Sunday, June 27, 2010
So we start again.
All the will in the world all the crossed fingers and legs and anything else that can be crossed didn't stop the consultation going the wrong way.
I was hoping for bird flu or even man flu. What we got was a 99.999999 percent probability of the lymphoma being back. The blood test which I had a week ago showed enough abnormalities to lend weight to the argument of it being back. Unfortunately with the other symptoms including the fluid on or around one of my lungs kinds of seals the deal.
The emotional result of this is the ar*e has fallen out of our world again. We told the girls which in all honesty was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. We told them when we were told I was in remission that it had gone to sleep so telling them it's woken up should be easy. But their faces contorted with pain and worry and tears and anger and pure pure emotion was too much and it was confirmation, if needed, that we were back in the fight.
Telling people is rubbish, they answer their phones and are happy to hear your voice and then you give them the news. Their voices sink and you can hear them thinking of what to say, of which there is very little they can say. Then you leave that person holding that piece of news and you go and give the news to someone else, in a way it's the old 'a problem shared' but it's not really it's just cr*p.
One of the hardest was a skype call to New Zealand to tell Charlie and Veronica that we won't be at their wedding. I knew they'd understand but I wanted to be at their wedding we'd booked the flights and everything, even bought a Swedish phrase book as the wedding will be in Veronica's homeland, complicated yes but worth doing for people you love.
I phoned Jase (brother in law) as he can sometimes be a mushroom in the chain of information passing (kept in the dark and fed poo). His response was like many others, sorrow that it had returned and a wish that I get through this. We agreed to talk more that evening. What I didn't realise was that he and Anita pretty much dropped everything and came up to give us a hug.
I'm so lucky, it sounds very backwards and maybe I am but I'm so lucky to have so many people wishing us well and wanting to help and do stuff and praying for us and worrying for us. Perhaps I would never have realised all this without the journey that is cancer but I realise it now and it feels brilliant to have this amazing group of people that we can ring or see.
The person that I feel for the most is Wend, once again she has the prospect of looking after the girls and maybe me and a dog now. She has the worries of a wife looking at the person she loves going through treatment. And there's not a f*cking thing I can do about it. Sorry about the language but it's not fair, she worked so hard last year keeping everything together and kicking me when I needed it or loving me or just holding or stroking my hairless head. She deserves a medal for the way that she kept the girls lives as normal as she did, she deserves another one encrusted with diamonds for putting up with me. She doesn't deserve another round of uncertainty and worry. It's just not fair on her, she's so amazing I don't want her suffering because of me. Wendy I love you.