going into chemo round two, is that the cancer was making me feel so crap before and that therefore I was less able to cope with the treatment's side effects. I'm daring to hope for these next two weeks, the side effects won't be as bad, or last as long. We'll have to wait and see.

My final reflection is much more sober and is just about how closely our bodies and emotions are linked. What I mean, is how effectively we can totally lose perspective, joy, humour, sensitivity to others needs etc, if and when we are fighting with our own physical frailty. Last week has to go down as the one when I was hardest and most hurtful to my mum and dad since this whole thing kicked off. Two people who are hurting most in all this and who I least want to load more onto. There have been very few moments for any of us where we have genuinely felt this is too, too difficult - but Saturday was one of those moments. Being what we all want to be, being what we believe we can be to each other, and then being crushed by the enormity of our own needs and feelings.

Mum and dad, Sue, Chris I love you. I keep trying to find ways of saying this without it sounding false or forced but I really wouldn't swop places with any of you. All our paths are steep and hard but yours more than mine. I love you and I'm sorry this wretched disease happened and this is what is being asked of all of us.