on the mend

Yesterday I felt the first stirrings of restlessness. It was a restlessness that said, "I quite fancy writing something, or having a nice hack!" That was when it struck me - I'm finally on the mend. Phew.

I can't tell you what a crap 6 weeks I've had. Vomiting everyday, pain everywhere, relentless nausea. And now, burns from the RT, but after a week of living on Angel Delight, mashed potato, and mashed up egg with butter, it seems to be healing up. I've been steadily improving every day since Sunday, and last Monday feels like six weeks ago.

I finished the translation work too! My friend is pleased with the work, and I was just grateful to have something to think about other than death. Really - my head has not been in a good place recently. Anyway, I got think about Scarlatti and Bartok for a while instead, and was able to forget the whole prognosis question too.

But of course it never goes away fully. It sits there at the back of your mind - like someone on death row waiting for a reprieve that may never come. Each day becomes precious, and each hour wasted with your head down the loo is a disaster. No one knows how long they've got left, but having an illness that threatens your life makes that all the more obvious.

So you have to try to ignore it and replace every negative thought with one that reinforces the belief that I'll live. For long long time to come. See my kids grow up. Grow old. I live each day with hope and am trying to turn it into a belief so concrete that the universe has no option other than to match reality to my thinking. With an inoperable tumor, there's no other option really, is there?!

That's enough from me this evening... off to cuddle up to Bramble and watch a bit of late night telly!