The chemo ward is one of the least inspiring places to write but these days I take my spaces where I find them. We're on that hard transition leg of this familiar-unfamiliar journey.
Today I've sat and watched C's body protest. Seen the child parts of her say 'No'. Seen the adult parts try to coax her body to take the drugs neither of them really wants. This is the bit where we slip off in our separate directions. Together alone. I won't know where her body goes. The aches. Pain. Nausea. Fatigue. The toxic metal-tasting mouth that can only taste things through memory or liberal amounts of tabasco. And she won't know the time she's missed, quiet hours whilst she sleeps. Shared and unshared moments. Lonely days together. Hiding from the sun. Hiding from the germs. Trying to get over the hospital day that brings us there. Maybe these hard hospital days are the best preparation for the quiet days ahead. I'll be glad to see the back of the hospital. If we've got a few quiet days at home now that will be an improvement from today.
Yesterday we woke up in a gorgeous hotel after a couple of days of enjoying food and walks and the fun bit before the change. Today her body is being pumped full of drugs and has already gone down through the gears - sleeping off the last few litres as the machine gently rattles and pumps the chemotherapy in.
The contrasts come quickly on this ride so you had better enjoy those good bits whilst they're there.
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