As a family, we all went to Beechwood today. There were a few tears, not as many as I thought there would be actually, and we got some things sorted out. All in all it was a good thing I think. The kids need clearer signals on my mood changes, which have been quite frequent of late, and I need to know that I can trust them to do the basics, and then look around to see if they can do anything else.
I think the main problem we've got as a family at the moment is that I'm not really ill as such. If I hadn't had my Laparoscopy last week, I'd probably be back at work now, albeit in a reduced capacity. I don't look ill, in fact, with the weight I've put on recently, I look pretty healthy. I'm not limping or lost the use of any of my limbs, I'm not slurring my words or lay on the sofa slobbering, so outwardly, I'm fine.
It's all mental really at the moment, and it's weird the way it creeps up on you. One second you're sat watching TV, reading, texting, whatever, the next you're thinking of your own mortality, wondering what is going to happen when the chemo drugs hit? What will I be able to eat when I've got no stomach? Will I be able to drink beer again? Can I go for a long bike ride without stopping for a pub lunch or snack to keep me going? and so on.
And in the meantime, life goes on as normal as we can make it. Which is another part of the problem when trying to deal with this cancer. Life is not "normal" anymore. You have to acknowledge it. Burying your head in the sand and trying to pretend it doesn't exist is pointless.
Stand up, face the fucker, say hello then beat the shit out of it with the help and support of everyone you can muster around you.
That's my plan. Hope you can all stay with me till I've beaten this shit.
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