I'm just beginning to realise that a cancer diagnosis
changes everything. Mostly, this sucks.
For example, my brother in law is emigrating from London to
the US with his pregnant wife and my two little nieces. The new baby's due in October but, with chemo
looming, we can't realistically plan to visit until the new year. Only it turns out that I won't be covered on
travel insurance for 12 months after
the end of my treatments because I now have a 'pre-existing condition'. Thanks Cancer, now I won't be able to meet my
newest niece until she is a busy toddler.
A cancer diagnosis doesn't just corrode and destroy,
however. It can also bind and
strengthen. Old friends have been
corresponding again for the first time in ages, new friendships have become closer,
people have shown unexpected kindnesses.
When I got back from hospital, a friend of a friend arrived at the
door. She's a lovely lady, but not
someone I've ever had the chance to get to know very well. And yet she had still taken the time between
summer trips to deliver a meal to our door.
Another friend delivered food to the hospital, the house is abloom with
flowers and the post has brought cards, a beautiful stone decorated with the
word Courage and a four-leafed
clover.
Then this morning, exactly one week after the mastectomy, my
son came and sat on my left side and snuggled in. With just the slightest wince, I managed to put
my arm round him for a cuddle and I don't think he even noticed the new lack of
cushioning. Ha! Cancer might be seeping into every corner of
my life but some things survive unchanged.
No comments:
Post a Comment