Friday, November 20, 2009
A semi-pants weekend (not big sweaty pants just pants that don't feel right)
Well it wasn't the best, there was nothing particularly wrong with it just that my head was a shed.
Whether it was because the new treatment would start on Monday and I'm not a big fan of change or whether it was my feelings about the whole cancer situation I couldn't put my finger on it but I was a bear with a sore head most of Saturday.
Wendy is incredible as I may have pointed out a couple of times before. But on a rainy Saturday when Georgia and I are couped up in the house we get twitchy and cabin fever and start being at each other. One will say something or prod or poke at the other and then we have an argument and fall out about it. I hold my hands up and say I do this and it's not a parenting trait I'm proud of and it's something that I try not to do but Saturday was one of those days and Wendy knew it.
"Go on get your bikes out and go for a ride, I'll do some baking with Carys! We didn't need telling twice, I got the bikes out of the cellar and George went and got changed. We swapped a tyre, Georgia's first time so we went through the whole process and she did the majority, only the bits requiring brute force and ignorance did she leave for me. So we were mucky before we left, and boy were we mucky when we returned. George had a couple of offs but got back up and smeared the mud off herself onto the grass. Grinning like fools we rode for a mile or so through puddles and streams and along roads. Giggling to ourselves watching other like minded fools jumping in puddles and having a whale of a time.
Just before we came through the door George asked me if she could rub the mud off her hands on to her face to make it look worse. I said she could, it didn't add much to be honest but it was great watching Wend's face as we squelched through the door. Tea and medals were the order of the day, well hot chocolate and biscuits.
The weather is no longer something I chunter at, it's just something that makes me glad to be alive. Ok so when the rain water is trickling down your back and there is only one place it'll end up, it's not particularly pleasant, but I'm alive to feel it so that's good enough for me.
To see Georgia's face grinning from ear to ear covered in mud and dripping wet through just makes me happy. You know the happiness that sit's inside you like a crackling log fire on a cold winters night. It sits and burns and makes every fibre of your body feel warm and calm. B*gger drugs this is what makes me feel well.
Sunday was a weird day. Mum had invited us and Viv, Dave, Daisy and Lola to their house for lunch. It was to be a birthday lunch for her mum my Granma, which was a lovely idea. Granma lives in a home now and has good days and bad days but today was a great day for her. She was with it and only repeated herself a couple of times, hey I do it and I think I come from a long line of repeaters........so no worries there. She got everyone's name right and although she was a little confused at who belonged to who there were three kids screaming round and Lola who's still a babe in arms.
I'd spent the morning in my cellar, I don't have a shed but a cellar is much warmer! Putting up racking which mum and dad had bought me for my birthday and Christmas. I'd got into the flow and had lost track of time so when Wend called saying I needed to get changed it was a bit of a shock. It also kicked me emotionally, I didn't want to see anyone, I didn't want to talk to anyone. If Wendy had brought me sandwiches I'd have stayed in the cellar all day, except for calls of nature. (note to self: research putting in downstairs loo) So it was a somewhat begrudging Nick that entered the fray that day.
Do you know what? It wasn't as bad as I'd thought it was going to be. Gran, like I say was on top form and the kids were great. Then I went, why I don't know but I felt like I was about to lose it. As there were some people outside I got up and went out, dad passed me something to put in the car which I took without registering and put it in the car. And there I sat with the boot lid open holding a rugby ball tears streaming down my face.
What if radiotherapy doesn't f*cking work? Well, what if it doesn't? round and round these questions went and I had the reason for my mood. Chemo had been a treatment which should have, could have sorted the cancer out and radiotherapy was to be a possible back up plan. Well hello, can I have another back up plan please?
It was dad that found me there, still crying, still holding the rugby ball, still looking for answers. It was dad that accepted my state and stayed with me and talked through it. No answers came but the cloud moved, taking with it some of the darkness. Thanks dad.