Written @ 7:30 am December 24, 2013
I lie here quietly trying not to disrupt my husband as he sleeps beside me. It is Christmas Eve day and the house remains quiet. The day will be filled with anticipation, excitement and preparation for Christmas tomorrow.
It doesn’t feel truly like Christmas to me yet however. Hoping the day will bring that magical feeling of contentment and joy that I equate with holiday spirit.
My energy is coming back as is my hair. I have fuzz growing all over my bald head. I am starting to feel a little like the old me. In fact I slip back into my old ways of wanting to conquer the world in a day and then fatigue snaps me back into place. I then succumb to being still and slowing down.
My brain is still quite foggy, I have to really concentrate and focus. The kids are all too familiar with my forgetfulness and my youngest says, ‘oh mommy it’s that chemo brain again isn’t it?’ Amazing how we have all just got used to my bald presence, my ever-changing moods, from weepy to impatience to very raw and messy moments.
I thank my family for loving me and supporting me. My 13 year old tells me I am cute when I look my worst. I love her for that.
I met with my oncologist this week and I have started Tamoxafin, which I will be on until I am 48. I will see her in 3 months and then 6 months after that. I am to assume I am cancer free. I am to carry on living healing, eating, and exercising and to reach out to her if anything is out of the ordinary or persists beyond the norm. No more needles.
It would be great to slap a big red bow around everything for Christmas and forget the last 6 months but that would be impossible. I think cancer will always be with me it has changed me. I never ever want it back in my body. I want to enjoy decades of Christmas mornings with my family and all of them cancer free. I hope Santa brings me peace of mind, as that is the last part of healing process, and I suspect it may take some time.