“I’m worried about you,” she said.
What can I say. We’d been together for a few hours after Teeball finished – heading to the shops for a bit – but when we came home I felt pretty tired and laid down for two hours! My body is aching. My hips and knees hurt and I’ve got this light piercing kind of pain that feelsslike is spiking straight through my tumour. I don’t know if that’s real or imagined – it only started after Abs asked me that heartbreaking question.
I’m worried about her and will have to seriously find a way to help her cope. We talk about things and I want her to be able to ask me anything. It is tearing me apart when she asks me seemingly simple questions like that – because there’s really no simple answer.
I tell her I’m ok. After the first treatment there’s always going to be some time to adjust for my body. But how can I possibly explain this to a nine-year-old. I have to be honest with her but I don’t want to scare her.
She’s so amazing & worried about me – that’s what makes this all so much harder.
I can deal with the illness and the intrusive and completely unenjoyable treatment that goes with it – but putting the kids through this all is the hardest part!
My life changed so dramatically when I was 8 after dad’s car accident and the last thing I ever wanted was to burden my kids with any kind of trauma at that age.
Now I have done exactly that — not deliberately of course. My brain knows that but my heart doesn’t!
Dad’s accident and its aftermath wasn’t deliberate either – but it changed my life forever and still takes it toll on me.
He has dementia and can barely look after himself. He’s still in his own home but he has carers and I do his food shopping on-line and have it delivered. I don’t think he knows that’s how his fridge and cupboards are getting filled each week and it doesn’t really matter that he doesn’t know. All that matters is that he’s got supplies – including mint chocolate biscuits each week and a seemingly oversupply of toilet paper and lemonade!