Facing the future with no obvious next move

I sat in the CT Scanning Department at Barts last week reading a very old magazine. '10 easy ways to lose weight'... I'm desperate to write that article: 'Get Skinny Get Cancer'. Life has such irony, when I think of my endless dieting through my adolesence and twenties. (The longest lasting and most successful one I remember was the three pieces of fruit for lunch, every day for a whole term during my sixth form!) Well women - bring on those plump thighs, belly over-hangs and huge bums! Health is what we want - not hankering after a different 'us'.

Whilst the diarrhoea raged on and I tried my best to enjoy the peace and quiet of my side room, swallowing food, any food and then drink too, became increasingly difficult. There is something particularly hard about physically rejecting something that emotionally you know is your only path to recovery. My particular bug ('Chlostridium difficile') brings with it vomiting but I sort of knew my trouble was mechanical. Things were getting stuck, which could mean only one thing, the tumour in my tummy was obstructing my oesophogus. I had some investigations while I was in and on Friday (day I left) we got the full picture.

From my last (very encouraging) scan result to this one, they can see considerable regrowth. So much so, that Sarah my Consultant isn't willing for me to restart the next three months of gruelling treatment for, what they now know, has little to offer in terms of long term benefit. They clearly don't have an obvious third card up their sleeves. They want Chris and I to go down to the Royal Marsden to talk to the guys in the Research Unit about whether there's anything very exciting for me. I'm pretty wise to what it might mean to be in a clinical trial, but if it's a positive next move I'm up for a look. Sarah's lot at Barts will take me back and offer me something if The Marsden draws a blank, but noone's pretending that's ever so hopeful.

So on my return there are a few things I need to do. Firstly enjoy Asha and Kirin! There is something so amazing about being a mum - you disappear for nearly three weeks, you do nothing to ensure their comfort or happiness in that time, but you walk through the door and suddenly you are top of the pecking order again, you are 'MUMMY!'

Clearly I need to put some weight on. One day next week I'll got into the the Homerton for the insertion of a 'stent'. This is basically a little flexible plastic tube that will hopefully help my food get past the obstruction. I also need to re-train my horribly wasted muscles. It's incredible how quickly a bed based existence can render you completely weak physically.

So that's all the information but what about the emotional stuff. Well, prior to now I had reacted badly to any suggestion of those liquid meal drinks, but last week I was embracing them like they were my best friend. It's amazing how frightened you can get when you know you can't really eat anything. In the same way, sometimes you just need a bit of time to get you to the next stage in the battle. Our period of enforced separation and poorliness had been enormously significant for Chris and I. Once after 10 whole days we were allowed to see each other, we had such good chats in those precious slow hospital days. On Friday night once home, Chris asked me 'are you a bit low?' I said yes. He said your dad looks really sad too - I didn't want to say 'that's how he normally looks' - because this time the reality was true. We sat later, all around the double bed upstairs with our Chinese take-out and had a chat and a pray. I sensed that today sadness was allowed but with the dawn would come renewed vigour. And I wasn't wrong.

Thanks for reading and your continued support and love.