Saturday 27^th June

I made it. Well, all three of us did. Our time for the Race for Life was 42 mins. Now that really isn’t so bad considering one had a hangover, one had a bad back and one carried her own boob all the way around the course. Between us we raised well over a thousand pounds. A huge thank you to all that donated – and those that didn’t …… there is always next year.

I fell asleep as soon as I got home and slept four hours, with my shiny medal around my neck (I’m thinking Ebay) and my family size bag of chip sticks to celebrate. I really know how to live.

This week the rads tiredness has really hit me with a hammer. I don’t know if it was adrenalin keeping me going and sheer bloody mindedness throughout the rads, but wow, am I knackered.  It’s not the same as feeling tired at the end of a long day, it’s a bone weary must get in bed now and have no choice type of thing.

I am really looking forward to the day when I wake up and do what I want to do that day, how I would like to do it.  The back and forth to hospital for blah blah might have come to a sudden end, but it doesn’t stop here. Even I am not that naive. But I am allowed to look forward to things now. Like my house not looking like it has had squatters, enjoying activities with friends and loved ones, riding and maybe even going to the Lakes this year.

I am adjusting to a new way of normal. But right now I am too knackered to explain just what that means.

I’m done. *PING*! I’m all cooked.

It was a strange feeling driving in and knowing I wasn’t coming back. It all becomes a routine that you adjust to quickly. The familiar faces from the car park attendant to the patients to the radio staff, to the not so bad coffee from the vending machine.

The last five sessions were boosts to the tumour bed. Obviously the idea is to kill off any remaining cancer cells, good cells are also killed off. Your body repairing these is what makes you so tired. I am rather pleased with myself that I was able to drive myself throughout and work in the afternoons.

Working actually helped me. I am not being a martyr.
When you are sat in an Oncology unit – it’s a reminder that you are sick. Compared to some other patients waiting for their daily dose, I have a common cold. Physically it’s easy. Emotionally it’s hard. And that’s from a tough old boot, like me. Back to work, I’m just Claire. It’s been like living two lives, although they do collide sometimes.

I’ve reached and passed the half way mark  with being microwaved. Woo Hoo! Thirteen down and seven to go.  I am tired but I am managing to get some extra sleep when I get home from work. I am really pleased I am still able to drive myself there too.  The car’s air con is a life saver with the hot flushes.

The whole of my left side is turning a lovely shade of red. For some naive reason, I thought just my frankinboob would get cooked. But I am resembling a Picasso right now, with perfectly straight lines of red against white.

It’s a drag getting there and parked and waiting and being zapped (although rads staff are so lovely) and then back to the car and driving back.  But it’s not forever am I am grateful to be getting the treatment – just in case I don’t sound it. Jimmy’s has the tallest, narrowest  multi-storey ever. The most painful part of rads is getting out the car park with the ‘push pull’ parade in front of you. If ever a car park was dying out for a dual carriageway, this is it.

All this driving, lying on the bed – gives you time to think.  And I can conclude that I have a confession. I really innocently thought that having cancer would not change my life.  When I said that, I meant it. It was not arrogance. It was said out of innocence.

Doh!