I realised Sunday that I’m sad and somehow it made me feel better. I know, I know, Elliott tells me I’m crazy and that’s one reason why he loves me. But I’ve never known a sadness like this before.

It’s a pit, deep inside me where everything is unfair. How is it fair for Evie to have a mum, that for the majority of her short life has been sick and going through treatment for breast cancer? It rocks me to my core at how horribly unfair it is. I can’t fathom it. I know I have every right to feel sorry for myself…and when I get done feeling sad for myself I always pick myself back up again and carry on, which is what’s important. But I sit here, and I just can’t accept what I’m going through. Why should I? Could you? When I get changed I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and remember that I’ve had a breast cut off. It seems like so far away now. I don’t feel like I have. I have no pain whatsoever from surgery. No limit of movement, no issues. I went to pilates on Monday and did all the same things everyone else did, it’s so easy to forget what’s just happened. But eventually I’m shocked back into reality.

Chemo has a funny way of numbing parts of you, making you sort of forget about things that don’t matter so much. You can sit still, staring off into space, not thinking about anything at all and then realise you’ve been doing that for thirty minutes. It’s very strange…but I remember feeling this way before. So yesterday I went back through my original posts from when I started chemo the first time and in some ways it’s been very helpful. I am not suffering nearly so much as I did with my other chemo drugs. Cancer Day 63 / Chemo Session 1/7: Zombie

And I feel fairly similar to what I wrote about the first time. But it also scares me. The chemo I did the first time was horrible, really potent stuff, and it didn’t eradicate my cancer. Now this new stuff is more gentle on me (from a side effect perspective), but will it be strong enough to make it so I don’t have to go through this nightmare yet again? I keep telling myself that they work in different ways, that I’ve not hit my my low yet. How funny is it to want to go low so you at least know it’s working?

When I washed my hair yesterday a bit came out, normally, as when anyone washes their hair. And I had forgotten that it could all come out again. I remembered sitting on the floor of the shower crying when my hair came out the first time. My dark wig is in storage, so we’re going to make sure to find it this weekend so I’m better prepared. How could I forget?

But in spite of all of the above, I really am okay. I’ve been on my own this week with Evie and she’s been no trouble. I get her to preschool, I pick her up, make her dinner, bath and bed. I’m trying to be as happy as I can around her, to have joy in each moment.

I felt really achy this morning, like a bad cold coming on, and a bit nauseous, so I took some of my meds to help and it all eased off.

Tomorrow I have the short infusion of Gemcitabine and then I kick back for two weeks and let the crap destroy my fast dividing DNA. Then that’s cycle 1 complete. Out of only 4. Then we are nearly halfway done already. That’s something….