Keeping life simple

A deep breath. Seems a good place to start. I thought I’d left September and the seemingly endless wobble behind me, but October brought another unsteady path to tread. My last post spoke about feeling brighter, and that was my absolute truth in that moment but unfortunately that renewed sense of self only lasted a few days before the despair returned. The positive persona that people tell me inspires them seemed to have left the building and no matter what I did, I couldn’t scrape it together again. I didn’t even really feel sad, I felt numb. Completely devoid of feeling, all the usual tactics which would help me stand tall again after a slump weren’t working and I couldn’t find my happy.

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Feeling Brighter

I’m pleased to say that I’ve been feeling a lot brighter since my last post. September was hard for lots of reasons, many of which I didn’t go in to at the time but now feel able to explain a little bit more about. It’s important to note them here to remind myself if it happens again, but I also hope it might help others in a similar situation realise they are not alone.

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September Part II

I’ve found September really hard. Too hard to talk or write about, which is why it’s been near on a month since my last post. I have tried to write but haven’t been able to find the words to articulate my feelings or express myself in this constantly changing, swirling world of emotions and treatment and cancer. Six months in and there are times when I’m transported right back to the beginning again. To those confusing, fearful few weeks spent in the bubble of Bristol Children’s Hospital. I look back and wonder how we survived it. How we kept breathing and putting one foot in front of the other, all the while protecting Poppy and Daisy the very best we could.

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It’s after midnight and I should definitely be in bed, but after reading other stories of childhood cancer tonight, I’m compelled to write instead. September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month and there are stories of it everywhere I turn. Stories which make my heart ache. Stories which make my chest tighten. Stories I never thought our family would have anything in common with.

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The cinema, a disco and another 5 nights in hospital…

Posts have been few and far between this month. I haven’t felt able to write anything, through lack of energy from long, draining days and an inability to articulate how I’m really feeling. To some extent, there have been times when I’ve thought about writing something but have hesitated because my thoughts are actually too awful to put into words. I’ve tried to be honest, but the reality is that there is a lot more going on than is presented here. Parts of this story aren’t always only mine to share and other times, when the awful is really awful, I don’t have the energy to capture it.

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A weekend of two halves

Poppy bounced back from her course of steroids last Friday and woke up full of energy, so it was a good opportunity for us all to get out of the house for a wander around the trees at Westonbirt Arboretum. Not quite the calming experience it usually is, as Graham forgot his annual pass and we were greeted by an unforgiving member of the welcome team. I know we slipped up by forgetting the pass, but I’d like to see a little bit of trust involved and a back up plan for when genuine people make mistakes. It was a frosty start, which we managed to shake off without causing a scene. I came very close to mentioning that it was Poppy’s first proper day with her family after spending 3/7 days in the hospital and the rest lying on the sofa crushed by the muscle wasting effects of steroids, but there are some days when we just don’t want to get into the whole thing and it’s better dealt with by a shrug of the shoulders and a roll of the eyes between ourselves.

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Delayed Intensification

So that was Interim Maintenance. A bumpy start with two unplanned hospital admissions smoothed out along the road with two holidays, a weekend away by the seaside, and numerous happy days spent together in the sunshine. We knew this would be our best opportunity to get out and about with the girls, and it’s safe to say we achieved our aim of making the absolute most of Poppy’s wellness. We even made it back for the final day of pre-school before the summer break – a trip to Forest school to make dens and shelters, before returning for a party filled with food, music, bubbles and dancing. Poppy transformed from her dusty forest school outfit into her sparkly party dress, receiving many compliments along the way. Watching on from the sidelines, I was moved to happy tears by Poppy’s dancing during musical statues. The wild abandon with which she closed her eyes, threw her arms in the air and wiggled her hips was such a moment of pure joy, given away by the huge grin on her face. Quite simply, dancing like nobody’s watching. A good friend was there to hug me as the tears fell, and as I said to her, it’s rarely when Poppy is poorly that I cry, but the moments like these when she is doing the things she should be doing at her age. Her dancing took my breath away and will play like a video in my mind for a long time to come.

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Relaxation and a renewed sense of self

Graham and I have just returned from our first night away on our own in almost four years! The last being a heavily pregnant visit to Harptree Court, where I waddled around the grounds and ate my breakfast eggs well-done. This time, Cowley Manor was our location of choice, booked on a last minute whim the night before. We almost didn’t do it, but decided it was our last opportunity to do so for a while and some thinking time on our own would be welcome after our late night heart to hearts of late. The relentless nature of the last few months has been catching up with us and we don’t always have a chance to process everything that is happening to our family. Our days are filled with love and laughter with the girls by our side, and by the time the evening rolls around, we’re often too exhausted to delve deep into our thoughts.

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Fear & Pride

It’s 3.40am and I can’t sleep. So often I fall into bed exhausted and drift off within minutes, only to be wide awake each night at this time. Cancer is undoubtedly on my mind at this hour. My mind turns the same thoughts over and over, and it’s preferable to get up for an hour or two than to lie there with my darkest thoughts. I spoke last week of having nightmares but didn’t go into detail. When I’m afraid, it’s hard to speak the words out loud but often fear is better faced head on and I feel better for having voiced and acknowledged what I’m thinking. My nightmares always follow a similar theme – they’re never about cancer, but a struggle of some other sort. A fire or a drowning situation, in which I’m powerless to save the girls. I always wake mid-nightmare (usually screaming and gasping for breath), so never know the outcome of the scenario, but it doesn’t take a specialist in dreams to recognise the link between these nightmares, cancer and the lack of control/ability to rescue my loved ones. Another way for my mind to process the trauma; things inevitably always seem better in the morning.

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