23rd August '08

There are two things that having cancer has taught me;
(1) you soon find out who your friends are, and
(2) cancer has no respect for age or colour or money.

Since I last wrote to you all, another friend has been diagnosed with breast cancer, and a former collegue has died from this dreadful disease. Mostly, it's easy to stay strong & positive, but when you hear news like this, it makes you take stock of your own position in life, and be thankful for what you do have. My firnds have been great support to me, providing a shoulder to cry on & cake to devour, which always helps! Family have been amazing with helping with the children, and jobs around the house, giving me time to rest when I need too. For these people I'll be eternally blessed - you know who you are guys!

So were shall I start ... ah, yes! Holidays, I thoroughly recommend them! After three months of chemo & extensive surgery I was very ready for our holiday in the New Forest, and amazingly we managed to secure the only week of English summer so far. We stayed in converted farm accommodation with friends, and managed to meet with other friends and family whilst there, which was a lovely treat. Lazy days spent on the beach or having fun in the forest were just the tonic I think we all needed. Both Morgan & Freya enjoyed the company of the other children, and Russell & I managed to steal a few hours away together too. If anyone's interested Burgate Manor Farm (http://www.newforestcottages.com/) is great for family holidays.

Back home, and it was straight back into the usual routine of hospital visits. Monday saw a return visit to the radiotherapy department for my planning appointment. Thankfully this time, everything was stable enough for them to complete it, and I was duely tattoed with marks so they knew exactly where to apply the beam during my treatment. I'd often looked at women with pretty & discrete tattoes, and thought they looked great, but never thought I'd be getting one free on the NHS!

A week of parties and celebrations followed with Morgan's first birthday. Like the Queen, he managed to have a few "birthdays" and as I had treatment booked for the real day, we celebrated the day before, with Freya happily assisting him with the unwrapping of presents. The morning of his birthday saw Morgan off to his first day at nursery, and later in the day we were summoned to collect a little boy with a high temperature. Unfortunately, by the evening, when it peaked at almost 41 degrees, Morgan got a rather unusual birthday surprise, a ride in a nice shiny ambulance to A&E! Thankfully, he was diagnosed with nothing worse than a nasty throat infection, and we were soon dispatched home with penicillin. As Sunday, the day of his birthday party arrived, he wasn't much brighter, and by mid-morning he was covered in bright red spots ... cue a mad rush back to the out-of-hours GP for a change of anti-biotics, before dispatching Grannie to collect all the party food from Waitrose. The rest of the day went off without event, and again the weather held for us, and we enjoyed the sunshine. By Tuesday morning, my little boy was back to normal, and I went off for the first of twenty sessions of radiotherapy.

Radiotherapy in itself, shouldn't be too bad, or so they tell me, what they don't warn me about is the endless waiting around!

I have been lucky enough to have been "given" hospital transport to all of my Northampton appointments, and have had the pleasureable company of George as my driver for the past few months. Now George really is a character, a retired ambulance paramedic, and now volunteer driver for 18 years, he certainly doesn't look his 72 years. Each morning he collects and then returns me, along with the rest of my radiotherapy crew. There's Vodka Lil (aka Grace), a lovely quietly spoken Polish lady, Slack Alive (aka Millie), a crazy afro-Carribean lady with a great laugh, and me ... the Wicked Witch of Westcroft! I'm not sure that all of George's charges get nicknames, but it's certainly kept the three of us laughing.

The radiotharapy is beginning to take it's toll and make me tired, some I'm sure is due to being bombarded my high energy x-rays, although my treatment only actually lasts for about 50 seconds, but much is due to the accumilation of all that's happened over the last six months.

I shall be glad when 9th September dawns and I will have my final radiotherapy treatment, the Herceptin will continue until next spring, and the Tamoxifen for five years, and that is when the real battle will begin!