Getting Through the Wait.

Dear All,

It is rainy and blustery outside, and I am here with a cup of green tea, searching for distraction. I often come to the blog to reread postings, for they are boosters and comforts all rolled into one and, on a dreary morning such as this, I welcome that.

Yesterday was a particularly tough day - I was very emotional throughout, and needed pep talk after pep talk. Julian came with me to the hospital, and was a constant source of reassurance although, poor guy, he too was understandably stressed by the process. He bears so much on his shoulders, never ceasing to give me an encouraging smile, to squeeze my hand when I start to wobble, to look at me with understanding when I struggle to stay calm. I burst into tears during my cat scan, although some how managed not to move while they took the necessary images. The bone scan was a longer affair, lasting about 45 minutes as I was "photographed" from head to toe. I visualised and visualised and visualised my healthy and healed cells waving up at the cameras, shouting "Take a picture of me! Take a picture of me! I look great and well!!" But it took every ounce of energy for me to hold it together - the whole morning brought me back to the initial diagnostic tests I had done just a few months ago, and to the mixture of fear and hope that I again experienced when I was re-scanned mid chemo cycles in March. And the wait for the results tomorrow... it is torturous and overwhelming. I am focusing, as I have done in the past, on having Dr. Plowman greet me with, "I am pleased to report good news. You're doing very well. We're on track, here's the next step..." Chiara reminds me not to put such weight and pressure on the news I will hear- that no matter what, it will simply dictate the length of my path to recovery, not whether or not I will recover. But it is so hard to keep fear at bay, and so amidst many tears, my loved ones took it in turns to hold me and help me focus on the positive. Because while I do believe I will get through this, I am scared nonetheless about the road ahead, and I am drained by the road so far. There is no less spirit in my fight - there is just recognition that this fight is a huge challenge of body and mind, and it sometimes is just difficult to "breathe".

James is giggling in the living room, my antidote to this dreary day and the best distraction of all. I am headed there... Keep the good thoughts coming for tomorrow, will you?