I didn’t expect the numbness and exhaustion. I expected relief. Joy even.
My numb reaction to the good news has confused me and upset me. Why did I still feel drained and breathless?
Finally, I feel like I’m coming up for air.
I have spent so long keeping it together, while the news got worse with each consultation and scan. I was prepared for it to get worse. And when the news was good, more than good, I just moved on to worry about the next thing. Things to be exact. Cancer was a big one, so I found a lot of worries to fill the void.
Some of you have remarked how strong and together I am. I don’t feel strong or try to sound strong. I am scared and I am stressed.
And that’s ok. It’s ok not to be ok.
This is a marathon, not a sprint, as they say. I have time now. Probably a little over four weeks. Monday 1 August is pencilled in as my surgery date, to be confirmed.
What will I do with all this time?
This surgery and recovery is still a big deal. Much less than might have been. But still, why set myself up to hit the wall beforehand?
I’m going to make the best of this extra time.
I’m going to give it my best shot to get through this nausea and get back to eating well.
I’m going to give it my best shot to stop sweating the small stuff and celebrate the small things. (Or indeed the big things.)
And I’m going to give it my best shot to get more sleep, more fresh air, and more sunshine.
Now that doesn’t sound so bad, does it?
I can do this, you know. Actually, you probably do know. I just hadn’t realised until now but I can, I really can.