So with only one cycle of chemotherapy to go, the end is drawing near and the light at the end of the tunnel seems to be getting brighter, but still flickering on and off. I only have four more infusions left; two of which are only half an hour, but two of which are six hours and fifteen days of steroids. So, in hope that everything goes to plan, this time next month i will be chemo-free and hopefully returning to a normal face/body shape. In saying that, I then have three weeks of nothing before three weeks of the dreaded radiotherapy which I've only heard bad things about. I aim to be done by mid-October. So when I think 'YUUS ONLY ONE MORE CYCLE. I'M NEARLY FREEE' ..i forget that, really, i still have two and a half months..but that's nothing, i still gots me my whole life ahead.
Of course my summer hasn't exactly panned out how i'd imagined, the past five months all sort of merge in together with no school, treatment, being home, mainly being alone, but I shouldn't complain because my life will be back to normal in no time. But it's really made me realise that time is a funny thing. In ways, it feels like a zillion years ago that i was at the doctors every other day, undiagnosed, being hated on by my GP because he was clueless as to why my feet were itchy. Then that first day of scans and my first day at sick kids after being told I have 'Lymphoma' which was a word I had never heard and had to write down to remember. And in other ways, it's zoomed by. Being told I'd have to endure six months of very solid treatment, imagining that I would not see nor speak to anyone for the entire time, being violently sick and weak- it felt like it would last forever. And here I am, with one cycle to go, having had as normal a life as I possibly could have for the past five months, with the end in sight.
I was in hospital for a blood test yesterday- just to check all was okay after the cycle, and one of my nurses introduced me to a newly diagnosed girl who was the same age as me, but with a different cancer and different treatment regime. She was lovely, although you could tell she was worried and had no idea what was going to happen to her, so I played it cool and told her it's not as bad as she thinks. Although she stared at my head for the entire time, obviously like 'HELL NO I DON'T WANNA LOSE MY HAIR AND LOOK LIKE A LESBIAN' but unfortunately, it's inevitable for us cancer gals. I can remember being first admitted, I was never introduced to any other patients so I never had the reassurance I hope I gave this girl, I just sort of had to find out things for myself and talk to the nurses, who obviously aren't as helpful as patients as they just witness what happens, and don't know whats it's really like to lose your hair, have your face and body blow up like a balloon in the space of a week and develop scars all over your body which are mistaken for tattoos. (yes, James Lennon, this is aimed at you) But in case some of you haven't gathered, MY HAIR IS COMING BACK, and i'm rocking the very lesbian-esque/boy look-which really, really doesn't work on me, but I'm hoping to have a reasonable lid my christmas, and of course I shall keep you all updated in that department. My arms and legs are back to normal, so I've snapped out of being in denial and I've had to shave them. Obviously, I lack normality in my life, but that part could've stayed away.
i love james armour as well <3