It's a glorious day.
The daily, cold rain that drenched me on every visit to the hospital
last week has vanished like a dream. All
day, I've been in and out of the sunshine in the garden, playing with the kids
and generally lazing. I'd looked forward
to having lots of these days over the summer but now I'm just grateful to have
one.
One sunny day with no tests hanging over me, no grabbing the
phone to see if it's the hospital calling, with my body still whole and seemingly well
before surgery and not a single drug yet poisoning my system.
How ironic that right now, when I am sick with a deadly
disease, I feel so well and so healthy. By
this time next week, I will have had the mastectomy. At that point, I might be cured and yet I probably have months ahead when
this kind of health and energy will seem a distant memory. The Cancer will never have made me sick, it's
the treatment that will steal my wellbeing.
I'm at the top of a roller coaster ride, the moment when the
plunge ahead is horribly visible but the car pauses, just for a second, and
everything is unbearably peaceful. I'm
high above the world and it's sunny up here.
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