4 July: Questions

Like me, my daughter is busy processing everything that has been thrown at us.

I tell her that, if I have chemo, my hair will fall out.  I am worried that this will upset her but instead in turns into a game in which we dream up weird and wonderful wigs for me to wear.  She is quite excited at the idea of finding a wig shop and helping me choose new hair.

Then she remembers the son of friends of ours who had chemo to treat a brain tumour.

"Will you have to be in bed all the time like him?" she wonders.  No, I tell her emphatically.  Breast cancer is not like a brain tumour.  

"Why do you have to be sick?"

"I don't know.  It sucks."

"And in the summer holidays!"

She is not pleased to discover that I will have to stay in the hospital for several days for the operation.

"How will I get to sleep without you?" she demands.  But she likes the idea of coming to visit me and bringing me presents.  Grapes, I tell her, is the traditional gift but I would rather have chocolate.  So she decides to smuggle in chocolate hidden beneath a bunch of grapes.  

Then a terrible thought occurs to her.  "What if you need the toilet in the middle of the operation?"

I tell her that won't happen because they will put me to sleep.  She raises an eyebrow and informs me that I might wet myself in my sleep.

"How embarrassing!" she chuckles.  Before I can answer she reaches up an strokes my hair.

"I think you need a wig exactly like your hair looks now," she says and gives me a cuddle.