Over a Cup of Green Tea.

Dear All,

It is the eve of the anniversary of my diagnosis, and I know that I will need and want to write tomorrow - to share, to reflect, and to feel the power of connection that has carried me so far. But in the meantime, as I sip my green tea in a moment of rest, I thought I'd give some updates, as I know that many of you have been asking how the past week has been.

I had my five scheduled sessions of radiotherapy - yet another notch in my belt of experiences. I started each day with an early morning trip to the hospital, where I would be asked to strip down to my waist, lie on my back on a table, and be still as they marked my chest with pointers to guide the rays. Then they would take a series of lead plates and lie them on the outskirts of the area to be radiated, my "protective armour" shielding me from treatment to unnecessary regions. The plates were ice cold, and yet I had to lie very still so as not to throw anything off kilter... The radiotherapy machine would then be carefully lowered to press down hard on my chest, pinning me to the table. And then I would be left there, for 5 minutes or so, alone in the room, and no sound but the quiet beeping of the machine doing its work, and the loud beating of my heart trying to take all of this in. In those five minutes, I visualised, I wished, I dreamed, I hoped. I wavered back and forth from being in the moment, to being somewhere else - healthy, calm, whole. And then the session would be over, I would get dressed, and my "normal" day would officially begin. Surreal. The pain in my sternum dissipated very quickly, and by the end of session five, it was all but gone. My chest looks sunburned, and I still feel little twinges sometimes in that area, but as Dr. Plowman shared, it is hard to differentiate between healing bone and diseased bone and the side effects of radiation. Again, it is the unknown, the "limbo" that is so hard for me. I have battled tears and fear this week, in their usual waves. But at least I am more physically comfortable, and my body is back on a firmer footing to recovery than it was a week ago. I am just very fatigued, a tiredness that is exacerbated by the fact that my blood count is in its characteristic mid-cycle low which leaves me feeling generally depleted.

I am now scheduled for my next chemo on Wednesday December 30th, when I will stay overnight at the hospital, and be discharged New Year's Eve. I see it as a final blast to the f&*#er before I wrap up 2009. And then, it is literally a new year.

With last-minute work commitments and treatment appointments, I have not had time to think about or prepare for Christmas. I hope to spend the next few days getting into the spirit of things. Christmas Eve will be spent at my home, where my parents and Chiara and Anthony will join Julian, James and I. Christmas Day will be spent at Julian's aunt and uncle's home, together with many of the Murdochs, and the Priorelli + Anthony crowd, having Xmas a-la-British. Boxing Day (26th) will be spent at Chiara and Anthony's new home in Wimbledon, having Xmas a-la-American. So, three days of festivity with family, which will be lovely.

We had snow here in London on Wednesday, and then again today. Big snow flakes which were bizarre to see in the city and which lasted only briefly. I smiled as the news warned of "emergency measures" having to be taken, of tons of sand and salt being distributed... I still have some Bostonian in me, and really.... the fuss was ludicrous! But I have also learned that everything is relative, and so I have come to appreciate how atypical this all is when all you expect is rain, rain, rain.

Speak to you all tomorrow, and hope that as this working week draws to a close, you are all getting ready for a happy holiday season around the corner.

Hugs to all.